Sometimes someone will break all the rules and tell you the truth. You'd be lucky and maybe it would be one of the Big Moments in your life. It happens. I know it because .... it just happened to me. My fingers are flying and the pot of coffee I just made will have to sit for a bit.
I'm going to share a bit of an email, The Email (did I say thank you yet ... )
"Being polite is not fun. You have the ability to rant, rave and somehow tie in green pastures, leprechauns and fields of daisies ... all the while talking about an unknown land of Romania which has the largest prostitution ring in the world. Girls are stolen from the streets and shipped out as slaves. Then you talk about a white bag that is just incredible. It's not the bag* ... it's the writing that makes the bag.
Sad to say, no one gets anywhere in life by being nice all the time. You are writing what you think you should be saying. Don't. I would write a blog on why you have to have a blog instead of a thirty six page transcript. I think they would love it. You know why? Cause you're packing a set of balls ...
You can even mix Hollywood in it. I despise Hollywood but mix the snake and Jackson and your experiences in the mix. People love other people's drama.
Write for blood. Tell it."
Wow. I get it, I'm grateful and yes. (*except the bag? it's the bag that's good, oh lyrical and joyous moment of finding perfection in a bag - nothing can take that away and it is oh so rare, not fond of IT bags that scream look at me. Oh please. Unless it's old and has patina and stories.)
The truth is I have to blog because (a) I really, really like a few other blogs. That seems a good and true a reason. Here they are ...
http://www.libertylondongirl.com/, http://silentstoryteller.typepad.com/blog/, http://colin-mcdowell.blogspot.com/.
And (b) sending out with shaky fingers a book of little moments in fashion, needing to find an agent who could fall in love with the project and sell it. It's all flux right here right now. Is the book industry going to survive, is the ipad going to kill the kindle, will amazon trounce apple, will all the indie book stores (that we LOVE) close down, will everyone that wants to read just download something, will writers get advances (oh please) and ....... (oh new thought) do you need a reality show to sell a book?
So while I pleasantly wait, so to speak, I have had an alt life. Not unlike Anais Nin who did erotic little stories, not unlike Harrison Ford who did carpentry and not unlike every dentist who dreams of selling a screenplay, a painting, an invention. Day trading, which certainly has its own discipline and risk. To do it well, one must wake up in the black of night, step over sleeping dogs and try to think. It's fast and probably best suited, as I have been told, to twenty year old gamers who have no distractions. Well, I only have distractions and my experience with gaming is limited to driving a curly haired boy and his friends to EB Games and plunking down deposits because, sigh, these things sell out like black Manolo's.
Dreaming. You can dream if you're very lucky, reaching and reaching. The getting is all good, really it is. But it's the dreaming that makes you smile.
I love fashion, every single rickety staircase that might end up with a piece of someone else's dream. All work, craft, art, beauty, soul.
So, for now, fashion and trading, dogs under my desk and kittens on top. Detente ...
And were you as surprised as I was by how very, very good Ms. Beckham's collection was? How did that happen ...