Month: July 2022

I’m Off the Market Until My Book’s ON the Market

~ Solo Chick Traveler ~ Leave a comment

“I’m off the market until my book’s ON the market.”  That’s what I said, and I meant it.  I was drawing a thou shalt not cross line in the sand. I should know better.

The last time I did that was after taking a trip with a guy I’d been dating for a few months.  We found a cheap deal to Vegas to escape winter in Wisconsin and thaw out for a while.  When we got there he invited his friends in Vegas over and they hung out pretty much the entire four days and three nights smoking pot in our hotel room while I complained about it to my sister on the lobby’s payphone. Had my car starting on fire on the way to the airport been a sign?  That’s right, on fire. The brakes locked up, causing friction to build and ignite something under the hood.  

I’ve never seen the metaphor as crystal clear as I do in this instant.

By the time we got back the relationship was also in flames. Our break-up was the final straw breaking the camel’s back–the camel’s back being my attempts at having relationships. This break-up, on top of a string of other break-ups, on top of my recent divorce had me assessing my already poor track record with men.

I said to my bestie Renee on our next girls night out, “Thirty days. I’m benching myself for thirty days. No flirting, calling, kissing, hugging or fucking for thirty days.” 

The next weekend on our next night out, a tall, dark and handsome (it may be cliche, but it’s also hella accurate) half of a twinset (which made him even more sexy)was buying me drinks and asking for my number.  Had to give him the brush off for three weeks, after which I fell madly in bed with him.  He was definitely one of the better choices I’d made.  Perhaps my brief hiatus had performed some kind of reset to the ‘my type’ presets.

And now, many years later I’m doing the same thing but for different reasons.  To continue with the sports allegory, like athletes not having sex before a big game–I doubt Lance Armstrong banged anyone the night before Tour de France–I’m not risking diffusing my energy, either.  I’m too easily distracted when I’m attracted. 

The I’m-off-the-market-until-my-book’s-on-the-market statement was made a few weeks ago, to much applause from those close to me who know this about me and support my focus.  Evidently cuing the Universe: “Let’s send Jen a nice boy.”  

Why?  I mean, Why now?  I’ve been in Key West on and off for four years, and now suddenly my good friend who rarely invites me sailing, invited me to sail with a friend of his who’s just learned how and wants some practice.  A captain.  Sure, why not.  It’s not bad enough he’s cute, funny, helpful and has great lips–he can sail and has a sense of adventure.  Am I being tested or something?  

This is bad timing.  Good guy. . . bad timing.  Feels like I’m just hitting my stride with my book writing.  

One Night Stand (part 1)

~ Solo Chick Traveler ~ Leave a comment
Lost at Sea and Lost in Translation

A call to the island’s creative types went out from The Studios of Key West like a bat signal. Come together to write, rehearse and create backdrops for four brand-new 10-minute plays—in just twenty-four hours. Each writer form cast and crew by plucking names from an empty ice cream bucket and loose parameters from others. A line, a prop, a time, a place. We writers then turn in a short play at dawn, passing the baton to a cast and crew who will spend the day rehearsing and staging for two shows Saturday night.

Thus the name: One Night Stand.

After choosing “Tiki Hut Cruise” and “The Roaring 20s,” I sit down with my team and brainstorm. I don’t know any of them. None of them know me. I’ve been in Key West on and off for four years, but have only been on the periphery of the many theatrical productions here. I usually get a free ticket as a friend of the sound engineer and she takes me with her to the cast parties. It was by way of this friend’s invitation that I’ve landed here, wondering how I can possibly blend all this randomness into some sort of performance art for people to actually enjoy. I’ve never written a play, this is not my forte`

It’s my attempt at alchemy that makes me follow the stream to The Roost–a mini-version of a NYC pub around the corner. Reason would send me home to start coaxing creativity from my keyboard, but my highly social soul hates to miss any fun and wants to get to know these people a little better before telling them what to say and how to move. I’m mixing and mingling, scribbling ideas down and sipping champagne for said friend’s birthday eve. In a moment of subconscious clarity, I step outside because I think want to smoke. But what I need is the view looking back inside through the window at everyone drinking and laughing and talking–real Norman Rockwell style–it hits me that no one else hanging around is a writer. These are all the people who don’t start until what I do is finished. They’re due back at 8:00 in the morning. My clock is already ticking—I look over at the clock on the wall, it’s 10:30pm—AH! What was I thinking!!! I’d lost two hours of precious time already. A line from The Matrix blips across my mind, “Time…is always against us.” ~From the main man Morpheus.

So much can be revealed in such a quick pause. I pay my tab, grab my notes and hop on my bike, self-doubt creeping up with every push of the pedal. Halfway through the thirty minute ride home, it starts to come to me. Some lines, some costumes, a bit of a plot revealing a bit of a theme. I tap it out on my laptop, giggling and aha-ing to myself as I watch it gel. Texting others to see what they’re comfortable with, what they can bring from home. It’s a dizzying whirlwind of words and scenes–as creator and first audience member–I’m trying to capture and make stand still on a page to be shared with others.

I hit send and wonder: Would it even communicate outside of my own weirdly wired noggin? Would anyone get it?

To be continued….