Conservatism

Wildness is a necessity.

I've never really thought of myself as a Conservative. I don't really think of myself as a Liberal either, although I suppose I do go along with what President Kennedy said on the subject:

If by a "Liberal" they mean someone who looks ahead and not behind, someone who welcomes new ideas without rigid reactions, someone who cares about the welfare of the people — their health, their housing, their schools, their jobs, their civil rights, and their civil liberties — someone who believes we can break through the stalemate and suspicions that grip us in our policies abroad, if that is what they mean by a "Liberal," then I'm proud to say I'm a "Liberal."

The problem with such labels is they allow people to be dismissive of other opinions. If I'm a Liberal, then I must disagree with Conservatives, and vice versa. There seems to be a lot of that going around lately. We recently had a primary election here in California, and as a registered "Non-Partisan," I was given the choice of voting as either a Republican or a Democrat. Right or Left. Conservative or Liberal. One or the Other.

It wasn't a hard choice. But it did underscore the weird dichotomy that exists in politics, and in our culture in general. I guess I just don't get conservatism as a philosophy. Sure, I understand that people who have power want to keep things the way they are. And I can see how people who work hard don't want to give their money away to people they don't like. But as a way of life, it seems like conservatism is more about denying possibility than maintaining tradition. These days it seems like the so-called "conservatives" are pretty much opposed to any idea that isn't in their playbook. If they haven't thought of it already, it can't be good. Kind of like Hollywood. More sequels, remakes and franchises -- but please, nothing original. Nothing new. Nothing different.

But there is at least one area in which I do appreciate conservatism. When it comes to protecting and maintaining our natural resources, I think conservatism is the way to go. Conservatism, that is, in its original sense, meaning "preservationism." But this is where we run into trouble. Because many Conservatives seem more intent on preserving the Big Oil Monopoly than they do the environment. They seem more concerned with denying Global Warming than with accepting responsibility for air pollution. We can't afford to keep things "the way they are" when that way leads to calamity.

I first became aware of environmental conservatism in the Boy Scouts. My troop used to hold "paper drives" to raise money. We'd arrange to have a big semi-trailer parked in the church parking lot, and people would come by and drop off stacks of old newspapers and magazines to be recycled. This was a revelation. Paper can be recycled -- who knew? And the best part was that, invariably, some guy would dump off a pile of old Playboy magazines he'd been keeping in his attic, and we'd wind up sitting in the back of the trailer all day looking at pictures of naked women.

Recycling was awesome.

One particularly beautiful summer morning, on Keep America Beautiful Day, our troop set out hiking alongside the state highway that ran past my neighborhood, picking up litter that people had thrown out of their car windows. And there was a lot of it. Nationwide, the Scouts collected over a million tons of litter that day. I'd learned from my camping experiences that we should always leave the campsite better than we found it. I began to think that maybe that rule should apply everywhere.

In high school, I got involved with a student group called the Ecology Club. We organized a trip to Frankfort, our state capital, to join a march protesting the building of a dam that would obliterate a pristine wilderness area known as The Red River Gorge. My Dad and I had gone camping and hiking there, and I thought it was about the most beautiful place on earth. I couldn't imagine losing it forever. Eventually, thanks to a declaration signed by President Clinton, the Gorge was placed under federal protection.

Conservatism.

Those early experiences had a big impact. And the philosophy of being conservative with resources, of not being wasteful, of using only what you need and leaving the world better than you found it, has stayed with me. These days, however, instead of protest marches, I channel my energy towards things like recycling my junk mail and carrying a reusable grocery bag when I walk to the market. What my old high school buddy Hank calls 'microactivism'.

But it still makes me mad when I walk by a store on Rodeo Drive on a hot day and feel the cold blast of air escaping from the open door. Or go to the park and see the parking lot jammed with gas-guzzling SUVs. I feel like I'm the only one who is trying to conserve. Everyone else seems perfectly happy sucking up oil and spewing out waste, driving around in monster Humvees while all the trees are mowed down and the seas are poisoned.

Which brings us to BP. Some Conservatives would suggest that 'over-regulating' the oil industry interferes with the Free Market. They recommend more drilling in more places instead of, say, electric cars and emission caps. But I say that a true conservative would be in favor of preserving the sanctity of God's creation, not spoiling it. I say that a true conservative would welcome the reduction of industrial waste rather than increasing it. I say that true conservatives would want to leave the world a better place than they found it, out of respect and gratitude and a sense of responsibility. You know, Traditional Values.

So, if that is what they mean by "Conservative," then I'm proud to say I'm a "Conservative."

Factotum

Hollywood is the one place in the world where you can die of encouragement.

I started a new job not long ago, and by "new" I mean that I am actually doing a job that I have never done before. For years, I have worked as a paralegal, in various law firms in three different cities. But, when I quit my last job, I vowed to myself that I would never work as a paralegal again. Not that being a paralegal is such a terrible thing. The pay is good. There are often plenty of intelligent people around to talk to -- often including the lawyers. And for the most part it is a job I could pretty much count on getting.

And that was the problem.

Because I had so much experience as a paralegal, and because the pay was good, and because there always seemed to be a need for paralegals, I began to believe that it was the only job I could apply for. The only job I was qualified for. The only job, period.

Except that I hated being a paralegal. Again, not that there's anything wrong with being a paralegal. Well actually there is -- it is essentially a 'go nowhere' position. You can't advance through the ranks of paralegaldom and eventually become a lawyer. Most people become paralegals for a year or two before going on to law school -- or not going on to law school, once they have seen what horrors await them. Some, however, stick it out and become 'career' paralegals, and many end up doing very well. But I felt that being a paralegal was sucking the life out of me little by little, and I had to get out.

So I did.

You know how they say "leap and a net will appear?" Well, I leaped -- or is it leapt? Anyway, I jumped. But, here's the thing -- they don't say when the net will appear. Kind of a big loophole. Oh sure, I had a master plan: I was going to sell a screenplay and make tons of money. And in fact, a couple of months after I quit my job, I had a meeting with an actual Movie Producer who told me how much he loved my script and that he wanted to work with me. It was like one of those signs from the Universe that people are always talking about. Serious encouragement. You made the right choice. Keep at it.

Cool.

So I waited all summer to hear back from the Movie Producer who loved my script. Then, I waited through fall and winter. It's been three years since that meeting, and he still hasn't gotten back to me. And there have been numerous other such encounters, many of them initially encouraging, but most of them essentially bullshit. As Dorothy Parker once said, "Hollywood is the one place in the world where you can die of encouragement."

So I began to think that I might actually have to get another job. But, that meant going back on my vow. That meant being a paralegal again. And that felt like death.

I tried applying for non-paralegal jobs, but the problem with getting a job is, they only want to hire someone who has already done that exact job for at least two years already. So how does anyone ever get a new job? The other problem with applying for jobs is my resume. I basically have two things on my resume: Paralegal and Writer/Editor. I worked in publishing for a short time when I was in New York and did some free-lance work as a writer here and there. But that was a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.

I've had lots of other jobs, too. But they don't make it onto my resume: Dishwasher, Movie Theater Usher, Busboy, Short Order Cook, Ice Cream Truck Driver, Construction Worker, Office Manager, State Park Work Crew, Swimming Pool Tech... And some I can't remember.

Lately though, the choices seem to be getting narrower and narrower. I guess because I've always taken jobs as a sideline to my real pursuit, which was to be a writer, I've never really had what one might call a "career." And so I seem to be stuck with the same stopgap job that I accidentally fell into when I moved to Washington DC one year and was told I could easily find work as a paralegal.

But then, one day, the phone rang. It was a woman who works at a production company that makes reality TV shows. I met her through my friend Jimmy. She hired him about a year ago when his lucrative job in commercial real estate suddenly disappeared. He told me how much he loved the new job, so I said that if they are looking for anyone else, tell them I am available. When I didn't hear back after a few months, I kind of forgot about it. But then, out of the blue, here she was calling me up and offering me a job. The net finally appeared!

And I took it.

The funny thing is, the actual work I do isn't really that different from some of the work I did as a paralegal. I'm using many of the same skills and performing similar tasks. But there is one big difference: I actually enjoy it. For all those years I had been working at a job that had nothing to do with anything I care about. Now I am involved in something that fascinates me. Everything I've learned about arcane things like story beats and character arcs has become a valuable part of my resume. The time I spent teaching myself how to produce, direct, shoot and edit my short movie is now on-the-job training. All the books I've read, all the seminars and classes I attended, all those hours sitting alone at home working out plot points and creating storyboards -- they've all become applicable experience.

Plus, all of the skills and techniques I acquired while working in law firms and publishing and construction and even driving an ice cream truck have contributed to my overall understanding of what it takes to get the job done and see it through. Nothing is wasted. All knowledge is transferable.

But, best of all, I am finally at a job where there is somewhere to go. I don't have to remain in my present position forever. Who knows, maybe I could even become a TV producer.

Of course, I've been through this before. When I worked in publishing, I thought I had found my dream job, only to have it rudely taken away from me. But, for now, I am just happy to be working at something that feels right. Not just a sideline or a stopgap, but something I could do for real.

Or, at least until I sell a screenplay.

Merlin

You can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards.

My Dad sent me an email the other day that contained a link to a speech given by Steve Jobs to the 2005 graduating class of Stanford University. In it, Jobs relates three stories from his life, each of which seemed like a major setback at the time, but which eventually led him to bigger and better things. One of the stories was about getting fired from Apple, the company he started in his parent's garage when he was a 20-year-old college drop-out. It was devastating for him, but it also led him to one of the most creative periods in his life.

It reminded me of the time I got fired. Of course, the company I got fired from was not one that I had started, nevertheless the experience was a major blow. I was working in publishing as a managing editor at a small boutique firm in the Chelsea district of Manhattan. It was as close as I'd ever gotten to a 'dream job' -- basically being paid to be a writer, or more accurately, to rewrite other writers. I was working in a creative field with other creative people. No more temping in law firms for me! I was beginning an actual career. Like a real adult.

Or so I thought.

When the three book series I'd been working on was finished -- on time and under budget thanks to my tireless efforts -- my usefulness at the small company came to an end. Several lame explanations were offered for my dismissal, but the plain truth was they didn't want to keep paying me what I was worth when they could easily find some young kid to do the job at half the pay. Which they did.

So I was out on my ass. And the economy was bad. I reluctantly reapplied to the temp agencies, but they had diddley. I tried to shop one of my book ideas, a parody of the Twelve-Step Program called The Twelve Shleps, but was told that Twelve-Steppers wouldn't find it funny.

I was unemployed and out of ideas. I had too much time on my hands and nothing to do. I spent long days exploring New York City from top to bottom -- from The Cloisters to Coney Island -- discovering whole new worlds in hidden places. I walked all over Brooklyn and spent hours in Prospect Park, the Botanic Garden, and the Brooklyn Public Library. It was actually a pretty amazing time. I came to love New York more than ever and really feel at home there.

Meanwhile, I had a roommate who was working in the movie business and would bring home screenplays from whatever movie he was working on. I picked one up one day and read it in one sitting. And from that moment I was hooked. I'd been interested in movies all my life, but it wasn't till then that I realized that all I needed to make a movie was pen and paper. Well, not a pen, actually, a computer. And I didn't really need the paper right away. What I needed was an idea.

I thought about all of my favorite stories growing up: James Bond, Robin Hood, Sherlock Holmes, King Arthur... I loved the story of Arthur and Merlin most of all. My high-school girlfriend had given me a copy of The Once and Future King and it had always held special meaning for me. And the Disney cartoon The Sword in the Stone had long been a favorite. Employing one of the screenwriter's most valuable tools, I began thinking "what if..." What if Merlin were to show up in modern day New York? My New York. What would he think? How would he react? How would New York react to him? One thing I knew -- it would definitely be a comedy.

I began by doing tons and tons of research. I read everything ever written about Merlin and King Arthur, from Geoffrey of Monmouth to Tennyson to the excellent series by Norma Lorre Goodrich. I prowled the Brooklyn Library and the New York Public Library for information on dragons, magic, Celtic symbolism, ley lines, chivalry, Avalon, and dozens of other topics. I couldn't get enough. The more I learned the more I wanted to learn. I had taken to heart the words spoken by Merlin to Arthur in The Once and Future King: "Learn why the world wags and what wags it."

All the while, I continued to explore New York, the city of never-ending discoveries. I went to a renaissance fair at Fort Tryon Park to see a mock joust and witnessed a Merlin figure dressed in a purple robe practicing tai chi with a beautiful polished wooden sword. I came upon a Wiccan circle in the middle of Prospect Park, celebrating the pagan holiday of Ostara. I wandered through Central Park and beheld a vision of the Grail Castle, a winged dragon hovering over its entrance.

I became fascinated with Stonehenge and the concept of ley lines, imagining that these magical energy pathways that ran through the earth's surface were somehow connected both to Merlin and the dragons -- and that Stonehenge was the vortex of their power. Then one day, while investigating Celtic symbols, I found a drawing depicting a dragon beneath the surface of Stonehenge, just as I had imagined. I was blown away -- this idea I thought I had conjured up on my own was right there in front of me in black and white. I called the person who created the graphic and explained how my vision quest had led me to the discovery of his artwork. He chuckled and said, "you're just on the brink of a much larger world."

As it turns out, he was right, although I don't think in the way he meant it. What I was on the brink of was the world of screenwriting. I took all of my research and distilled it into a story of a young man who goes to England and stumbles into a crystal cave where he awakens Merlin from a magic spell -- then returns to New York and finds that it wasn't all a dream, and that Merlin has followed him home and chosen him to be his next pupil.

I wrote several drafts, and each time I did, it seemed that the events I created in my story were being recreated in my real life. Soon after writing a scene where my main character gets mugged, I got mugged. I wrote a sequence where two knights on horseback are jousting on the Brooklyn Bridge and the next day I saw Woody Harrelson and Kiefer Sutherland dressed as cowboys riding horses across the Manhattan Bridge. Likewise, the things I experienced in my life were finding their way into the script -- the tai chi sword master, my trip to the Cloisters, the Grail Castle in Central Park. I got so wrapped up in my story that I never wanted it to end. It was a whole new world.

Eventually I decided to enter a contest, thus giving myself a deadline. I finished the script and sent it off, fully expecting to hear from Steven Spielberg any minute. I didn't win the contest, though, and I never heard from Spielberg. But that didn't deter me. I was already researching my second script -- based on my love of the Sherlock Holmes stories -- and was reading everything ever written on the subject. And loving every minute of it.

I finished the second script a lot faster than the first. And I even attracted the attention of a William Morris agent. I was on my way now. I had proven that I wasn't just a 'one hit wonder' and that I had material with commercial appeal. And I already had a third idea, about a guy who fantasizes about being James Bond. There was only one thing left to do, and that was to move to Hollywood.

I still don't know where this path is leading, but looking back I am able to connect some of the dots. Getting fired from that publishing 'dream job' gave me the freedom to pursue a passion that has kept me inspired ever since I read that first script. And lately, I have only become more inspired. I know there are more 'dots' on the horizon. I just haven't connected them yet.