Malibu

We're off for the weekend for a restorative overnight playdate in Malibu with ourselves and Chachi, our eldest fur baby. By the time we get back I'll be one day away from knowing what comes next, even though I'm sure that twist of fate was written in the stars long ago. Well, at least two and a half weeks ago.

The last time we were in Malibu was after my first miscarriage and it was so wonderful to lay on the balcony above the crashing waves and read "About What Was Lost" which is an amazing anthology by women writers on miscarriage and still birth. (Highly recommend it for yourself or as a thoughtful gift as it was the ONLY thing I could find on the shelf - actually had to order it from Amazon - that remotely touched on what I was experiencing.)

Once I had a wonderful male neighbor - the single father of a teenage girl who I sometimes took under my wing - several years ago when I was married to my first husband (who I ended up splitting with over many issues, having a child as parent with a mood disorder was one) who told us that babies bring money. He called it a Jewish piece of folk wisdom and went on to describe that he was barely eking out a living as a journeyman furniture designer and when his daughter came along suddenly his business mushroomed to the point where he had to open not one but two shops to manage it all. He advised us that even though children raise the cost of living, they pay for themselves. "Babies bring money," he said with a certainty that I believed.

I've always clung to that notion like a hopeful if fantastic life preserver. It's been a while that I've been trying to make it as a writer in Hollywood (another reason my first marriage ended) and I'm scared that if I can't get hired as is, how will a baby make me more desirable to development execs and show runners? I already break every rule when it comes to being a woman in this town, from appearance to demeanor to the subject of what I write.

Yesterday my partner, who is an assistant to an independent film producer, contacted me on behalf of his boss to see if I would submit samples of my writing for script reading work, possible script rewrites, and potentially even a screen adaptation of some books he's optioned. Makes me wonder and at the same time get really juiced for television staffing season which is right around the bend and for which I've prepared several brand spanking new scripts.

So in addition to preparing for a baby, perhaps I should also buckle up for whatever other form of fortune s/he make bring along, too?

P.S. The place we stay in Malibu is NOT ours', for the record, it belonged to a friend of my mother-in-law who recently passed away due to unfortunate circumstances. It will be a nice chance to say goodbye to a place he shared with us so selflessly.