Aghast I Tell You, Aghast!

So I was real busy this past week, hardly had time to write a note to myself. In all the scuttling about I was having a bit of writers block. I mean, I was getting ideas alright, but I wasn’t able to sit right down, right then, and pay attention to them and they seemed to flutter away with indignation. When I did have time to sit down and pay attention, they were off on some exotic vacation. Yes, I jotted notes, but a note does not a blog article make.

Then, it seemed suddenly the ideas were gone. The well was dry. I was experiencing the proverbial writers block. Rather than fret I decided to take two hours off from the world and watch an old movie. Elizabeth Taylor, Paris, The 40’s, sounded just divine.

So I start watching and I realize right away this is a movie about regrets, as the star (Van Johnson) walks around Paris with a wistful look on his face. He’s remembering things lost. Well. OK, so it’s not a comedy or a light hearted romantic romp. Still, in the dark depth of someone else’s misery can’t one find redemption? (Wow- that sounded good didn’t it? I wasn’t really thinking that but hey, who would know, right? I was actually thinking dang, I picked a sad movie, it didn’t say sad on the cover). I decided to watch it anyway.

So I start getting into this movie and I am aghast (Aghast just popped in my head so I looked it up, the definition was “filled with consternation”- oh, that’s helpful. I looked up consternation, the definition was “surprise and anxiety or dismay” Perfect!), aghast I tell you, I was aghast to find that the central story line is about the failure of Van Johnson to become a successful writer!

OH you twisted fate! How could I have picked this movie? Could it be a joke of the Gods, are they sitting up there laughing?

I watched in aghast as the writer-guy typed ferociously, pencil in mouth for those frequent stops to cross out and note a change. (Can you imagine? No cut and paste? No spell check? ). Pile of crumpled papers at his feet growing.

Finally! He is finished. Celebration! Wine, song, dancing! But then, the rejections start coming in. No one wants his great novel. They all say Oh, very nice, but sorry, doesn’t fit our needs at this time.

Time passes in movie land, Liz and Van have a child, start getting older, he writes a few more novels. Rejections are raining down on him. They sprout up at every turn. They follow him relentlessly. No one wants his novel, nor his novel #2, nor novel #3. He’s loosing it. He turns to the booze.

At this point I pause the film and grab a bottle of wine and a glass- hey, at least I used a glass, he was swiggin’ right from the bottle!

In movie land the relationship is flowing down the drain; they both take up running around with party people. He can’t think of a sentence to put on paper, his well has been pumped dry from all the rejection.

OK, I’m fine I tell myself as I pour another glass, I mean, hey- I’ve only received about 168 rejections for my first book. And the second one? Well, that’s just a small handful- say 87. I’m sure my well is not dry dry; it’s just temporarily slightly evaporated. I heard that Margaret Mitchell had somewhere around 350 rejections for Gone With The Wind before it got picked up- do you think she was hitting the bottle? Wait, It’s only a movie for heaven’s sake!

So the grand finale is coming, the writer is careening around like a sports car that popped a tire on a tight turn. He gets drunk on a cold, dark, rainy, sleety, nasty weather night. The wife is out with a “friend” so he comes home, puts the chain lock in place and passes out on the stairs. She comes home, can’t get in, walks across Paris to her sisters, catches pneumonia and dies. Bummer.

Good Lord Almighty! Madre Di Dios! Is this the vocation I’ve chosen for myself? Is this what happens to rejected writers? Is this the result of the well going dry? Am I gonna end up on skid row, a rejected, alcoholic writer with an accidental murder conviction?

Calm, remain calm, it’s just a movie. A writer’s ghost, a vision from some (F. Scott Fitzgerald) twisted writers mind. I wonder how many times the MS (that’s Manuscript- for those of you who are not in the “biz”) was rejected? I wonder how many times the screenplay was rejected?

It’s just a movie. I’m sure my well is about to gush. At least I haven’t accidentally killed my loved one.