Keeping the Faith (with the help of Russell Crowe)

Recently, I watched the Russell Crowe movie, The Next Three Days. Have any of you seen it? I'd heard mixed reviews about it but I think Mr. Crowe is quite the actor and I'll often see a movie just because he's in it. Without giving anything away, the film chronicles his character's efforts to break his wife out of prison. She was accused of murder and the couple runs out of legal options to set her free. As often happens in life, I found that one of the themes of the movie collided with something I've been thinking a lot about recently: instincts and your gut.

In the film, Russell's character is 100% sure that his wife did not commit the crime she was found guilty of. Regardless of evidence, the sway of family opinion and time, he knows in his heart that she is innocent. His stronghold on his belief becomes an issue in the film and he's often left having to defend his opinion. His gut told him that his wife was not capable of the crime.

Now, I know a movie is a movie and real life is real life, but I found the tenacity with which the character held on to his instincts to be quite inspirational. How can you hold steady to your gut even when the people around you waver? How can you trust yourself? So often in life, we're asked to take a leap of faith - in our careers, in love, in friendship - but that leap of faith has to come from somewhere. It has to come from your gut. And you have to trust it in order to fully invest in your decision.

Not long ago, I wrote a novel entitled, The Breakup Face. Through a wonderfully supportive friend, I met a literary agent who read the book and loved it. He quickly took me on as a client and began sending the book out. In my gut I felt that this book would be published. I could see it. That was a number of months ago and a publisher has yet to take the novel on. I'm told by every writer I know that this is par for the course and to stick with it and keep the faith. Yet, all I can think about are ways to change the book. So now I put it out to all of you smart women: how can I prevent myself from losing steam? My confidence in the book is waning and the clarity of what I saw is growing foggy. How do I get that knowing feeling back? When your instincts tell you one thing and reality is telling you another, how can I get my Russell Crowe on and keep the faith?

On Our Way!

With the recommended dosage of Immodium in my belly, Joe and I got in a cab and journeyed on to our Globe Aware meeting point. In the cab, I was amazed by all of the people on the street selling goods – everything from hairbrushes to snacks. When the cab stopped at a red light, the car was quickly surrounded by people selling their goods/products. Beautifully balancing their items on their head, they’d try to sell their goods to anyone willing. Although it took some time to get used to being surrounded by people whenever the car came to a halt, neither Joe or I felt accosted or anything like that. In some ways, one can see how practical this commerce system is. I think of it as their version of the drive-thru. I wonder though, if the practicality goes both ways. For the driver, it is a very convenient system, but is that true for the seller, stuck outside in the rain and trying to get interest in their sliced fruit? I don’t know.

Our cab driver took us to the Pink Hostel in a different neighborhood in Accra. Again, the lack of familiar addresses made it difficult to ask to go somewhere, but our driver got us their quickly and with ease. Joe and I were the first to arrive at the meeting spot. The small mini-van was waiting, but none of the participants, nor the head of the Globe Aware program in Ghana, Richard, were there. We were told Richard had gone to pick up some of the participants and was on his way back.

The quiet, serene street was in opposition to my mounting excitement. I wanted to be on our way. I wanted to see the Volta region – where we were staying, who we’d be working with, what we’d be doing. Not long after we’d arrived, a cab pulled up and out came a man with a backpack. This was Scott. Not on the original list of participants, Scott, in a constant state of wanderlust, had decided to come at the last minute. In just a few minutes of conversation, I discovered that he’d been to many, many places in the world for work and for recreation. I was immediately envious. What would life be like spending 6 months here, 6 months there? Nervously, I told Scott the project that I was embarking on. Quickly he agreed to be a part of it and said he didn’t mind being filmed. Whew! One down!

A short while after Scott arrived, another cab pulled up and out came Richard – greeting Joe and I with a warm hug and kind eyes. Also exiting the cab were Jodee, Wayne and their son, Wyatt. A family filled with energy and wrapped in bug-sprayed bandannas, they loquaciously described the problems they encountered in getting to Accra. How they were stuck in Nigeria for a time, how Wyatt had gotten sick on the journey and how they didn’t know if they were going to get to the meeting place on time. Joe and I then explained our project and all 3 seemed excited by the prospect.

Richard interrupted our conversation to explain that we were still waiting for two more participants – a writer, George, and his son Eamon. George was delayed at a jewlers, so Richard said it would be easier to pick him up there.

We packed the van and then crowded in. Joe and I sat in the back and observed everyone else. A short drive later, we arrived at the meeting place to pick George and his son up. With two more in tow, we smushed into the now, very tightly packed van and began our journey to the Volta Region.

I had to steal myself thinking about how amazing it was that this was happening. Joe and I had our press passes, Richard had had a long talk with a representative at the Ministry of Information’s Office and cleared our trip and all but George and Eamon had agreed to be on film.

I was in Africa. I was in Ghana. This was happening.

Best Laid Plans (Part 5)

Embassies?  Consulates? Press Pass? Whaaa??

I am a narrative girl.  I make up stories.  I say... lets pretend that so-and-so meets so-and-so in a coffee shop and then...  Or, let's make believe that some girl meets some guy in the park and then...

I can for sure say that I've never uttered the words, "Can I document my travels as I traipse around Accra to sightsee, and then make my way to Ho to interview people and volunteer?" Nor have I ever asked my doctor if she wouldn't mind if I film myself getting a shot (and oh please god, let them not put me in the paper apron that opens in the front, while they administer my yellow fever vaccination and capture it for eternity on tape).  That is all very real.  Sure, I was never the type of writer that told far fetched stories.  You'd never catch me spinning a tale about a girl meeting a guy in the park, falling in love, and then combining forces to combat rockets shooting out some secret government bacteria.  My story would most likely entail my girl and my guy falling in love and then dealing with, oh, I don't know, relationship issues.  So, unless those rockets came with a surprise pregnancy, or a cheating boyfriend/girlfriend, it's not really a story I'm likely to tell.

I should say however, that just because my scripts are usually grounded in reality it does not mean that they are real, so now, my days of documenting the actual is throwing me off a bit.  My days consist of Joe's voice humming in the background saying things like: 'Julie's freaking out about plane tickets - let's get this on film!' Or 'Julie's freaking out about getting the press pass - let's get this on film!' 'Julie's freaking out - who cares about what! For godsakes get the freaking camera!'

It's all becoming real in a way that I never considered before: the budget, the plane tickets, the program, the interviews, the shots... yellow fever, hepatitis, malaria pills, tetanus, cipro for extreme diarrhea, an epi pen for my shellfish allergy... oh my... and while I've had many of these shots from previous trips or from swimming in the Hudson River (don't ask), hearing the list once again is, well, not a small thing.

Recently, I told my mother that I've been having anxiety dreams about forgetting to take care of something before Joe and I leave.  For example, my dream would have me forgetting something like the malaria pills only to then look down at my leg and see a smiling mosquito eating my ankle for lunch.  To this, my wise mother asked, "Then why are you doing this?"  I thought to myself, can I answer that it's because I'm getting a divorce?  Is that a legitimate response?  Should I even care if it's not?

From the stories I've heard, when relationships breakdown, most turn to the bottle, maybe have a lot of sex, refuse to leave the house, or bury their head into a huge tub of ice cream.  I don't know that I've heard the old tale of the person making their way to Africa.  Yet, I think the thought behind it is the same, and certainly I am not any different from anyone else.  You see, while I find myself having an anxiety dream about some Ghanian prison, I find that I'm not having a dream about my husband walking out again.  The rotation of ideas and thoughts and reasons for his leaving play less often in my head and is slowly being replaced by the trip.  I'd be lying if I said that I planned it this way, because I absolutely didn't.  I hoped for a distraction sure, but I never imagined how much this trip would consume me. And it's consumption in the best way possible.  Now I'm certainly not negating the building blocks of the drunken stupor, or the night of random sex, or the various flavors of a well-churned ice cream - it's just that that wouldn't do it for me.  I needed something more lasting, I guess.  I needed something that would match the pace of my racing mind.  

And I have to tell you... I think I've found it.