SEVEN pages down today. SEVEN! Two more than my typical daily goal on a first draft.

Whew! Now I feel better.

And what’s best is I like ’em. Things went in a little different direction than I thought they would. But I think I finally cracked the stubborn nut that is the second movement of the second act. Turns out that what I thought was the second movement is really the third one.

It always felt odd. Even when I was mapping out scenes. Like there was neither enough action, nor was there sufficient conflict to get me into the particular movement in the story.

Now, though… Now I think I’m on to something. We’ll see.

Considering the last 2-3 weeks of my screenwriting life, though. I am ecsatatic. I think I might even have a chance to finish this sumbitch in a reasonable length of time now.

Yay Bill!

(Well, more “Yay!” when I really get the thing done. But little “yay” today for getting back on the horse–no pun intended)

It occurs to me that in order to TRUE-ly honor and obey the creator (no…not God. No…not James T. Kirk. The Wheaton!), in order to emulate him, as we all (those of us in the blogshpere, at least) should, I should, from time to time, post some commentary about the screewriting craft and about my (mis)adventures in the screen trade. I should also try to, eek, out, a, few, more, commas, in my, senten,ces. Ah..! , , , , , There…

Now, some of you out there might be tempted to make some smart-assed comment like Hey! Bill’s recycling content in the form of a posting he made on a message board on another site. To these few, I would say, with all due respect, “Shut up!”

Seriously, I got done posting it and thought, Wow, it ain’t pretty, but it pretty much sums up where I am at right now with respect to my craft. WWWD? (“What Would Wil Do?)

Obvious. He’d post the thing. F*ck yeah!

Wil Wheaton sez*: Bill’s da bomb! His commentary on the film industry is profound, inspiring, and sexy!

Did he say “sexy”? Wheaton, you’re a married man. And I like chicks. Get a grip, man!

———-

On May 16, Daniel Calvisi asked:

Bill,
congrats!

So, to throw out a question just in case you have a minute to discuss craft:

What’s one or two key things you learned from seeing your script produced that you know will strengthen your future writing?

thanks.

During my recent hermit phase, I’ve had a lot of time to contemplate this question. I wanted to come up with something big and earth shattering. Mostly, though, my head was still so cloudy, and the mere thought of putting something down on “paper” churned my stomach. And though I’ve longed to plug back into the collective, all I could do (as I’ve done in many other compartments of my life in recent months) is to keep my damned plug to myself for awhile…get my self back.

Anyway…that’s not the important thing. What IS important is Daniel’s very good question, and I aim to FINALLY answer it. ‘Cause I realized that, though answering it “big and earth shattering” is fallacy, I have landed on something recently that may be of worth. …And I am interested in the opinions of others like Robert and Mark, et al., who’ve had–if not their BIG break–they’re first break (because there’s a difference).

So…what I learned, Daniel, is this: I learned that my life is not much different than it was before. I learned that it’s still hard–not just businesswise, but creativewise.

For years, in spite of honestly knowing better, I allowed myself to believe that my movie career would parallel that of Kermit and Fozzy. I’d show in in Orson Wells’s office, he’d see my obvious talent, and I’d put my John Hancock on the “Standard Rich and Famous Contract”. After that, there’d be a big musical number. We’d dance around and sing, and suddenly I’d be brilliant forevermore. And this whole writing thing would come a lot easier.

If anything, I find the opposite is true. Post-RUNAWAY, I find writing is harder. I find I must be far more diligent about it because there are more distractions than ever to keep me away from writing.

And the most insidious distraction to date? Worrying about my so-called “screenwriting career.” Worrying about getting an agent. Worrying about what am I going to sell next…not WRITE next, sell. And having that override what, in my heart-of-hearts, I know I SHOULD be writing.

Okay…now I am NOT trying to sound all whiny. AND I am thankful and FULLY aware how fortunate I am to have made it this far. My point is, however, that at least for me, my screenwriting career so far resembles that of Gonzo the Great (“We’re going to Bombay, India to make it big in the movies!” “You don’t go to Bombay, India to make it big in the movies. You go where we’re going…Hollywood!” “Sure…if you want to do it the EASY way.”) than Kermit and Fozzy. And I think most writing careers–most MOVIE careers–are like that.

It’s not movies, but I remember watching Shelby Lynne win her Grammy for best new artist a few years back. She mused about being an “overnight success” tem years in the making. I think that’s the way it works. And at this point–where I am right now–you’re still slugging away in AA or AAA ball. And you need to keep doing that every day because slugging away every day is what a career–not just a break–is made of.

That first sale doesn’t represent the end of the continuum. It represents the beginning. And once you truly begin, it requires a much greater investment in terms of patience and discipline than ever before. Because people ARE taking your calls, people ARE interested in you, but they’re not quite ready to sign on the dotted line just yet. And it’s then you realize that you need to KEEP dazzling people. But how?

Well, that’s the trick, isn’t it? Because the answer is, “with YOU.” You need to figure out how to bracket the business of screenwriting with that creative space–the artist in you. Because THAT’S what people are interested in…the product of your creative wanking and your ability to put it together in some cohesive manner as a result of your mastery of this screenwriting craft.

And you better figure out how to balance those two. And you REALLY better figure out how to protect your creative time and space.

And you better just keep the hell writing.

So…Daniel. Here’s what I’ve learned. I’ve learned that my first break isn’t my BIG break. That’s still (cross your fingers) coming. And on the business side, I gotta keep writing and I gotta keep wowing folks because, though they’re intrigued, they’re not ready to back the truck up to my bank yet.

I’ve learned that, as much fun as it is to be a produced screenwriter with a well-received movie, it doesn’t get that next screenplay written. AND neither does worrying about the next phase in my so-called career. Every time I do that, the ideas that fly out of my mouth are absolute shit. Pablum.

So…what I need to do is stop worrying about it. I need, just like I did when it all began, to put all that aside and just let myself flow. And then I need to write. Every day.

There’s plenty of time for hustle later.

The magic is there’s no magic. I still get up every day. I still need to get my kids off to school. I still fret about money. I still struggle to get my dishes done. And I still need to write like I always did.

THAT is what strengthens my writing. That and now that I’ve seen a movie made outta my own script, I see how to better structure the thing in a more “cinematic” sense. But I can’t write a lot about that ’cause it’s something you just get when you see it happen.

All that said…yes! It will be kick ass to be in Toronto with my movie, thankyouverymuch.

———
*Okay…Wheaton didn’t really say this. It’s all in fun, Wil. It’s all those damned monkeys tapping. Please don’t sue me.

I can’t tell you what the hell I did to mess up comments on this stupid blog. Going through the redesign was like feeling my way blindly through Tiffany’s. Oh! There’s a-

CRASH!!!

Oops… Guess not.

I don’t know what the hell to do. TypePad’s user manual says (and I quote):

So that’s it. Apparently, I no longer have a weblog. I’m paying for one. I’m also paying for the luxury of that slick domain handle, billtrue.net, but I don’t have a weblog. I screwed up. I screwed myself. TRUE LIFE, it seems, is no longer worth living. Good-bye, cruel cyberworld.

All that jabbering aside, I must apologize to one and all (or “both of you”, as it were) for the lack of comment ability here. It’s a tough nut, and I just can’t crack it. Then again, I never was the brightest bulb on the tree when it came to crap like this. Or much of any crap, for that matter. Or for crapping, now that I think of it. But that’s another matter. Maybe I’ll blog on it sometime.

Oh, wait. I no longer HAVE a blog. And who wants to read about my crapping. Never mind.

I must now seek professional help. No…not that kind, though some people might agree with you. Okay…most people. But I need to get some real techno-geek (as opposed to the faux techno-geek that is me) crankin’ around inside of there to see what’s up.

As usual, I am certain it’s something small. Jes’ gotta turn the screw a quarter-turn, righ’ der. Ye see? And then…Hummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Like hot snot off a butter knife.

We’ll see what happens. Meanwhile, I hope you are posting your TRUE LIFE comments on other weblogs, like we suggested. It’ll keep those other assholes who, I suppose one could say, still have “real” weblogs on their toes.

Go ahead. Click over to whilwheaton.net, for example, and do it. See what he says.

No? Geeze. Chicken.

Meanwhile, while you’re being wussies, I will keep prattling on this…well, I can’t call it a weblog, now can I? This…non-interactive piece of shit that used to be a blog and now’s just some stupid old regular website that ain’t good for nothing without my precious my comments ohhhhh they make it sooooo special ’cause the dumbheads at TypePad says so and everyone believes everthing they say because you know they’re TypePad and they know everything.

What? I’m not bitter. Be quiet. Did I ask for your comments?

Oh yeah…I guess I did.

A few months ago, Lynn asked me to post something on her behalf in my weblog. At that time, I told her sure. I wasn’t certain, however, why she didn’t post it on her CaringBridge site. I guess because it was political in nature–her rant, she called it. She probably wanted to keep the peaceful vibe flowing in that particular area of cyberspace.

A week after she mentioned it to me, she recanted. I never got a reason why. ‘Cause I thought it was great.

I was sifting through some of her files on the iMac, though, and I found it again. I loved it even more the second time I read it.

So, here it is, folks. My Lynnie, talking to you from the heart, sharing her wish for blessings and peace all the way from the great beyond. Enjoy…

—–

Hi! Lynn here! I’ve wrestled Bill to the ground, tied him up (no! there’s nothing kinky going on here), and stolen his keyboard. Yup. I’ve hijacked his blog and I’m on my soap box. BEWARE! My passions have been unleashed and I have something to get off my chest.

Okay, first I have to start with a few confessions. Here they are:

1. I am a Christian.
I believe in Jesus Christ, I believe he was conceived of a virgin, I believe he healed people, I believe he died on the cross, and I believe he was the Son of God. The whole schmeer.

2. I am a liberal.
And getting more obnoxiously liberal every day. I believe in gun control, I believe in a woman’s right to choose an abortion. I believe we should be protecting this Earth and it’s inhabitants who can’t speak for themselves in every way we can. Heck, I even believe in Gay marriage (more on that later).

3. I am a moral person.
I have a clear understanding of right and wrong. I lead a pretty clean life. I’m a person that believes in love and helping others and I work to do my very best to act on that belief.

So here’s my question:

SINCE WHEN DID THE REPUBLICANS CORNER THE MARKET ON BEING MORAL?

I have visited yet another website where the choice for President Bush was stated as being the “moral choice.”

Confession #4: I voted for John Kerry and I see it as being a VERY moral choice.

So if the Republicans are so moral, can someone answer me a few questions?

1. What is so moral about Capital Punishment? A typical Republican stand and a stand taken by George W. The Ten Commandments say “Thou shalt not kill.” Period. It DOES NOT say “Thou shalt not kill unless a jury of the killer’s peers finds without a reasonable doubt that s/he is guilty.”

2. What is so moral about supporting the NRA? What is so moral about making certain that guns are as accessible as possible to our children so they can shoot one another? So if the Bible is the sole handbook on morals, where in the Bible did Christ say anything about the right to bear arms?

3. What is so moral about the war in Iraq? What is so moral about sending our bravest young men and women to kill and to be killed primarily on the basis that there were some supposed weapons of mass destruction that never materialized? Oh, and by the way, it was Osama Bin Laden that attacked us. Where’s he? And, I’m kind of guessing here, but I have the distinct impression that the people who are responsible for the 911 attacks think we are all immoral. Not just the gays and those who get abortions, etc. But YOU, the woman wearing pants. And YOU the man who allows her to do it. Remember the adorable dress you bought for your cousin’s wedding? The one that’s so modest with the hemline above the ankles, the crew neck and is not form fitting in any way? IMMORAL. Do you really want to start pointing fingers at what is moral and what is not? Just like they do? Just asking.

4. What is so moral about forcing a young pregnant woman to carry out a pregnancy and birth that might kill her? What is so moral about forcing the victim of a rape to carry on with the resulting pregnancy? Where in the Bible does Christ talk about abortion? I don’t know about you, but I believe that life begins when God grants a soul to the body. When does that happen? And last time I checked, my God was a God of free will—he gave us the ability to make choices for a reason. I believe that abortion is a deeply personal and excruciatingly difficult choice. And IF it is a sin against God, I figure that’s between God and the woman who chooses an abortion. It’s none of my business.

5. And on the subject of Gay marriage: Okay, here we have 2 people who wish to make a loving committed relationship to one another. Don’t you see some beauty in that? What? You would rather they sleep around with as many people as possible? Why can’t we just be happy that they have found love in their lives? And again, IF homosexuality is a sin against God, that’s up to God to make that judgment, not us humans. So for those of you who are pointing your finger at the gay community and screaming “sin,” you might want to think about using that finger to pull the plank out of your own eye. Just a suggestion mind you.

Just one more question: Do you believe abortion and homosexuality are a sin against God and therefore “wrong” because the church tells you they’re wrong? Because they point to scripture as evidence?

I’d like to remind you of one thing. A little over a hundred years ago the church used to teach that slavery was a mandate from God. They used scripture to justify slavery. Less than a hundred years ago, churches in the south taught that blacks were inferior to whites–all based on scripture. Many churches used to teach that rock music was evil and now use it in their own churches. Let’s face it folks, sometimes the Church is out and out WRONG! And that’s coming from a church going woman. I love my church dearly—they are my family. They are incredibly giving and loving people. But the day I give up my ability to question and challenge church leadership and teachings is the day I give up my God given ability to change the world to a more loving, sharing, caring, inclusive place that rejoices over our differences.

You know, I have a feeling that our enemies would LOVE for us to argue amongst ourselves and throw blame at each other—a house divided cannot stand. They would love for our house to fall. But when we are united in LOVE and RESPECT for one another and each other’s CHOICES, whether or not we would make those choices for ourselves, that’s when we are at our strongest and most moral place.

So, I’ve said my piece. Now here’s the disclaimer: This is just my opinion. And who am I? What do I know? Take it or leave it. I am certainly NOT the expert on morals. I just felt it was time I exercise my right to free speech and ask some questions. It’s the American way.

Wow. Thanks. I feel much better now.

——

These words seem even more poignant and pertinent today, as some (in my mind) very misguided individuals seek to unnecessarily prolong a young Florida woman’s suffering against her will. And all in the name of “morality” and “faith”.

As someone who has recently been in the position to make some very difficult decisions that could have had an impact on the amount of additional time my wife would spend on this earth. As someone who had the conversations that Terry and Michael apparently had. As someone who was forced to interpret, to the best of his ability, the wishes of the person who was not only the love of his life, but his legally wed spouse, her ultimate wishes in the face of uncertainty. I get it. Why don’t other folks?

It’s not a political issue. It’s not a faith or a church issue. It’s not right versus left. It’s not moral versus immoral. It’s not “pro-life” versus “pro-choice”.

It’s a man trying to fulfill the final wishes of his wife. And for those who still want to bring “faith” into it, I’ve been desperately trying to find the Bible verse, but I can’t. It is, however, the one that refers to a woman leaving her parents to live in her husband’s house. For those people who are trying to cling to some notion that the answer to this question can be found in that man-made contraption we call religion, doesn’t that say it all? Forget about any other argument. Mrs. Shiavo left her parents’ house. She became a family with her husband. Cut and dried. And within the sanctity that is the union that God supposedly commands us that “no man should put usunder,” they made a decision.

And no one–not the President, not Congress, not the courts, not even her parents have the right to intervene. I mean, I feel for her mom and dad. I really do–I just watched my wife’s mom lose her baby girl. I can’t fathom the pain, I can only empathize. But I can’t agree with their position.

And as far as our President goes, I believe he has enough on his plate (after all, it’s “hard” to be President, right?) without heaping one more unnecessary sidedish on the pile. And besides, considering his sketchy history, isn’t it a bit disingenous for him to be staking any moral high ground with respect to his comments that he would “err on the side of life?” Tell that to the thousands of people who have given their lives in the name of your selfish and insane personal crusade. Doesn’t the old saying go, “people in glass houses…”?

And, oh yeah…don’t we live in the age of the healthcare directive, which gives folks the option to live and die how they see fit–INCLUDING the right do say no to forced feedings if they can no longer care for themselves? Okay. Maybe Terry didn’t have a documented directive. The bottom line, though, is that we live in a world where we have evolved enough to recognize (and be receptive to the notion) that a person has the right to make that kind of choice for himself or herself, without the government or anyone else meddling in that person’s personal business. And, it goes without saying that I believe the person who is appropriately privvy and proxy when it comes to executing that person’s wishes is that person’s spouse. CERTAINLY not that person’s parents.

But enough of that. I also know that–just as the Bible talks about he seasons of change–there is a time to let go. Now is not the time to divide. Now is the time to come together. Now is the time to accept. Now is the time to heal. Now is the time to celebrate Terry’s life and let her go out in style.

Please don’t let her legacy be a bitter and divisive one. For that does her the worst kind of injustice. Therein is the real cruelty against her. And that, my friends, is, in my book, TRUE-ly immoral.

God bless my wife. Thank you, sweetie, for finally unleashing my inner rant. Love ya.

Cool thing is that Lynn got to know this before she left us.

You’da never guessed she was even sick when I told her about Tribeca. She launched out of her chair and threw her arms around me.

“I’m so proud of you, sweetie! That’s wonderful! It’s all coming together!”

She just beamed. For a moment, she was light as a feather.

And that paled by comparison to when, upon the conclusion of this year’s Oscars telecast, I got to tell her the producers, Al and David, are dedicating the movie to her.

Way cool…

Here’s the problem. I sit here, and my head’s a jumble of things I want to say. When it gets right down to it, though, when I try to make my fingers move, suddenly all the words scatter to the winds.

I guess what I can say is this: we’re back.

I’ve told several people over the past few days, I haven’t made many great decisions in my life. Deciding to take my kids on a little vacation to Orlando, Florida a couple of days after their mom’s funeral, however, was definitely one of them. The sun and the water and the anonymity—spiced with liberal amounts of Mickey Mouse and a dash of Universal Studios—was just what the doctor ordered.

Of course, like all things that end well, it didn’t start out that way.

When we landed in Orlando, it was anything but paradise. 45 degrees—a scant five degrees warmer than Minnesota the day before we left! And then there was the rain.

Beat, beat, beat went the windshield wipers as we groped our way through the town, searching for our resort. The map, courtesy of the rental car company, left much to be desired. Or perhaps it was just the town. In the end, we were never quite sure why (and quite surprised that) both the roads and the maps of the Orlando area sucked as badly as they did.

Finally, as I took a swipe at the fog on the glass in front of me (one of those odd times when you needed the blower going to keep the fog off the windshield, but it consequently made things ungodly hot in the car, so you decide the fog is the lesser of two evils), I caught a glimpse of the resort entrance.

Uh…this doesn’t quite seem right, I thought.

Here we were, smack dab in the middle of the town of Kissimmee, which I can only (and charitably) describe as the armpit of the Orlando area. The traffic was fast and rowdy. Most owners of the nearby structures all seemed to be vying for some prize in the “who can have the most paint peeling off the sides of my building” contest. Yet, here it was—the resort that Travelocity assured me was going to provide my family the comfort and rest we so desperately needed and deserved.

I looked at Syd and Zach. They were trying to put a brave face on, but I could tell. Nothing about this time so far in Orlando was what they were hoping for. And though I tried to cheer them up by cracking silly jokes about the town and the rain and the gray gloom that engulfed us, I thought, who the hell could blame them for being disappointed? Crap, I was just proud of them that they were trying their best to keep a stiff upper lip about the whole mess.

Well, the gate, at least, didn’t look completely uninviting. So, I flipped on my turn signal, avoided an accident with some low-rider that decided to cut in front of me, and headed in.

The kids waited in the car while I went inside (nice enough place, I thought as I glanced around the lobby) to see about our room. It was about 1:30 in the afternoon.

“Sorry, Mr. True,” the girl at the front desk told me. “Your check in isn’t until four P.M. I can get you checked in, but your room isn’t, like, ready yet.”

Next thing I know, I launched myself over the counter and throttled her. Another reception girl and the desk manager tried to pull me off, tried to pry my cold, steel fingers off the girl’s throat, but—

Psych! Just kidding.

That’s merely what I WANTED to do at the moment. What I really did was…

I took a deep breath.

“Oh. Huh. Well, I guess we have a little time to burn then.”

“Uh…yeah,” she came back with. “If you give me your cell number, though, I can call you as soon as your room is ready. Would that work?”

Now I was sorry I ever wanted to kill her. Suddenly, I wanted to lean over and kiss her. The first positive sign since we’d arrived in the state.

“That would be terrific,” I told her as I jotted my number on a pad.

I gave the kids my little “good news, bad news” spiel upon returning to the car. By now, though, nothing could faze them. They simply nodded, their eyes blank and tired. We decided to kill time by having a nice sit-down lunch and making a stop at Le Target Boutique for a few provisions. And so we were off again.

“Well, look at it this way,” I said as we haltingly made our way down the street. “At least no one knows who we are here. Not a single soul here wants to give us a hug, and absolutely no one wants to tell us how sorry they are for our loss.”

Suddenly, a collective sigh of relief.

Then, in unison from both kids: “No kidding!”

“If I had to get a hug from one more person, I was going to go ballistic,” I said.

Sydney started to laugh. “Oh, my god! Me, too.”

“I mean, I appreciated people’s love and concern…a lot!”

“Yeah,” agreed Sydney.

“It gets to be too much,” Zach chimed in.

“Yeah,” Sydney agreed again.

And then, all of a sudden, it dawned on me. I looked in the rearview mirror, making eye contact with Zach.

“It’s like we were in the ZOMBIES!!! game.”

He thought about it for a second or two. Then he smiled wide. He got the joke.

“Oh, my gosh! Yeah. Except instead of trying to get to the helicopter pad, we were trying to get to the airport!”

“Yeah! But surrounding us, blocking our way to the plane..!”

“FUNERAL ZOMBIES!” Zach cried.

I extended my arms our in front of me, steering with my elbows. My eyes went dead. I summoned my best zombie voice.

“Condooooooooolencesssssss..!

The kids laughed. Real laughter. Finally.

Sydney stretched out her arms and chimed in, “Sympatheeeeeeeeeeeeeeee..!”

And we all busted a gut. That is until I almost got us in a wreck with some grandpa in a Town Car. The spirit in the car, however, would not be dampened. We laughed all the way to Red Lobster.

—
I didn’t catch the call from the girl at the resort, but we decided to beat it back there around three o’clock just in case our room was ready.

When we arrived back at the place, and were pleasantly surprised. The place didn’t look half bad. The good vibe from the car ride and the lunch continued. And when we returned to the office, it was all “I just called you, Mr. True! Glad you got the message.”

She was so proud of herself, I didn’t have the heart to tell her I hadn’t gotten it (nor did I know yet I even HAD it).

“Thanks,” I said, still feeling bad I once wanted to choke the life outta her.

That feeling changed slightly, though, when she sent me over this other chick who was supposed to “orient me” with respect to facilities.

Her K-Mart business suit and permanent “fuck me” curls told me everything I needed to know about her. All she was missing was the chewing gum. Someone in management must have given her crap about that, so she kept it under her desktop for safe keeping till she went home every night.

For, though her supposed function was to “orient” me, what she really wanted to do was to sell me a timeshare. So, that’s what the catch was, eh? Lure you in with a decent price on a week’s rental, and then wham! Suddenly, you’re caught in their snare.

I trudged over to her desk. For me, at least, the mood was definitely broken. I braced myself.

I sat down, and it was all pleasantries and B.S. Immediately, she wanted to know what attractions we planned to visit because “if we attended a complimentary breakfast about vacation ownership, we could be eligible for a number of valuable discounts” and yada, yada, yada…

“Uh…I don’t know. We were kind of just going to…wing it.”

She stared at me like I was from Uranus. She opened up a file cabinet and started grabbing out papers. She was nonchalant, on autopilot.

“So…” she said, barely looking up to acknowledge the kids. “Where’s Mom?”

I stopped cold in my tracks. My eyes…I can’t imagine what she must have thought when, after hearing no response, she looked up and saw my eyes. Like saucers, I’m sure.

I faltered. I struggled, utterly shocked, with what to say.

I mean, I wasn’t offended. It was, simply, the last question I expected her to ask. And the whole allure of the place for us was that NO ONE knew what was going on! God, I asked in a silent prayer, please don’t let the condolence zombies invade this place. Please keep them away…for my kids. For me.

Ultimately, I decided that the best course of action was to tell her the truth. Heck, if anything, it would teach her to not ask stupid questions when a guy and his kids show up alone in their lobby (for all she knew, I had just gotten over a bitter divorce or something! How would I react then? In Syd’s words, it would be all, “What now?!?” Pull you head out of your ass, deary).

“Ummm…” started, trying to maintain an even tone. “She…died last week.”

Now it was her turn to do the eyes thing. To say she got it like a ton of bricks falling on her head is an understatement. To say she was suddenly falling all over herself in apology is an understatement. To say she learned her lesson, I also hope, is an understatement.

“I…uh… I am sooooo sorry. I-“

Now I felt bad for feeling ill will toward her. Her eyes welled up. She was—perhaps for the first time ever on this job—fully present and in the moment. We were beyond the cheap suit and the curls and the sales pitch. Suddenly, we were just two people trying to get through the moment with a shred of dignity.

And I felt her pain.

“It’s okay,” I said in an assuring voice. Then I lied…for her sake. “It was a reasonable question.”

She let out a big breath and went limp, deflated.

“I guess I’ll…be more careful about…”

I just smiled.

Then she looked at my kids. Really looked, for the first time.

“You’re children…how old?”

“Sixteen and eleven.”

“How are they doing?”

“Everyone’s doing well. The funeral was Monday. And this is our healing time.”

She nodded. “Absolutely.”

And then she surprised me. Here was this…cardboard cutout of a person. But she looked at me again, and that was gone. Now she was a fathomless sea of feeling and empathy. Stripped of her artifice (and my reaction to it), she was an open book. I could read her past. I could see her soul. And I liked her immediately.

“Your children are beautiful,” she said to me. Plain and simple, no artificial flavors or colors.

I smiled. Plain and simple.

“Thanks.”

Then I winked at her.

“And we’re not here to forget about her, but we’d like to not draw attention to it, either. We’re here to have fun. Can you help us with that?”

She got back to business. Yet, now it was anything but business as usual.

“You bet I can.”

—

The rain, of course, wouldn’t let up for the rest of the day. We got in our room, loaded up with brochures and coupons from our friend in the lobby. It was pretty nice, we thought. And if the rest of the joint was as nice as the room (it was impossible to judge in the downpour), we’d be just fine.

That night, we baked up a couple of pizzas, popped popcorn, and re-enacted our miraculous escape care of the ZOMBIES!!! game I’d packed. Predictably, Zach got to the helicopter first, while Syd and I were wandering around the town trying to even FIND zombies to slay.

And though there were laughs, we all felt it. Like a crater, an unnatural void chunked out of the earth. No…like one of your limbs amputated, but you can still feel it. Phantom feeling, I believe they call it.

Something was missing. There was supposed to be another piece—a fourth—on the board. And another cup, and another hand in the popcorn bowl. And there was supposed to be more laughter, courtesy of our Lynnie’s amazing hee-haw guffaw.

But what else could we do, but keep heading for the helicopter, right? Get out of town, and get on with the next chapter. And live our lives.

It’s all we could do. And it’s what she wanted. To do anything else, we all knew, was to dishonor her memory and to disrespect ourselves.

So…as the game progressed, we began to fill in the awkward silences where Lynn’s dialogue was once inserted. A few times we even gave them voice in her honor. Or we improvised, trying to write some new lines for ourselves. After awhile, it got a little easier.

—

When it was finally time to go to bed, the kids lay down without event. In five minutes, Zach was sawing logs like a champ.

I dreaded climbing into bed alone. Again, though, I told myself, what else can I do?

“It is what it is,” Lynn said to me, though it was my voice in the room. I smiled a little, and somewhere, with my mind’s eye, I saw her smile back, encouraging, loving.

And so I got under the covers.

As I lay there staring at the ceiling, Sydney padded into the room and slipped in beside me.

“What’s up, kiddo?” I whispered, removing my headphones and turning off my iPod.

My baby girl cuddled up against me, holding on for dear life.

“I was doing…okay, I guess. And lunch and the game were both fun. But…”

“It’s not the same, is it?”

She held on even tighter.

“I really miss her.”

Now it was my turn to hold on. Brace myself, really, because it wouldn’t do for me to completely break down at this particular moment. I blinked away tears and coughed, masking the sob that had caught in my throat.

“I know. I do, too.”

“And with this rain,” she continued. “And the cold, and everything. It’s kind of…depressing, you know? And I was just laying there in my bed and missing Mom, and wondering whether this whole vacation thing was a good idea after all.”

Silence. What could I do but agree?

Finally, I said, “Tell you what. Let’s see how tomorrow goes. It it’s still raining and yucky, we’ll see how we feel. If it’s not looking good, we can always either head home…or—we have this car—we can head somewhere else. Maybe Miami…or the Keys.”

“Really?”

“You bet. This is our time, kiddo,” I told her, not really knowing how I was going to pay for a week in Miami or the Keys, but meaning every word of it. “We get to do whatever we want to do. Whatever helps the healing.”

She relaxed. Then she hugged me again.

“Thanks, Daddy.”

“But…make a deal?”

“Yeah?”

“If we wake up tomorrow and it’s nice and sunny, we take that as a sign. It’s a message from Mamma that we made the right decision, and she wants us to have a blast here.”

She didn’t miss a beat.

“Deal.”

I squeezed her back.

“Okay. Now let’s get some shut-eye.”

And that’s how we fell asleep.

—

We awoke the next morning to sunshine streaming through the blinds. We threw open the curtains and bid salutations to the best, most perfect and cloudless day we three had ever met.

Thus began Book Two of the True Family Chronicles.

———-

If you’re still reading, thanks for bearing with me. Hell, if I get this longwinded when I DON’T know what to write..!

Anyway, I want to say thank you to everyone who made this trip possible. You know who you are. We love you.

1963 – 2005

Please celebrate with us. Our angel has flown to Heaven.

We love you, sweetie. We’ll miss you.

We’ll see you again someday.
We’ve been home for a couple of hours now. What can I say?

Lynn’s passing was just like her: beautiful, celebratory, classy. It may seem strange, but upon reflection, I can honestly say I had fun. Yes, there were plenty of tears. Not as many, though, as one would expect. Instead, the day was filled with plenty of laughter and awesome stories and reflections about my girl. It was loud and boisterous and touching and poignant.

And I think she enjoyed it. My husband Spidey sense was going off big time, and I could tell that, even though she really couldn’t respond, she was having a good time. Then, about 8:00-ish, when she was ready to quiet down, she let me know that, too. And so…we quieted down.

And we snuggled a little. And we talked. And then around midnight, I had to catch at least a little shut-eye. Her mom and her sister were resting, sleeping with their heads on Lynn’s hospital bed, and I went out into the waiting room to lie down. And about an hour later, our sweet angel gently slipped out the door and hitched a ride on a moonbeam. So like her.

We’re doing okay. The kids are well–in a good space. They got a chance to say good-bye to Mom, and Mom to them. And I got a chance to give my beautiful wife the end she so deserved.

I got home, and Zach was asleep. I’m not going to wake him. He knows it was going to happen tonight, so let him rest.

Syd was awake, though, and we had a good moment. She cried, as I did, but in the end we both agreed that now it’s time for the healing to begin. And so it shall.

Please keep posted to this page for details regarding Lynn’s funeral services, and other related things. In the meantime, hug your families tight to your breast. Love them as we’ve loved our mother, wife, daughter, sister, friend.

Goodnight, sweet darling. Enjoy the loving embrace of those whom you love that passed before you. Say hello to my Grandpa True for me, and tell him I love him. Be comforted, gently cradled in the arms of our Lord. You have earned a well-deserved rest.

I leave you now with these exquisite words from Sarah McLachlan. I played this song over and over again in the car on the way home from the hospital earlier. And I cried. And I remembered. And I smiled. It really says it all…

If it takes my whole life

I won’t break, I won’t bend

It will all be worth it

Worth it in the end

‘Cause I can only tell you what I know

That I need you in my life

And when the stars have all burned out

You’ll still be burning so bright

 

Cast me gently

Into morning

For the night has been unkind

Today was a difficult day.

We met with Lynn’s oncologist this afternoon. There we got the official word that the chemo hasn’t worked, and they’ve run out of any meaningful tools to fight the cancer further. It has, as you imagine, spread extensively through her liver, and the prospects are, quite simply, not favorable. We all understand–and accept–that it just isn’t going to go our way this time.

As such, we are beginning home hospice care tomorrow. We will set up a hospital bed in our living room and begin to have regular visits by a home hospice nurse. The objective in this case is to provide Lynn some level of comfort as this chapter in our lives comes to a close.

At this point, it is difficult to provide any time frames. I am guessing we will understand more once we get the visit from the hospice nurse tomorrow. In looking at the information they provided us, though, and in talking today to both the hospice nurse and Lynn’s oncology nurse, it looks (by way of Lynn’s current symptoms) that we’re solidly in the 1-2 weeks column.

Based on that, I am going to go ahead and suspend the visitation calendar concept. Instead, I will simply post on this web site days where Lynn is able to accept visitors. If we’ve already agreed to a day and time next week, please feel free to still stop by. Right now, however, I am reserving the bulk of next week for Lynn’s brothers and sisters who are coming in from out of town to see her.

Also, I want to make certain that Zach and Sydney get to spend plenty of time with their mom. That means on days when she CAN accept visitors, I would like to limit the times to 9 am to 3 pm. I am going to pretty much reserve the evenings for family time.

I know this is hard news to read. Know, though, that we’re okay…hanging in there. We’ve shed plenty of tears, yes. But mostly, we’re celebrating.

I will share with you now what I’ve shared so many times over the past days and weeks… The True Family–we’re not humanists. We believe that–regardless of what a particular individual might call it–it’s Paradise on the other side. And we believe we’ll see our beloved wife and mom again someday. We only cry now because we’ll miss her…for now.

Yet, when all is said and done, my beautiful wife’s beautiful and amazing life is one to be celebrated. Time and time again I get testimonials from people about how Lynn’s courage and example have transformed their lives. That their lives are better for having known her. Dozens of ’em! Hundreds! How many people who live on this earth twice as long can claim that?

I’ve always said that my wife exists on another plane. And I don’t mean that as in insult! I’ve also thought (and said) that she’s an angel trapped in human form. Though I weep, I know–REALLY KNOW–that nothing as beautiful as her can remain tethered to this mortal coil for too long. It is, plain and simple, not the way of things.

I know that she is needed elsewhere, to bestow her blessings and peace on someone else who needs her more than we do. And so, for me, all I can do is stand here in awe of her and feel like the luckiest guy in the world that I got to spend 19 wonderful years with her. And that I get to live on with her in the form of the two beautiful children that we made and raised together.

And, of course, I believe that she will continue to be here, as our very own guardian angel, looking over us as we continue to live on in this world.

So…cry if you need. It’s okay. We’re doing it, too. But please…PLEASE! Don’t despair. I ask you now to join my family and me in celebration. For soon my Lynn will hurt no more, and her work here will be done. Soon she’ll be with God in Paradise. And this old world? It will be be much better for her having been here.

All our love,
Bill, Lynn, Sydney, and Zachary

NOTE TO ALL TRUE LIFERS — I owe all of you an apology for my long and unexplained absence. That is, however, for another day. Please read the following letter I sent out to about a bijillion people earlier today. I promise that my posting will resume now…and new and improved, I hope.

Take care… B

—-

Dear Family & Friends,

I apologize for using the mass medium of e-mail to communicate with all of you. Several folks have inquired about Lynn’s condition and the condition of the family overall, and this seems like the best tool to let everyone know what’s going on with us.

For those of you who haven’t heard, Lynn’s cancer returned again last November. The bad news (first) is that it returned with a vengeance. It is very aggressive this time, and has had her more or less down since the latter part of December. She has experienced a lot of pain and discomfort from the cancer in and around her liver, particularly as a result of her live becoming enlarged as well as the constant gathering of fluid in her abdomen and pleura. She also gets tired very easily. When she’s not qi gonging, she’s probably napping.

Her doctors have been able to start her (and, more importantly) keep her on a new type of chemotherapy over the past month-and-a-half. This has, if anything, stabilized her condition some and provided her some relief.

On the side of being realistic, however, they also know that this chemo isn’t a cure. Their goal now is to buy as much time as possible without making that time a living hell for Lynn, that is, balancing quantity with quality. Their take is, as you can imagine, that we are pretty far down the continuum. Her doctors know that they are running out of tools in their tool chest.

But enough of that…for the good news!

The good news is that—have you met my wife?!?

Lynn inextinguishable hope and spirit remains alive and well. I learned a long time ago never to count her out, as she is the epitome of the saying “it ain’t over till it’s over.” And though we know the cards we’re holding aren’t the best hand, Lynn is still is determined to play it out.

So that’s what we’re going to do. We are presently exploring a couple of other options for wellness, and hopefully they will pan out. We’ll see. For now, we’re taking things day by day.

That said, things are generally okay at the True household. Obviously, it has been a very stressful past few months. Lynn, however, has managed to maintain a terrific and winning attitude, despite the obstacles put before her. The kids, Sydney and Zachary, continue to weather the storm with grace and class. They are really quite amazing, in fact. Though we know we’re in for an increasingly rougher ride, we’re all hanging in there. We’re living each day according to our family motto: “The Trues bend, but they don’t break.”

Throughout this journey, we’ve been tremendously blessed to have a wonderful community of friends and family around us. I hope all of you realize how much your support has sustained us, especially in the past year-and-a-half. I can honestly say that we wouldn’t have made it this far without you, and for that we are eternally grateful.

As a result of your efforts, miracles—the real life kind—have popped up everywhere. Lynn got to China in November of 2003. We had a terrific 2004, where Lynn enjoyed a great spell of good health and our family some of the best family time we’ve ever had. Our kids have been happy and healthy, and I was able to spend much of the summer in New York working on realizing my dream as the movie based on my screenplay, RUNAWAY, wrapped shooting in late September.

I mean…wow..! Sometimes, when I think about it too much, I get overwhelmed. Mostly, however, in these turbulent times, when I am tempted to feel like there’s little hope for our world, I simply remember the outpouring of love and support all of you have shown to our family, and I realize that love and care and compassion truly exist. And it is then in that realization that my faith in humanity is buoyed.

Anyway…enough of my maudlin prattle. Then again, you know me. I simply wanted to say thank you.

On top of that, several of you have been asking what they can do to help. For a change, I thought that I should get a little organized, myself, because it turns out right now there is quite a lot folks can do. Therefore, I thought that I would get my act together and get organized (for a change), and actually tell people what we need for a change, as opposed to leaving it all to guesswork.

So, here goes…

1.) TUESDAY NIGHT MEALS & “LYNNIE-SITTING” – In the spirit of “sure, Bill can heap that onto his plate, too!” I am taking a couple of classes at the University of MN. Before Lynn got sick again, we realized that I had a unique space of time—before the movie comes out and (hopefully) I become a busy screenwriting beaver—where I might get those last two pesky classes out of my way and—don’t faint!—get my bachelor’s degree.

My TUESDAY class runs from 4:00 PM to 9:00 PM, and I need someone each of these nights to bring over a meal, take Zach to his basketball games (which run for about an hour), and generally sit with Lynn to make certain she’s okay.

I also have class on MONDAY, WEDNESDAY, and FRIDAY afternoons. I need to be gone for this class between 1:00 PM and 4:00-5:00 PM. During these times, I need someone to be here, make lunch for Lynn, and sit with her.

If you think that you might be able to help out with this a time or two, I will post a link to a calendar on Lynn’s CaringBridge website page. Take a look at the calendar. If you think you can help out on a particular day, send me an e-mail at wtrue@mn.rr.com). If you could, please put the words HELPING LYNN in the subject line, so I can keep these messages out of the ocean of other ones sloshing around in my inbox.

2.) LYNN’S SUPPLEMENTS – A lot of people have asked whether we could use some financial help. We’re generally doing okay. Until that “Standard Rich & Famous Contract” comes my way, though, we currently don’t have a lot of wiggle room each month.

On of the things that Lynn feels has helped here a lot is a set of supplements from a company called Mannatech. That’s the good news. The not-so-good news is that these supplements set us back over $400 each month.

Apparently, folks can go on the Mannatech website and donate funds toward a particular customer’s account. Lynn & I will be completing whatever set up we need to in order to make this available for anyone who wants to help out in this way. We will try to have a link to this page on Lynn’s CaringBridge website on or before Tuesday, the 15th.

If you are interested in doing this, but don’t see the link on Lynn’s CaringBridge website, send me an email at wtrue@mn.rr.com with the words SUPPLEMENTS FOR LYNN in the subject line. I will e-mail you back the link as soon as we get everything set up on the Mannatech website.

3.) MEALS – You betcha! Every day I don’t have to cook is a good day! Actually, those of you who know me know that I love to cook, but right now it get a little strenuous to do it every night AND attempt to get everything else done, too.

If you think you might like to drop a meal over sometime, feel free! I will note the nights we could use meals on the calendar on Lynn’s CaringBridge website. Simply send me an e-mail at wtrue@mn.rr.com with the words MEALS FOR LYNN on the subject line.

3.) DONATE TO THE 3DAY – I am VERY touched and proud to say the TEAM TRUE LOVE walking club, which was named in honor of Lynn, raised nearly $40,000 last year to help in the fight against breast cancer! Well, we’re doin’ it again this year, too.

Please go to my fundraising page at to make a donation or—better yet!—join us on the walk in June! The team has already raised $3,000, but we still have a long way to go. PLEASE donate generously to this cause, so we can wipe out this disease and save other families from the havoc it wreaks on their lives.

4.) PRAY – Please keep Lynn in your prayers. Believe me when I say that we have felt the power of all they prayers and good vibrations sent our way from all over the world. Even more important, pray for peace and understanding and tolerance and healing in the world, for that is what Lynn is dedicated to. You can help her mission by talking to the man up stairs about it.

5.) VISIT LYNN – If you haven’t had a chance to see Lynn in a while, she would love it if you stopped over sometime. Each day or so, we will be posting when it’s a good day or a not-so-good day to stop by.

If you think you might like to pay us a little visit, it would be great if you could give me a heads up at wtrue@mn.rr.com and put VISITING LYNN in the subject line. That way, I can make certain everyone gets a chance to see her while not overwhelming her with visitors on any given day.

From here on out, we will be keeping Lynn’s CaringBridge website updated on a daily (or every other day) basis. Keep checking in for up-to-date information about Lynn’s condition and for information about other stuff that might help us out as we make our way through this time.

Again…thank you to you all! We love you, and we wish you all peace and happiness.

Take care, and God bless,

Bill, Lynn, Sydney, and Zachary
(…and Elvis, Minnie, and Hunter, too!)

Our first press! Here’s an excerpt from the article:

Written by first time screenwriter Bill True and directed by Tim McCann (“Revolution #9,” “Nowhere Man”), the project is financed through Alan Klingenstein’s Filbert Steps Productions. After developing the project with True for a year they approached McCann with the project, believing he could handle the film’s dark subject matter. “Tim is really fantastic about directing actors in situations that involve emotional distress and he struck us as somebody who could do a very good job with the material,” says Klingenstein.

This marks the third project for the New York-based production company who’ve been quiet since 2000’s “Two Family House.” “It was all about finding material that was cast worthy,” says Klingenstein about the hiatus. “We read a lot of scripts and this was the first script since ‘Two Family House’ that has jumped out at us.”

Check out indieWIRE (our new favorite cinema news source in the Internet) to read the entire article.

Look! We’re the featured photo on the indieWire production page!