for Aaron Sorkin

It seems that I am constantly apologizing for not posting on my blog. I'm sorry for always apologizing. And I'm sorry for not posting more. On the plus side, it's because I've been busy writing posts for other people's blogs and gearing up for the publicity whirlwhind that is coinciding with the AmazonEncore release of Faking It, just a mere dozen days away. On the minus side, I've used up all my good ideas for the blog tour, and blog-posting can be quite time-consuming, especially when you also teach 40+ students and have just as many papers to grade, the average 5 pages long apiece.


The Oscar fog has lifted and the red carpet has been rolled up and taken away, but I'm still basking in the glow of Aaron Sorkin's win for Best Adapted Screenplay, as I'm sure he still is (I always wonder if winners actually take their trophies to bed with them the first few days after winning... I probably would).

I never blogged about my meeting Sorkin back in September of last year. For one thing, it was part of a wave of meeting several people who have had some influence throughout the course of my life, from Patrick McDonnell (Mutts creator who is now getting some attention since his little book The Gift of Nothing just made Oprah's list -- it's on mine as well) to David Newell (aka Mr. McFeely from Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood, who took the time to follow up and send me some potential teaching materials). But for another thing, I didn't want to make a big deal about it. It was a personal thing, and I didn't want to attach any fanfare to it.

Unlike getting a tweet from my teen love John Taylor (in response I did a happy dance around my apartment and immediately posted about it on Facebook -- I recall a lot of exclamation points), I wasn't the least bit starstruck when I tapped Sorkin on his shoulder following a Q&A at an advanced screening of The Social Network, which I was fortunate to attend. I'd been visualizing that moment for months-- not as a fantasy, but more like something already actualized. I'd made it an intention to meet the writer who's given me so much inspiration, and had sensed it was going to happen during my fantastic "Year of Turning 40."

We didn't have a chance to say much to each other -- he, Jesse Eisenberg, and Armie Hammer were on their way to another screening/Q&A scheduled the same evening -- but he recognized my name from my interaction on the now-extinct Facebook discussion forum, took my hand, and seemed as genuinely pleased to finally meet me in person as I was to meet him. If I'd had more guts, I would've asked to tag along on the way to the next screening just so we could chat some more. But alas, I'm not that daring. Besides, in that moment, I wasn't a fan. I haven't been for quite some time (that's not to say I've lost admiration for his work -- far from it). I don't know if I would consider myself a colleague, or even a friend -- neither of those labels feel accurate either. I suppose I was just one writer meeting another writer.

Following Sorkin's Oscar win, one of my dear friends (whom I met via Facebook thanks to that aforementioned now-extinct discussion forum, along with about 30 other darling people, some of whom I still have yet to meet in person, although it certainly doesn't feel like that) called me and left a message: "We met an Academy Award winner (he had met Sorkin during the TSN premiere in NYC, which about 16 of our group attended, meeting each other in person for the first time, yet feeling like we'd just seen each other the day before). How cool is that?"

Yeah, it is cool.

It's cool not because it's Aaron Sorkin, but because the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. My friends and I felt like we had watched this movie unfold from pregancy to birth, watched it grow up and graduate with honors. Kind of like honorary aunts and uncles. And Aaron was gracious enough to let us be a part of it for that short time. We're proud of everyone who was directly involved with the film (and although Tom Hooper was certainly deserving of his Oscar for The King's Speech, I was bummed that David Fincher didn't win for Best Director). But we're more touched by what we've come to mean to each other. I stood up and cheered (actually, it was more like a YAWP) when Sorkin's name was called, and remained standing while he said his thank-yous, my hand lightly tapping my heart.

I hope to meet Mr. Sorkin again, and this time exchange more than cordial hellos. I think there's much to talk about, none of it having to do with Facebook or The Social Network. I just like talking to writers, I guess.

If I had the chance to say anything to him right now, I'd say this:

Congratulations, Aaron -- you did it! Way to go. I know you're afraid of what comes next, that anything you write will be known as that-thing-you-wrote-after-The-Social-Network, and will be held up against TSN (probably not unlike the way Studio 60 was that-thing-you-wrote-after-The-West-Wing). Just do it, just write. Keep doing what you always do--writing the best you can, what you like--and allow it to be whatever it turns out to be. Then write the next thing. And the next.

From one writer to another.

heart with joy

For the past week I've been trying to compose a post that encompasses the depth of awesome that is my life right now. I'm using that word in its true meaning. As I said the other night during a Q&A, "I'm having a fantastic year." Just in the last week, I've met three people who have inspired me throughout my life: Patrick McDonnell (creator of the award-winning comic strip Mutts), David Newall (aka "Speedy Delivery" Mr. McFeely, from Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood), and, perhaps most notably, Aaron Sorkin.

I could've blogged about every single one. And I wanted to, but the words didn't seem to come.

Instead, I wanted to blog about what was behind the manifestation of these fortunes: the intention. The things that have come to me this year have all been the result of an intention I set. I visualized (not fantasized--that's a completely different action) my book on bookshelves, being read and enjoyed by people not related to or friendly with me. I visualized shaking hands with Aaron Sorkin, exchanging pleasantries, seeing him not as a star or a hero, but as a writer who is every bit as terrified of the blank page as I am. And meeting Mr. McFeely was the closest I could ever come to meeting Fred Rogers--he was definitely present--and there wasn't an adult there who wasn't as giddy as I was (especially when he brought out the puppets!). Our inner children had been tapped, and we were reminded of how special we are because we are each unique.

This past Saturday, I filled in for Stacey Cochran as MC for the latest Write2Publish event at Quail Ridge Books & Music. I intereviewed award-winning author Steve Cushman, whose latest novel, Heart With Joy, is an endearing tale about connecting to our authentic selves through the things (and people) we love. I ended the event on a cheesy but seemingly appropriate question: "What fills your heart with joy?"

If someone had asked me that question, I would've told them about my friend Larry, who'd called me an hour before the event to tell me about a woman he'd met who lost her spouse, that he told her all about my novel Ordinary World. And he thanked me again for creating Andi.

I would've told them about sitting in It's a Grind or Crema Coffee, breaking off pieces of a chocolate chip muffin or sipping vanilla chai, sometimes hanging out with my friend Susan, working on my latest manuscript.

I would've told them about the 2-hr phone conversation with my sister that passed like 10 minutes. Or the texts from my twin brother that had me in stitches.

I would've told them about driving in my Volkswagon Beetle with the windows down, on a great hair day, Duran Duran blasting away.

I would've told them about seeing Daniel Striped Tiger up close, and waving to him.

I would've told them stories about my grandmother, about my siblings, about their music.

I would've told them about walking on the beach off season on the east end of Long Island, or down Main Street in Sag Harbor.

I would've told them to get The West Wing from Netflix. Or The Big Bang Theory. Or the old Marx Bros. movies.

I would've told them about my writing partner and our discussions about our novel.

I would've told them about the "friends I've never met" (you know who you are!).

I would've told them two words: pop tarts.

I would've told them, quite simply, writing. Even on the days when it's sucking.

I have my bad days, my struggles and insecurities, my wasted time and procrastination, my fears and lost opportunities like everyone else. But I also have gratitude for the good, the bad, and the ugly. It's a blessed life.

What intentions will you set for yourself today? I'm not talking word or calorie counts, to-do lists or goal-setting. I'm talking intention -- the vision of your life in its highest form. And what fills your heart with joy? How can or do you fill it on a daily basis?

Elisa appears on Kindle Nation Daily!

Stephen Windwalker's Kindle Nation Daily is the place to go for all things Kindle. Readers (some 10,000 KND followers) get the inside scoop on new and upcoming authors, new Kindle features, how-tos, and any other Kindle-related news. Authors who have been featured on this mega-blog site have seen significant increases in their sales and Kindle rankings.

And so, I, humble wordsmith, have the good fortune to be one of those authors. Check out this feature which includes a lengthy sample (FREE!) of Faking It, plus a rather nice little write-up and profile (and yes, I pilfered the NC State homepage photo).

Meanwhile, work on WILS continues. We've enlisted the help of a reader with the first couple of chapters, which I believe to be the weakest right now. Not good when you want to hook an audience. He's been very helpful so far, giving ideas that I wouldn't have considered on my own and driving home the suckage point (I don't mean to say that he's been harsh in his criticism--quite the contrary. Rather, that there's so much of it is telling.)

And speaking of suckage, I don't think my writing partner will mind if I share a little chat we had this morning:

Her: Eiuch! I just typed out some of the dialogue I wrote yesterday -- it SUCKS. (caps hers)
Me: Don'tcha hate when that happens? You think it's all brilliant as you write it, until you read it the next day and go, "Oh, this is all shit."
Her: Only it didn't seem brilliant to begin with. It's THAT bad.
Me: Oh, you mean cover-it-with-a-sheet bad...

I don't know why writers are so hard on themselves. But if we can't laugh at our own suckage, then how will we ever work through it to turn it into something good?

Finally, I got another little nod earlier in the week from Aaron Sorkin, who happened to find out that I was showing The West Wing episode "Isaac and Ishmael" to my classes. According to Aaron,

Elisa should give her class a pop-quiz on the episode but throw them curveballs like "Who was the Second Assistant Wardrobe Mistress? (This counts for 75% of your grade this semester)".

My response: What do you think the extra credit question was?

fade to black

The Aaron Sorkin and the Facebook Movie page is gone. Don't try to look for it.

I came to the "Questions for me" discussion board about a year ago when I found out that Aaron Sorkin had a Facebook page. My first post was to tell him that I had included him in my acknowledgments for Faking It. Oh yeah, and I also asked him a question. Something really stupid in which I was trying way too hard to impress him.

He replied to my post. Said he was flattered to be included, and asked for a copy of my book.

Imagine being a musician and Paul McCartney asking for a copy of your album. Yeah, it's a little like that.

Every now and then, I think the regulars who returned to that discussion board day after day occasionally wondered if it really was Aaron Sorkin answering our questions. It wasn't so much cynicism as just wondering if life really was this good. If we were being deluded, then we were more than happy to be part of the hoax. Because it wasn't just the thrill of getting a response from our favorite writer, a man who has given us hours and hours of nourishment to make up for The Bachelor. He gave us writing advice. He gave us moral support. He joined our banter, made us laugh, made us think, and told us the best behind-the-scenes stories ever.

He let us play in his sandbox.

But here's the real gift that came out of it. "Questions for me" became "Conversations among friends." Or perhaps more like a happy, albeit occasionally dysfunctional family. When we weren't asking Aaron questions, and when he was busy attending to important matters, we carried on the conversation without him. Whether it was a spirited discussion about cake, or a debate about language, health care, or religion, we all talked. And we listened. And we agreed and disagreed. And we became friends. And we supported one another. We bought each other's books. We watched each other's shows. We offered support, comfort, and encouragement when needed.

We understood that all good things must pass; we just wish it didn't have to pass so soon.

On the final night, we all stayed together in the forum, as long as we could, waiting for the ship to go down. We kept talking, joking, asking questions, telling stories. But we mostly thanked Aaron Sorkin for being so gracious, such a good host for the last 18 months. It was only then that we had no words at all.

Once again, Aaron Sorkin touched me with his words. One of the last things he said, directed at the writers, was "I expect great things from you."

I just hope I don't let you down.

Q&A with Aaron Sorkin

Elisa asks:

Aaron-
Do you write for yourself, or do you have a specific audience in mind, even if it's just one reader?
Elisa

Aaron Sorkin answers:

Elisa,
That's a good question. First, what I don't do is try to guess what the most amount of people will like and then give it to them. I don't think I'd guess right and I don't think I'd be able to give it to them but mostly I think it's a bad recipe for writing.

I write what I like and what I think my friends would like and then hope that enough other people like it that I can earn a living.

Also, and I don't mean this at all in the snooty way, I write for the least passive members of the audience. I write for people who love movies and love television and love plays. I write for the people who watch the DVDs over and over and notice that the coffee cup isn't full.
Aaron

So now, I ask you: Do you write for yourself, or do you have a specific audience in mind, even if it's just one reader?

awestruck: what The Beatles and Aaron Sorkin have in common

Ah, my poor neglected blog! I was hoping to get a post in sooner, but as they say, "better late than pregnant"...

The other day I was in my car. I had forgotten to bring my audiobook with me, so I popped in Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. I hadn't listened to it in ages.

I grew up listening to the Beatles. They were extended members of my family. My brothers are musicians and one is a recording engineer because of the Beatles. I can sing their harmonies, play any of their songs on my guitar (provided it's in the key of G, E, D, or A -- in other words, the easy stuff), and more. I'm no stranger to Pepper.

But the other day, something struck me. I heard something that I'd never really paid attention to before -- the guitar overdubs in the Reprise had a distinctive sound as opposed to the bass and drums. Naturally, I called the Pepper guru (my brother Mike), and asked him about it. It turns out that my theory of how it was done was close to how it was actually done, and I was quite pleased with myself for having such a perceptive ear. I was equally pleased to be able to have a conversation with Mike and not sound like a complete idiot. I love to hear him talk about it. The passion in his voice is as inspiring as the album itself.

Mike and I continued to discuss other technical nuances, and once again I marveled at the final product of this album. The Beatles get credit for the great music -- that's where it all starts. But Geroge Martin, Geoff Emerick, and the assistant engineers get all the credit for going beyond the bounds of recording and asking "How can this be done?" instead of settling for "It can't be done" or "It's never been done before." I am simply astounded by the engineering, the sound of it all, not to mention the hows and whats and whys of it.

Meanwhile, I've been watching Season 1 of The West Wing since buying the DVD box for a fab price at a used bookstore (all I need are Seasons 2 and 4, and Sports Night!)

I watch episodes of The West Wing the way I listen to Sgt. Pepper: in awe.

So many episodes of TWW -- in Season 1 alone -- stand alone as short films, cinematic pieces of art. Just as Pepper starts with the music, TWW starts with the writing. I will never stop talking about Aaron Sorkin's talent, his orchestral-like compositions of dialogue, his penchant for telling a story and/or putting two characters into a room together who disagree on something. Sorkin considers himself a playright first and foremost, and so many episodes of TWW can be performed as such. When he left the show at the end of Season 4, the show kept being nominated for Emmys and was one of the better dramas on television. But that's all it was for me-- another drama on television. It had lost its heart and soul, as far as I was concerned. Imagine the Beatles without John Lennon.

But what makes TWW so great are all the other elements -- acting, directing, music, lighting, set design, props, etc. These are the equivalent to the reverbs, overdubs, mic settings, orchestral arrangements, track bouncing, etc., of Pepper. And, like all those who worked on Pepper, each one is at the top of his/her game. It's downright synergistic.

And don't get me started on rhetorical appeals. TWW is so fabulously rhetorical and so full of pathos that I must stop myself from taking Season 1 to class with me and doing a complete analysis for my students (I'm afraid I'd be the only one in the room having any fun.)

Recently on the Aaron Sorkin forum "Questions for me" on Facebook, Aaron Sorkin himself responded to a conversation between a couple of writers about listening to music while writing. Two of us, myself being one of them, commented that we couldn't listen to music while writing (what we had failed to clarify was that by "writing" we meant "typing").

His advice:
"Don't do it while you're writing--do it while you're thinking. Or not thinking. Listen to music in the car. You'll hear an old song you liked when you were in high school and suddenly the lyrics will mean something new to you."

He's right, of course, and so much of this kind of musical interaction serves as the inspiration for a scene or bit of dialogue or a character's motivation. Pepper doesn't necessarily inspire the ordinary. Pepper inspires synergy. It piques my curosity, and makes me want to break each song and listen to it piece by piece.

As does TWW. Such works of art inspire me to be at the top of my game while simultaneously taking my breath away. Better still, they bring me joy and keep me close to people I love.

My point?
I'm not sure. I suppose it is this: find your own Sgt. Pepper or West Wing. Find the creative masterpiece that knocks your socks off, and draw from it like water from a well. Let it quench your own thirst to create, and sustain you through the dry spells. Let it taste good and cool you off or warm you up and feel all gooey and happy inside and out. Swim in it. Bathe in it. Or just float.

why I write

A woman on the Aaron Sorkin and the Facebook Movie discussion forum "Questions for Me?" asked Mr. Sorkin the question "Why do you write?" and invited other regular forum participants, myself included, to respond as well. Of course, I couldn't pass up the opportunity. I wrote the following answer, although when I awoke this morning, I thought of a bunch of other reasons as well. Here's the reprint:

I write as a way of learning more about myself and the world around me. I write as witness, or in response to others' witness. I write because I have something to say, something to feel, something to sort through. I write because I want others to think about things in ways they've not previously thought. I write because I can't *not* do it.

I write fiction because I have a story to tell, as well as a truth. The idea for the story always comes to me in the form of a what-if, and it never comes when I'm looking for it. As for truth, I'm usually not conscious of that until the character(s) reveals it to me. And sometimes that can be well into the revision process. And before it's revealed, it's manipulated, denied, explored, hidden, questioned, argued, etc.

(A side note. I used to never get when lit professors talked about "hidden meanings" until I started writing fiction. And keep in mind that I was not a lit major in college, and my graduate work was in rhetoric. I don't think of my fiction as literary -- I think of it as rhetorical. I use symbolism. But sometimes that symbolism is lost on me until I read the final draft and say, "hey, neat." Or a reader finds something that had never even occurred to me.)

And yet, I also write fiction because it gives me a chance to re-arrange certain truths. After a disappointing outcome of a relationship, I wrote a novel (actualy, pieces of it -- I haven't finished it and may never do so, although my friend thinks it should be an HBO sitcom), and gave the protag the relationship I had wanted w/ this guy. I found it immensely satisfying to change the outcome. In a fictional world, the Twin Towers can stand tall again, or the Dodgers can remain in Brooklyn, or Jed Bartlett is president of the United States. I enjoy the Land of Make Believe. It was my favorite part of Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood. In rhetoric, the goal is to persuade. (I also loved when Stephen Colbert coined "truthiness." I've proposed academic conference papers on the subject, and have yet to be accepted.)

I also had lots of imaginary friends as a kid. How's that for truth.

That being said, however, I don't really get into fantasy or science fiction genres. Maybe it's too much belief for me to suspend.

Not to say that it's always easy; but in the end, writing is home to me.

I promise you that Aaron's answer was far less wordy and far more interesting.

And so, I pass the question on to you: Why do you write?