What do you create?
I make great humans. Two to be exact. One male, one female. And, interestingly, they’re incredibly superior to the sum of my parts.
I create chaos on occasion. I try to minimize it as I mature (coughs) or, rather, channel it for good. In my work.
I create nothing much of value with my hands, other than the words I type. And, potato latkes, chicken soup and parm, and the meanest brownies, anywhere. I swear.
I can’t sculpt, paint or draw… I can’t even read my own handwriting… but, I do express my thoughts and feelings with uncensored abandon to the horror of director Henry Jaglom, my mother, and oft, my publisher, Lawrence O’Flahavan.
I wrote a book. A novel. It began, 13 years ago as a rant, at a time of great pain and challenge… and, I just… kept writing. Don’t Jump launches next week after more ups and downs than all the Kardashians put together. Not the work… the business of the work.
I also write little bits-o-snark for The Huffington Post, and, about addiction and recovery for The Fix, and, about healing and celebrity for Reimagine.
Mainly, I create a lotta shit for the Facebook. It’s my favorite venue for expressing myself. Instant connection and gratification. What more could a needy blowhard narcissist want?
Why do you create?
I create because I have to. Excuse me whilst I go throw up. I have little patience and compassion for artists who take themselves “seriously” (judgey).
I create because I choose to. Out of need. Yes. I need to. Is that any different than “have to?” Oh lord, I’m one of the artists I disdain.
I create because I have something to say. A lot to say. And, I want you to hear it. Read it. Digest it. Think about it. Feel about it. Talk to me about it. Care about it. Care about me. Love me. Because, ultimately, that’s what I seek. Your love. Everyone’s love. I have a whorish need for it. And for acceptance. Validation for my… being. And, when I get lucky… you think I’m smart, or funny, or clever, or intuitive, or insightful, compassionate and sensitive… and when I’m really lucky––all of the above. *
*See Don’t Jump (Blowhard narcissist).
What do you consume?
I consume too much, too soon, too often. I’m an addict. And even though I’m in recovery, and work those damn Steps, A Course of Miracles, Deepak and Oprah, therapy, and any other spiritual path my feet find which leads to love––I still have the “ism.” If something’s good, I want more and I want it now. Most days that includes yakking on the phone, a quest for love, iced coffee, with no fat/no sugar hazelnut creamer, so I can justify Cheetos or some other salty, nasty thing, The Voice––if it’s Monday or Tuesday, spending time with my kids, and The Facebook. In massive daily dose. I host a celebrity-driven literary salon—Women Who Write—in my home, so, yeah, I read. I squeeze it in between posts. When someone speaks to me, really speaks to me, I won’t put it down till I’m done… or pass out. Whichever comes second.
Don’t Jump: Sex, Drugs, Rock ‘N Roll and My Fucking Mother: http://amzn.to/1LB2sSM
Women Who Write: http://bit.ly/WomenWhoWrite
Huffington Post: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/vicki-abelson/