Anne-Marie Evans

I just realized I've been away for several months. I'm producing a short film here in Denver, so I've been a bit distracted but in the most wonderful way. But, today I felt the urge to hop on here and say something. I vicariously live through a character in a series I'm writing right now. Her name is Jade and she's me. She's who I used to be and who I want to be. The only difference, she's won an Academy Award and I have not. So, you can only imagine how much I admire Jade. ;) Any who. A lot of thoughts and chatter stir my mental soup these days, especially as a screenwriter. Everything I hear, everything I say... it can all be used differently. I can use it as great dialogue.  Fearlessly . The conversations I have with myself and with other people are what inspire me the most and this is the beauty of character writing. It's truly a wonderful exercise for releasing -  to vent through someone else, someone you invented, someone you didn't invent ra...

Change is real but it doesn't have to mean you change who you are. It means you change.. the way you are . And the way you are is the way you've become . What's the difference? There's a big difference. Who you are is who you were born to be. It's your animus - your dispositions and intentions. It's your spirit-self. The one that says:  hey, be an artist! Or hey, go save lives in the Middle East!   Or hey go do some scary shit that will make your journey so breath taking you won't know where you began. And all that changes with time because change is real and being a glorified soul whether you paint or save lives can be a real struggle, and a lot of people don't survive the fray of being duty bound in constant creation mode. Because to be a prodigy is to be a survivor of your own fear and doubts and those inflicted. Ergo, we adjust our perspectives thus changing our dispositions and intentions - our views. I don't want to save the world, we...

I called you a monster this morning and I meant it. So go home monster because you're in my head. You're in my words. You're in my prayers. My pillow turns to stone when you don't leave me alone. Today I felt like something divine joined me in my office as I gave myself some down time to reflect. I was looking at the walls pretending the walls were listening. Maybe they do, listen. If only the walls could talk. The decorative fixtures made my eyes move waywardly. The knick knacks, the green and yellow galore. It makes me smile. Then... a transcendent moment of observing with my eyes closed took presence as though it was standing between me and those decorative walls. It felt like an angel blew her breath across my arms. Goosebumps, but for just a brief moment. Then my head spins and the spinning is loud like a rusty old marry-go-round on a grassy dune, but the grass needs watering. She spins with the wind, not with a child because she's old and won't be both...