May 13, 2013 |
I’m always surprised (although it’s obvious that I shouldn’t be) that the storylines I’m most attracted to are those with writers as the protagonist. Whether it’s a book, television show or movie… if there’s a writer involved, it holds a certain magic that I can’t find anywhere else.
John-Boy Walton was my first love. The episode “The Achievement” is still an all-time favorite. Richard Thomas, the actor, later portrayed another writer in one of my guilty pleasure films, Stephen King’s IT.
Jo March of Little Women lives my life. An awkward tomboy, dreaming of something beyond her home, she left… only to return to the family she loves and write about them.
Julie Powell wrote about Julia Child who wrote a cookbook. And not just any cookbook. Mastering the Art of French Cooking is still on my Wishlist. For those of you new to Frankly, My Dear… the movie Julie & Julia inspired me to start blogging.
Eat, Pray, Love is another wonderful story about a writer trying to find herself.
But it’s Under the Tuscan Sun that grabbed my attention this weekend.
Although I’ve had the DVD for several years, it’s been quite a while since I last watched it. For Mother’s Day, I did just that. Dot treated me to a Starbuck’s Apple Pie Frappuccino [Note to Self: Get more of this. Often. It’s the coffee-law!] and I settled into my Writer’s Corner (chair. It’s a chair.) and was instantly romanticized by the story of Katherine. Oh, you thought the movie was about Frances, the writer? It is. But my story is about Frances and Katherine, her new Italian friend.
During her season of finding herself, Frances confides in Katherine. Katherine takes her under her wing and encourages Frances to lose her fear of, well, everything. Katherine enthralled me, and the characters around her, with her zest for life. She drew Frances out of her shell. She commanded attention wherever she went. And she almost always wore hats. The big brimmed, feminine kind of hats that Audrey Hepburn would have adorned. If Katherine were real and you were lost in a crowd, you’d need only to look above the heads for her hat, and you’d be lost no more.
I don’t want to ruin the movie for you if you’ve not yet seen it. So I’ll skip any spoilers. But I must mention the dress. The white dress. It’s not a wedding dress. It’s simple yet elegant. Cinched with a simple yet elegant black belt. And Frances, after consulting with Katherine, wears it confidently.
I saw that dress. I saw a writer, who on a whim moved to Italy, and bought a white dress. I saw confidence and adventure and romance and life and courage…
I want that dress!
Not because I want the characteristics it portrays. But because I am finding myself already full of those characteristics and I can think of no better way to show it than to wear such a dress.
A year ago I wouldn’t have thought to wear a dress. Unemployed and feeling less than accomplished, a leg riddled with eczema patches… a dress most certainly wasn’t in the cards.
Oh, but it’s so much more than just about wearing a dress. It’s about grasping life with both hands and yet letting go. It’s eating the ice cream cones in the hot sun. Drinking wine in the backyard. It’s celebrating the failures and acknowledging the successes that come with every day of just waking up and being alive.
That dress is about being alive.
I. Want. That. Dress.
It is definitely worth saving my pennies for. If I have any extras, I’ll just toss them into the Fountain when I finally get to Italy.
And believe me. I’m getting there.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
You may also enjoy reading:
Mojo Movie Review of the Week: “Eat, Pray, Love”
Mojo Movie Review of the Week: “Julie & Julia”
Building a Better Me: Making (Better) Memories
Where are you, Paul Varjak?
Mojo Movie Review of the Week: “Breakfast at Tiffany’s”
When I Get To New York
If I Could, I Would…
My Personal History of Coffee (and a Keurig Review)
Oct 4, 2012
Unemployed by Day, Super Writer by … every moment.
It’s hard to explain to others what exactly I do for a living. What that question is really asking is, “How do I earn money?” That’s completely different than what I do for a living.
“I’m a Writer” conjures up romantic images of a carefree, vagrant lifestyle. That’s not at all what I do. I don’t just put out words that come to me then sit under a tree drinking wine. I don’t go on great trips or even eat out all that much. I don’t belong to a Writer’s Group where we share our intimate ideas in a secluded room. Writing ~ my writing ~ is not at all what you see on television.
Writing is not the same as Being a Writer. It’s the “being” part: I live to write. I live for words. I look for stories around every corner, in every shadow, on every smiling face.
I don’t just sit under my laptop and randomly bang away until something mediocre appears. Writing is editing, formulating, brainstorming, organizing, evaluating, reviewing, posting, sharing, scribbling, photographing, reading, researching…
I write in my sleep. I dream story ideas. Every bite of food I take, I find words to describe it. I’m helpless in a movie theatre because I also think how I would have written it differently. I no longer purchase products. I evaluate them. And I’m a sucker for mentally correcting others’ grammar and punctuation.
Recently, I prioritized my writing projects as well as redesigned the Blog. Since I’m a creature who craves stability and scheduling, these are both HUGE deals. Changing the Blog look and layout was a small-but-giant step for me. Prioritizing my projects helped me see which ones are closer to being finished, and which ones are still in the not-really-a-workable-idea-yet stage.
I have a schedule and accountability/progress chart. I’ve set realistic goals. I’m an organized dreamer. I keep a pen and notepad in every room of my house, in my car, and in my purse and backpack. I’m always making notes. Nearly every task I do, I do with the thought of being a Writer.
Housecleaning? Product reviews. How To’s. Short stories about struggling housewives.
Girls’ Night Out? Travel reviews. Fashion photography. And in the right setting where others can be seen and overheard, story idea after story idea after story idea.
Chatting with friends. Preparing a meal. Brushing my teeth. Folding laundry.
I work constantly.
I’ve started to say it to myself. I’ve started to announce to those who ask. I’m not a struggling artist looking for recognition. I recognize it in me.
And that’s where it starts.
Say it loud, and say it proud.
I don’t just write.
I am a Writer.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Oct 29, 2011 |
by Molly Jo Realy @MollyJoRealy
Okay, I’m not one to go all in about spirits and things. I believe there are supernatural forces, but as a Christian, and a scaredy-cat, I ignore; nay, resist, such topics.
Most of the time.
Just over two weeks ago, I journaled about the death of my mentor.
We weren’t that close. He was someone I respected as a writer and creator. He encouraged and inspired me to continue in my own writing endeavors. Big words for what boils down to: I like what he said and did, and he saw potential in me.
And then he died.
I don’t know what to do with this void. Do I write about my personal loss? What personal loss? It was a peripheral relationship. So why let others in on my tears? Because he told me to. He told me to write. Every day. No matter what. In joy. In pain. On vacation. Write. Every day.
But for a few days of mourning, I stopped.
I guess that didn’t make him happy. I guess I still have potential. Because in the middle of the night, during a rare thunderstorm no less, I received an email from him. Last night. Two and a half weeks after his death.
I’m not joking.
The interesting thing is, it was the very first email he ever sent me. From years ago. I’d asked his advice as a writer, never thinking he’d respond. But he did. And so our writer’s relationship began. I’d had it saved on hard copy. Saved in my email inbox. And suddenly it pops up on my blackberry like a brand new message.
“Molly Jo… I will give you an answer which is the absolute answer. Write every day and write for at least a couple hours. … What you have to do is make writing a very high priority in your life … Writing is like weightlifting. The more you do it, the stronger you’ll get. … That’s the best advice I can give. If you want to be a writer, you gotta write.”
So. Here I am. Still feeling silly about being affected by the loss of someone who was not yet a dear friend. Still wondering what I could possibly have to write about. Thinking of my unfinished projects.
And in the middle of the night, the heavens opened to wash away my clouds; and he reminded me of what’s important. I write because I am a writer.
True story.
“I write for the same reason I breathe. Because if I didn’t, I would die.” ~Isaac Asimov
