A. Lynn

This moment? This is why I work so hard. And why I always will.

The past few weeks have been none stop go, go, go. From traveling eighteen hundred miles, thirty-six hundred round trip, with massive delays last weekend, to playing catch-up this week between sporting events and having someone I've started to think of as a friend with far more experience and talent in the writing world talk me off the ledge, to so many incredible lectures, courses, and info-dumps surrounding hours of writing and note taking while cleaning, scheduling hospital trips, follow-ups, year-end IEP and 504 meetings, and more. The amount of caffeine I have consumed has likely been dangerous, the lack of sleep borderline insomnia, and the rage in which I destroyed my combination dry erase, corkboard story break web for that one project? Well, that was just catharsis.

But this moment? This hug my sister so beautifully captured this past weekend at the Illinois Special Olympics Regionals? This is now a core memory.

My daughter doesn't hug. She'll hold hands, sure. But hugging isn't big on her radar. She's not very touch based because of her autism and I have accepted that. We've found other ways to show and share affection that fit into her wheelhouse and meet her comfort levels because that is more important that forcing a hug on her. Still, there have been moments where all I have wanted is to wrap her up and just hold her; particularly when life has gone side ways and I just want to know she's okay. Sometimes she'll offer but I can see the discomfort on her face so I'll tell her it's okay. Or if I really could use that little side hug? I'll accept what I can get and tell her how much I appreciate it. This though? This moment when I told her how proud she should be of herself when she came in an incredibly close third, how proud I was of her? I wasn't expecting a full hug. Even now, I'm having a hard time not crying.

We don't always get to choose the way our lives work out. It is up to us how we respond to it though. Life may never be the way I envisioned, there may always be parts I wish were different, both for myself and for my children. Moments like this, however, are perfect in their imperfections and I will forever hold onto them as my reasons why the sleepless nights are worth it. If I can give them a better life, show them that continuing to show up for themselves is what matters most, then I have done my job. And hell, a few more hugs like this wouldn't hurt either.

Let's try this again, and hopefully with less "interesting" comments from Dudebros who took things a little sideways...

This is 37; loose skin, not so loose skin, scars, shape wear outline to keep it all together and all. Yesterday, I wore heels for the first time in years, watched my cousin get married to an incredible woman who completes him after attending yet another incredible lecture while drinking an overdose of coffee to stay awake from the 4 hours of sleep I got after a cluster of travel delays the evening before. And I did it while wrangling two kids who are simultaneously the best and worst dates I could have to something like this (they pick *terrible* drinks and never offer to handle the bill) and looking fine as hell because I am.

36 was a year of tears, of shedding what didn't serve me from every neuron of my soul to the very nooks and crannies of my external life. It was a year of letting go, accepting closed doors as lessons instead of missed opportunities or signs I wasn't good enough, and digging deep. I took more risks, was vulnerable in ways that terrified me, grew not only my portfolio with more writing samples that better showcase just where my strengths are, but grew my support circle, and now? Now there's only forward.

So, here's to 37. Here's to bigger, better spec pilots and scripts. To more solo dates with myself in my city as I take notes on the courses that are helping carve a name for myself in this industry by making me an even better storyteller. Perhaps most of all, here's to being a little bit delusional in believing that not only can I do this, but I will.

For all the tears I've cried, I raise a glass. There will be more of you, but I'll keep proving to myself that not only can I handle more than I thought, I will smile right back at those wishing for my downfall and toast their health. No matter what happens over the course of this next year, I'll keep showing up for myself and these babies I am blessed to have been gifted to raise, and proving all of the people who dared tell me and that I so wrongfully believed I couldn't succeed in this world that I'm not giving up. And I never will.

This is fitting today, minus the final reminder. Well, mostly.

I had to get a bit, shall we say, assertive with one of my fellow writers today. And I can already hear the writers that follow me going "uh-oh, that's a no-no!" Yeah, well... Sometimes it's a necessity for the good of a project as well.

As writers, it is not our job to tell actors how to act, directors how to direct, intimacy choreographers how to choreograph, or music supervisors what songs to select. If it was? We'd likely be paid a hell of a lot more. Mostly because we'd be doing all of those jobs instead of just writing. And that's not to say some of us *can't* do those jobs and haven't. There are plenty of incredible writer/directors out there, several of which I (likely wrongfully) idolize. Some are even triple threats. Again, it's not entirely unheard of but so few do this well that it's not the norm and knowing your skillset and accepting your limitations is something we all need to come to terms with.

Today I had to push back against the previous writer of the pilot I was put in charge of on the indie project I'm working on. I get it. It's hard to relinquish control, even if it was by choice. I also understand that kneejerk reaction of "But those are *MY* words!" and wanting to see them stay. Here's the thing, scripts change. Constantly. What is written in a first draft may not make the final cut. Never fall in love with anything, except maybe the primary concept/main storyline. Which this individual has attempted to change several times, including today when they stated that things that have been solidified since day one no longer made sense to them... I don't know why this happened, if it was genuine confusion, sour grapes, or something else. We spent thirty minutes as a team walking through the main storyline from start to finish for both the pilot and the entire season though and only this team member claimed to no longer understand, calling it convoluted. I don't know what to do and it's not really my job to know what to do about that. It's just my job to write and that, I plan to do.

At this point, the script just needs to be written so we can *then* edit. We've done this once before with a different lead in mind, a different focus in place and production didn't like it. They acknowledged that the focus was off for the demographic they wanted the show for and that our original pitch was more inline with what they originally requested. Unfortunately, there's now a split in our team as a few still feel the previous script could have worked had we just shifted a few things around while the rest of us know it couldn't have. It was a show with a protagonist no one would have cared about. Their goal and wants weren't interesting enough, the stakes not high enough. This new set up creates a much more engaging dynamic with higher stakes and a more rewarding goal.

This morning has been a bit of a struggle, but I'm going to keep pushing forward. There's enough of the team at my back that agrees with what I'm doing, supporting where I'm taking things based off their notes, feedback, and more. Is this overwhelming? Absolutely. Will I do it anyway? Without a doubt.