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A Buried Stone of February

And it might take forever but I am all I have to show.

There is a missing piece to find before I go.

Three words away from a masterpiece. - Shawn Mullins

In halting, searching steps I return to writing the series while my mind keeps replaying a curious scenario. I'm writing prolifically. Shoulders hunched down. Words chase themselves across the page. Suddenly, my head is chopped off. My hand continues to write. The violence goes unacknowledged until my pen finally stumbles and ceases in mid-sentence.

When I hit writer's block last September with Episode Three of my series, that was how I felt. It's amazing how time changes perspective. At the end of February, there's no longer a disembodied murder scene. It's now more like relationship counseling. The Episode behaves like an abandoned lover and I am trying hard to make amends.

She gives me the cold shoulder, then she ardently urges me to WRITE. Once an impenetrable wall, she has morphed into a Keystone: the unique missing piece that will bridge everything together. Since every other episode has already been completed, it feels even more essential to locate now. She's there breathing. I can actually feel it at the tip of my fingers and in the bones of my knuckles while they hover over the keyboard. I'm waiting for an epiphany, like a runaway bit of dialogue or a sign, that will stamp the adventures of my two leads with a unique signature. They could zip forward, backward or sideways through time (in seasons to come) but there is something about this moment which is pivotal.

Have you ever seen a fox hunting for rodents in the snow? Positioning their bodies to true North; they leap straight into the air and with a calculated trajectory land head down, ass up. I'm scanning the outside world for any indication of the slightest trace and at that sudden click of recognition, am ready to pounce.

Perhaps I will sniff out a clue (or two) as I attend rehearsals and perform at the 3rd Annual Indie Theatre One Minute Play Festival at New Ohio Theatre. Come and see us on: March 5th, 7th and 8th at 8pm for only $20! Directed by Kevin R. Free, watch me flex my actor muscles in six one-minute plays along with an ensemble of talented thespians.

In further correlation to sleuthing is the breathtaking Korean film The Handmaiden. Superbly written and directed by one of international cinema's most singular visionaries Chan-wook Park. What first seems linear, convolutes and shifts in ways that not only reveal secrets of plot but also deepen your understanding of the characters and their motivations. It's so rare to see a legitimate masterpiece made from the sexy thriller genre. When such a film can also serve to offer lessons in history, politics and sociology? Complete with hot lesbian thrashing in wild abandon? Oh. My. God.

There always seems to be a piece that's missing

and through the eyes of someone else, I look into my face

- Dan Fogelberg

Whenever I look out my window to see what the world may be telling me, I notice this mysterious woman directly across the street from me always working on her garden. Doesn't she ever go to work? How the heck does she pay rent? I don't know. But her dedication is somewhat unorthodox because even on a rainy day I'll see her sprinkling those precious plants with a watering can. Stepping into her shoes to imagine losing myself in the daily ritual of planning the layout and immaculately tilling the soil; I ask a new set of questions. Am I this woman? Don't her motions reflect mine? We're both young and Asian, but it's much more than cosmetic. On a subconscious level, I am constantly tending too. Thinking and feeling it through; shifting around these discovered puzzle pieces in the hope of allowing my characters and their scenarios to grow in breadth, shape and possibility.

May agriculture continue to teach me about trust, patience and acceptance. You can only control so much.

Dianne xxx

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