"Whether you join this class or not, go out there into the world and follow your heart. Whatever it is you dream of doing, take action and do it." I am taking the advice of the teacher whose class I audited. No, I won't join the musical workshop class, but I will go out there and "do it".
I've been envisioning how to do my mini episode of a cop show I've created. I've got ideas for several episodes and I've written one of them. BUT - I had been stagnating and treading water a while, tripped up on logistics. Wondering how I could get cop uniforms that look realistic with all that cop brass for free or almost free - when I often don't have enough money to buy all my groceries. At least three full cop uniforms with all the paraphernalia don't come cheap. Oh, and I need two roosters.
I ponder my dilemma as I graze at the reception banquet these actors have put together for visitors. It's kind of like an open house, open class, reception, and greet and meet kind of thing. I pile on the guacamole - the most succulent chunky guacamole I've ever tasted. It's a nicely well-rounded junk-fest. I add a handful of chips, a few chunks of cheese, some rolled up turkey slices, pineapple and strawberries, a couple of coconut macaroons and brownies, I pass on the vegetables, and then I make the rounds, congratulating the actors on their wonderful musical acting performances. I meet a young girl who is now writing and creating her own music. The lady who wrote the song "That Ain't No Way to Treat A Lady", the real song that Helen Ready sang decades ago, is part of this workshop, as is a former opera singer, and a blues singer whose music can make you collapse in tears. I meet people who have booked projects or created shows that have come out of this workshop. It's a workshop full of love, warmth, and art.
Yes, I decide. I'm going out to "do it".
The very next day, I scour Goodwill stores, Quartermasters stores, 99-cent stores, the MacArthur Park Swap Meet, the Santa Monica and Western Swap Meet, army surplus stores, a couple of costume shops. I still haven't quite found what I want for as cheap as I want. But I have begun. So far in my goodie bag - one good pair of cheap handcuffs, a used navy blue lady's shirt and pants that look exactly like a female cop uniform. I wandered into a pseudo-99-cent store in MacArthur Park, and found some realistic-looking guns for 99 cents. And some cheap looking gun holsters that could work. The guns are a bonanza. Most toy guns look like plastic junk. All I have to do is paint these black. On the way out of the store, I meet a Hispanic lady who sells the best curbside corn tamales. I buy a couple and they melt in my mouth. So I've gotten some work done towards my dream AND found the best corn tamales in LA.
OK, back to work. I still need cheap metal badges, the guy cop uniforms, cop batons, other cop odds and ends. And of course, the roosters. I've got a tip they sell real live roosters at some place in Huntington Beach, near Florence and Alameda.
It will take a while but I am on my way. Starting a new project is lonely. It's like you're standing on the edge of an abyss and you have to jump alone and you don't know if the parachute works. But you just have to trust and go for it. Just create something out of empty air.
And once the logistics of costumes, equipment, and location come together, then what? I have to direct a bunch of actors in a story I wrote - my creation, which I have no idea how good it is objectively. And I have to direct them in a police setting, a setting I've learned about only from the outside, from watching TV cop shows, from doing news stories about the LAPD, and from being on the Dexter set. I don't know the inside gestalt of it. They say write what you know, but dang, this cop story is good, unusual, unique. I hope. I tried calling the LAPD to see if I could do a detective ride-along for a day. They turned me down.
So now I'm facing another abyss without a parachute. But I'm going to jump. I'm going to go out there and "do it".