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My POV
by Brian A. Wilson
Hollywood Lessons from the Garden
For the writer, Life is an endless parade of intriguing metaphors. That's why I'm constantly bumping into Hollywood, quite literally, in my own back yard.
Perhaps you've noticed similar manifestations in your neighborhood.
THE SPIDER. While watering the roses yesterday, I spotted a massive, juicy black widow spider making its home under my electrical panel. Normally, I'm a live-and-let-live kind of guy when it comes to critters. However, I could envision my wife picking roses, the spider diving into her gardening glove, and the resultant chaos. The spider had to go. I jabbed it with a Phillips screwdriver, right through its red hourglass. The now-abdomen-less spider dropped on the ground. What did it do, in certain agony and, if ever the phrase were appropriate, on its last legs? It came right at me. Me, probably three thousand times its size. Me, who had just dealt it a death blow. It charges me. Naturally, I put the spider out of its misery with a well-placed shoe. But the lesson stuck with me. That spider showed obsessive, undeniable, courageous determination. It wasn't worrying about tomorrow. It wasn't thinking about sprucing up its web or hangin' with other spiders or worrying if it might rain. It was going to kick my butt, or die trying. Imagine if you had that attitude about Hollywood, to that degree. Imagine, dragging yourself after Stacey Snider at Universal, your lower torso ripped away from the struggle, still proffering your script. Hell, that's not a metaphor, it's a Hollywood documentary!
MINT. My wife and I went to the Women in Film Crystal Awards last year. The centerpiece of the table was made up of herbs in small pots. A nice touch, each herb was a take-home gift for attendees. I took a cute little mint plant. I planted it. That innocent-looking mint plant now owns my garden. I gave this Trojan horse herb a chance, and it went wild. The mint has invaded the roses, it's running over the cilantro, it's even popping up in the lawn, six feet from where I planted it. The mint found fertile soil, it was ready and it's making the most of its opportunity. I'm impressed.
WEEDS. Every day, I pull weeds. Every day, I think, "Well, that's about it for weeds in THIS area of the garden." Every day, I return and find...more weeds. They're out there right now, going to seed, sprouting, spreading. Astonishingly persistent. Rejection means nothing to them. Rip out 99% of the plant, what's left will make a new plant. If they get driven out of one area, they find another as suitable and set up shop there. They won't be denied. They outnumber me, and they know it. I spray, I dig, I claw with my bare hands. They just keep coming at me. I think this must be how producers feel, every time another load of scripts come in the mail.
BUTTERFLY BUSH. Last year, I planted a butterfly bush. I overplanted a patch of wildflowers beside it. The wildflowers prospered, the butterfly bush just sat there. Until this year. The wildflowers are gone, the butterfly bush has broken into the open field and it's running wild. This spring, it has gone from about a foot tall to over seven feet tall. Last year, the competition was fierce, resources were scarce, growth nigh impossible. But the little butterfly bush that could hung in there, waited for the competition to drop away, and when the chance came, it blossomed. I keep thinking about trimming it, whacking it down from seven feet to something manageable. Somehow, I just can't do it. I'm too busy admiring its persistence, timing and obsession with sharing its beauty with the world.
Here's hoping you find inspiration, right in your own back yard.
Keep writing,
BW |
