Material, or intellectual property, is your trump card in Hollywood, especially for a director. (Ahem, female director). If the script is good, the writing top notch – a page turner – and fills the hole in the marketplace, then that script becomes a girls’ best friend.

Now let me pause for a moment and also say, 15 years ago I was grossly aware of the “lack of female directors” thing. (Read my entry on Pre-visualization for more) Throughout film school it was always a topic of discussion … but the thing that got me, the thing I analyzed more than anything else is, why? Why do we not have a bigger bucket of talent to choose from on the vagina side of things? This was my true thesis at film school, to find an answer.

And the answer I found was: an economic one.

At the end of the day, it costs more to be a woman. Yep, you heard me. Biologically speaking, relationship speaking, motherly speaking, etc. (And if you want to debate this, bring it on.) On top of that, women are really good at cleaning up other people’s messes, I mean they’re really good at being “the assistant” or “the producer” because we have a disposition to fix things, problem solve, and mother. Disagree with me all you want, but this is absolutely the case. There’s nothing sexy about it. And to be a director, you need to be sexy. Simple as that.

Take for example my friends. All guys. It used to be I had a few girl friends with me, on the front lines, but now its mostly dudes, all of us scraping by just to maintain living out here. They can afford it though. Their health can, their biological clock can, their relationships can. They don’t need to go shopping, get their hair colored, etc, just to keep up. They can pull it off with the “dark and mysterious starving artist” look. (Case in point, Project Greenlight. I was a finalist last year – don’t even get me started). You’d be insane to stay out here, especially if you’re a woman who yearns to be a mother someday. Which, many of my friends secretly want, even though none of them admit it. (Says the girl with four kids.)

Not only this, but every female guest speaker who came into those golden gates at USC; showrunners, producers, agents, executive, a couple directors, etc. all said one thing in common: “Whatever you do, don’t let go of your vision of who you want to be in this town.”

Bam.

Enough said.

So back to my discovery of this app called Airbnb. In short, the game-changer. I did whatever I had to do, to pay the bills and keep writing.

10,000 hours right? That’s what they say is the minimum amount required to be an expert at something. I needed to put in a lot more hours if I ever wanted to get into this club. I knew that and still know it. I have to be quicker, better, and more clever than the competition.

Back then, if it meant staying at my parent’s homes for long periods, I would do it, if it meant staying at a hotel in Utah to be with my kids and have lower cost of living, I would do it. If it meant sleeping in my car and showering at the community pool, I would do it. I would do whatever it took to keep my kids the number one priority as well as my writing.

I decided to hold onto this mantra and never let go.

And thank goodness I did.

Because the most extraordinary thing happened; I became a cleaning lady. Ha

I soon realized I could average more money per day if I kept the cleanings rather than farm them out. So commit to the cleanings I did, and continue to do so. Humbling for sure. But there is a gift in cleaning, something so brilliant you’d never see it coming – the work you’re doing is in auto-pilot – it’s a mindless, non-emotionally exhausting money maker, the best kind of job ever for a writer/creator.

Your mind gets lost in the worlds you’re creating, for hours. So much of writing is working things out, chewing on things. Committing those ideas to the page is definitely an obstacle, but if you know where your story is going, its much easier. I can make money and work on my craft.

Win, win baby!

And hey, breaking a little sweat while cleaning never hurt a writer either. Being sedentary is a no-go, so cleaning forces me to get off my bootie and kick it into physical gear.

I will write more on my airbnb adventures as we go along, but for now know this:

• Being in control of your time is the key to succeeding as an artist.

• Having residual income (even if its not a lot) is still better than nothing, and allows the tortoise part of you brain, the creative side, to expand and create. (Stress is the number one killer to creativity, so lack of consistent income is a doozy for us writers.)

• Focusing on your personal relationships, my kids, is stimulating and life fulfilling. I don’t know how anyone can create without strong relationships surrounding you, feeding you, reminding you why you chose this life path.

I now have an adorable 1950’s home in Utah, truly a dream come true, which is less than a mile from my kids’ schools, and two more airbnb’s here in LA, all of which are booked nearly every day I’m not in them. My older kids clean The Utah Bungalow, teaching them work ethic, saving, and to remain focused on their studies. (Not to mention, building a nice stash for college and/or a car.)

Someday I hope to have a dozen of homes I own that I can host from. Home sharing isn’t going away anytime soon, despite the negative chatter. If you think about it, it’s always been around. Until then, I’ll continue cleaning and hosting, affording myself the time to write and keep creating.

Do you have any other ideas or solutions on how to create residual income? Please share! I think it’s important we artists ban together, keeping our village strong.

More on this in other posts!

x and tales,

AEJ

The post Living the Dream :: Cleaning Part II appeared first on Kiss and Tale Productions, LLC.

I had just graduated from USC and needed to find a “job.” Up until this point I had a roommate, whom I split everything with, and had been commuting back and forth from Utah to be with my kids. (They moved to Utah mid-grad school when it became too much for me to have them by myself, and when I realized the public schools were phenomenally better there.)

Now that the heavy lifting of school was over, I wanted to refocus my efforts on two things: my kids and writing. (Because writing leads to directing)

Just as I was about to post half my furniture on Craig’s list to downsize my LA life, a friend told me about the home sharing site, www.Airbnb.com

One click and I was sold.

I’ll never forget the first time I hosted.

Two stewardesses. They said they wanted to try something different, something cozy and warm. They wanted to be in a home. I definitely had that in my Shabby Chic Oasis. I remember being outside, sitting in my car, looking up at the apartment window when they arrived, having never met them in person and imagining them in my kitchen cooking, in my bed sleeping. How strange the feeling was! I couldn’t believe two complete strangers were in my home, treating it as their own. What had my life come to? How did I end up here, pimping out my sanctuary, especially after all that money I dumped into grad school!?

Believe it, I did.

I slept on a friend’s couch that first night. After expenses, I made a profit of $70/day. That’s more than $15/hour working part time as a waitress or as a customer service rep at the Apple Store … all while writing at a cafe.

Say what?! Yep, I made money while writing the projects I cared about, and not the ones the bank wanted me to write, AKA the studios, who were never going to hire a female director, especially for her first feature anyway. My guests stayed for three nights, so I made a goal to write 10 pages in that time, giving myself a self-imposed deadline.

I returned home, surprised to find everything in great order, as if I had two girlfriends over, except these girlfriends left me money with pages in my pocket. Cha-ching. I could get used to this!

I continued this on and off until my apt. became so popular, I literally was couch surfing 100% of the time. My friends and parents were incredibly patient, knowing I wanted to see my kids in between writing spurts, and continued supporting me with this crazy lifestyle. (I owe them for that)

Now I know this all might sound insane, and it is, but you have to understand I wanted to be able to see my three pumpkins in Utah at any time, for any reason. If I locked myself into an entry job at a production company, I would be a slave to that company just to make ends meet, and would never be able to get away. If I wrote on a television show, I would be a slave to that show and never be able to write and direct the projects I knew I needed to create. And if I moved to Utah and got a job, I would literally be throwing away a massive investment on myself and the potential of a career that could change my life and my children’s lives for the better.

Okay, so now you’re thinking, “What’s so wrong with that? Work your way up, get established and maybe in 5-10 years you’ll get there.” Okay, true.

Sort of.

Here are the facts:

• Invested – Over $250K in student loans to attend the best film school in the world, to be mentored by the best in the industry, and make connections to last a lifetime, in short, to become a writer/director in the toughest sport on the planet

• Top of the Class – After graduating USC you can edit, produce, shoot, do sound, work in post production or development, or write. Or you can go be an agent. I excelled at directing, something only 1% of students get to do at USC. Not only that, but I sold a script to a major production company/studio. Two points in favor of going the writing/directing route. (Believe me, I would never had signed up for this if I didn’t think I belonged, one of the reasons why I went to grad school, to figure out for myself – I belonged.)

So where should that massive investment go? Into someone else’s company? Into someone else’s vision? Nada. No way. I didn’t give up nearly everything to sort of make it.

I made an ultimatum with myself, a promise if you will.

I would do whatever it took, no matter what, or die trying. That’s all there was to it. 

And Airbnb was part of my ticket in getting there. (As well as thousands of others who would jump on this train for similar reasons in the coming months and years. Thank goodness for good ol’ capitalism! I know a lot of controversy exists with these ride-sharing and home-sharing platforms, which I’ll discuss more on the blog, including how to do it the right way.)

I flipped houses in my twenties while raising three babies, and became an expert at staging. Nothing could come more natural and easier for me. I could win at this. And I knew it after that first booking.

More in Part II, click on the link below!

x and Tales,

AEJ

The post Living the Dream :: Cleaning Part I appeared first on Kiss and Tale Productions, LLC.

First in this series: LAUNDRY

If you don’t own a home in LA, you lease. (And nobody owns, so there you go.) When you lease, you’ll be super lucky to find a washer and dryer in your unit. Kind of lucky if it’s in your building, and not so lucky if it’s somewhere in your complex.

Basically unlucky if you have to go to THE LAUNDROMAT.

Right now we are in the unlucky camp.  We go back and forth between two apartments (thanks to Airbnb and our freelance income). One is fancier than the other, and therefore is “cha-ching” — way more.

Since we’re currently in the “not so fancy one,” (ahem, the sacrifice of making your first feature) I get my exercise done for the day simply by going to THE LAUNDROMAT.

Imagine, if you will, loading up five IKEA bags in your car, full of clothes, sheets, towels, blankets, poopy mistakes, etc. WITH YOUR TODDLER. You take these five loads to the laundromat (which by the way, is in a shopping center that has limited parking) and park yourself fifty yards away from the front door of that dang mat.

You unload THE TODDLER and strap her into the stroller, then somehow manage to carry the five bags in increments ACROSS the parking lot. Beware of the homeless folks along the way, all of whom need medication for their mental illnesses.

Once inside the laundromat, you better have come prepared because the owners of these hole-in-the-walls are stuck in 1989.  No credit card machines are available to obtain cash, so you better not have forgotten those dollar bills baby! (The quarter machine doesn’t take twenties either so good luck with the ATM if you choose that route) If by chance you DIDN’T BRING those glorious dollar bills, then you must leave those bags (the ones with with the precious clothes that the homeless folks would like to have) and trek back through the parking lot to the grocery store, WITH THE TODDLER.

By now THE TODDLER is antsy and wants to get out, so you let her. Since it’s been raining, her energy levels are off the charts, and the puddles are now calling her name. You manage to survive the puddle zone (remember you have to hustle because your five bags of laundry are still back at that mat, waiting for someone to go through them, or for someone to “borrow” some of your detergent) and make it inside the overcrowded grocery store. (Everyone shops on Saturday, because they’re overworked Mon-Friday like unpaid interns, all for the hashtag, #livingthedream)

Once inside you MUST NOT get distracted. No food purchases allowed, even though you are proabably starving. THE MISSION is to get those BILLS. Finally you get the bills and manage to distract the toddler from the candy at her eye level (which should be illegal btw) and head back to your favorite place of all time.

Back at THE LAUNDROMAT you feed the bills to the coin machine, and of course the machine spits them back, causing you to become very anxious because your TODDLER is now making friends with the homeless folks, as well as a lot of eclectic people in the room, including one guy who doesn’t know the meaning of personal space, but your TODDLER thinks it’s awesome because he’s so friendly. CUE the quarters spitting out of the machine; Ding, Ding, Ding! And THE TODDLER running over, screaming, “Oh wow!”

She grabs as many quarters as she can, holding them in her tiny hands, not understanding why they keep slipping out. Unfazed she walks over to the machines, fists full, while you are shoveling those FIVE LOADS in as quickly as possible, hearing the sounds of quarters dropping and rolling all over the place. YOUR PRECIOUS, hard to obtain, QUARTERS are now being picked up by the lovely friendly people, which your TODDLER thinks is absolutely terrific, never mind all the germs she’s collecting from them.

“Here mama,” she says.

By now you can feel everyone watching you in your frazzled state of mind, including the actor dude who is into you because you’re not wearing a wedding ring. CUE THE TODDLER putting a couple quarters in her mouth and spitting them back out again. “Thank you Lucy, thank you so much,” you say to your little helper as she puts the $3.50 worth of quarters into the slot, one by one, which takes a bit because the little boss inside her insists on doing each one HERSELF. (Notice the price tag on 5 loads of wash.)

CUT TO twenty minutes later.

The soap is in, the machines are on, and your timer is set. Better hustle though, otherwise when you come back your clothes will have “kindly” been moved elsewhere, which is okay, until four days later when your only pair of designer jeans, that fit you, are missing. Off you go, to run those errands, and repeat the steps all over again, next for the dry cycle, and then again for the load up, all of which happens, remember, WITH THE TODDLER.

Back home now and too exhausted, you leave your precious laundry in the back of your SUV because the thought of carrying them, WITH THE TODDLER, two blocks to the apt (because parking is non existent in LA) is just too much. Alas! Pop open a Stella and throw some fish sticks in the oven and tell yourself it’s all good, because hey, you’re #livingthedream right? See, I told you we were going to be inspiring around here. Treatment and outline are caalllinnnng …

What did you accomplish today? Hopefully you are living your dream.

The post Living the Dream: Laundry appeared first on Kiss and Tale Productions, LLC.