http://www.writingourwayhome.com/search/label/creativity%20interviews
Thought I'd share.
Hope all are well.
Sincerely,
Lisa
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Monday, April 9, 2012
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Bad Interview
“Are you a dog person? I have dogs.” The producer asks as he gestures to the couch on which two rat-like dogs recline.
“Uh, well, I’d love a dog,” I reply. “But I'm afraid that my elderly cat wouldn’t approve.”
“I know how to kill cats,” he drawls.
The executive producer, Jay Josephson, is a tall, pockmarked man with a southern accent whose last hit aired in the '90s. This show represents his chance to finally have another moneymaker at a time when TV audiences and revenues are declining. For me, the job is a chance to earn a living at an art I love, editing material that should be a lot of fun on a show that is bound to be a big hit.
During the interview, Jay doesn’t meet my gaze. In fact, the way he fidgets and twists in his chair communicates extreme discomfort. When Alice, his creative partner, sings my praises (we’ve worked together before), he shrugs, makes a sour face, looks away.
Alice holds my resume. “Lisa, ideally, we’d like to see someone with genre experience. What can you say?”
Genre experience? Our last show together was a teen sci-fi drama-comedy. It had action, romance, teens with super powers—how much more “genre” do they want? I parse her expression for a clue. Oh! She means horror! “Well,” I lean forward, “I just watched your pilot. I can cut that material.”
Jay looks at Alice and shrugs, a gesture that could mean, “Ok, you can hire her if you want.” Or, “I don’t think much of her. Let’s table this for now.”
She turns to me, her expression carefully blank, “You’re the first person we’ve met and we won’t decide anything for a few weeks,” she says, rising.
I nod. Turn to Jay, “So glad I finally got to meet you!”
“Oh, don’t worry,” he drawls, barely brushing my outstretched hand with the tips of his fingers. “You’ll come to hate me soon enough.”
Jane Hirschfield, poet whose work I like..
http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/22543
Thought I'd share.
Took a worshop with her once and she was very positive, even suggested a journal I might submit my poetry to.
| Late Self-Portrait by Rembrandt | ||
| by Jane Hirshfield | ||
The dog, dead for years, keeps coming back in the dream. Which sleeps, changes, awakens, dresses, leaves. Happiness and unhappiness Each carries the same water, it says. | ||
| This Was Once a Love Poem | ||
| by Jane Hirshfield | ||
This was once a love poem, before its haunches thickened, its breath grew short, before it found itself sitting, perplexed and a little embarrassed, on the fender of a parked car, while many people passed by without turning their heads. It remembers itself dressing as if for a great engagement. It remembers choosing these shoes, this scarf or tie. Once, it drank beer for breakfast, drifted its feet in a river side by side with the feet of another. Once it pretended shyness, then grew truly shy, dropping its head so the hair would fall forward, so the eyes would not be seen. IT spoke with passion of history, of art. It was lovely then, this poem. Under its chin, no fold of skin softened. Behind the knees, no pad of yellow fat. What it knew in the morning it still believed at nightfall. An unconjured confidence lifted its eyebrows, its cheeks. The longing has not diminished. Still it understands. It is time to consider a cat, the cultivation of African violets or flowering cactus. Yes, it decides: Many miniature cacti, in blue and red painted pots. When it finds itself disquieted by the pure and unfamiliar silence of its new life, it will touch them—one, then another— with a single finger outstretched like a tiny flame. | ||
links to works by Robert Hass (a poet I love)
http://www.english.illinois.edu/maps/poets/g_l/haas/notes.htm
and an interview/story on "Writer's Almanac"
http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/index.php?date=2011/08/25
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Monday, October 3, 2011
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