It's Omen Time

If you're anything like me (i.e., if you plan to be famous soon but are not yet so), then you're tired of waiting.  Right?  Admit it.  Did you admit it?  Good.  Now take it back.  Now admit it again.  This is a good workout for your abs. 

I'm sorry.  Silliness is creeping into my otherwise utterly serious blog again.  Let's start over.

I've already outlined the painfully boring aspects of getting famous. (Right after I wrote that sentence, I pulled a nose hair out of my nose.  Talk about pain and boredom!)

There's really something wrong with my brain.

Trying again. 

My blog and my writing career have been a little dull the last few months, and it's not my fault.  I mean, I've been true to my 30-minute-a-day writing commitment.  I've been sending my weekly query letters.  I've even kept an eye out for omens.  But nothing's happening.

Well, now, fed up with nothing happening (and tired of telling you about it), I've decided to make something happen.  After all, if you can't find 'em, make 'em*.  Introducing the fifth omen!

I am an inspiration to the young.

"What kind of omen is that," you ask.

"One I made up," I reply.

"You're,--" you begin to say.

"Why do you hate children," I interrupt, thereby shutting you down.  I go on to explain:

While the adult world hesitates to embrace me still, the young (those under 18) have been into me for nearly a decade. 

Four examples:

1) Currently, the Freelance Players of Jamaica Plain, Massachusetts are rehearsing a musical I co-wrote with Melissa Carubia.  Word on the street:  big hit. 

2) Relatedly, I am co-writing another musical for the aforementioned young.  It will open this summer at the Creative Arts at Park camp.  My prediction:  big hit. 

3) Tomorrow, the improvisational comedy show I advise at Newton North High School will open and run for four days.  My expectation:  big hit.  (Seriously, get tickets at that link up there.)

4) Perhaps most telling of all, last weekend I put my usual pastimes^ on hold to spend three days locked in a little room in the old Hancock building downtown.  Inside, I was greeted by 14 charming plays acted, designed, and sometimes written by  . . . guess who?  The young.  Not only that, said young empowered me to respond to those plays in writing, and they took my feedback seriously. 

Try that with a side order of mac 'n' cheese!

Maybe all of this doesn't seem like much now; maybe it sounds like it doesn't even warrant omen status--but like they say in Les Miserables, "When these puppies get older . . . "  I forget the rest.  Leave it at this: it bodes well for old JMM's future.  That, my friends, is the very definition of an omen.

Tick tick tick, Clooney. 

The omens so far:


1. My Zeitgeist Stage check
2. I Burned My Face
3. A Book
4. I'm on National Television!
5. I'm an inspiration to the young!
6. ??
7. ??
8. ??
9. ??
10. ??
11. ??
12. ??
13. probably a giant check


*as the expression may or may not go
^swing dancing and drawing broadswords