in which i make this up as i go along.

Alternate titles: “in which i can’t stop updating my gournal” or “in which my overdose of no-doz has caused little sleep and big thinking”.

It’s taken years, changes of heart, fear, lack of confidence, and a quarter-life crisis to get here – but, if you know me at all, you constantly hear about my want to be “the next Tina Fey”. Of course, no one ever strives to be “the next” someone – you’d like to be yourself, after all – but it’s the easiest way to describe my aspirations.

As a kid, I would recite my favorite movie of all time (Ace Ventura: Pet Detective, don’t judge!) at any family gathering attended. Whenever I was in the company of my Uncle Pete or my dad (two of my early comedy heroes), I would try so hard to make them laugh (and I finally do now, and sincerely at that!). I was never the popular, pretty girl in any level of schooling, but that high school flashback episode of 30 Rock was completely true in my case. I like to pretend I was picked on and left out, but I am one harsh broad and can crush people with my words. Even those more pretty and popular than I. I’m getting off-track, hold on.

Well, as a kid, I was constantly writing. I never finished anything, and a lot of times I just wrote my name over and over, but I felt most comfortable with pen in hand. After dreams of becoming an Olympic gymnast, or a lawyer, or an interior decorator, I finally realized my calling in life had been in my hands (LITERALLY! Hiyoooo!!!) all along. Of course, I’m the type to get very nervous around the things I hold so dear. Because I love writing so much, and I want to be good at it, I hardly do it or show anyone my work. I’m too afraid to be told I’m terrible. Or I’m too afraid to fail with my attempts to get somewhere with it. I suppose that’s why I update my Twitter or Facebook or LiveJournal or here or anywhere else so often – I need an outlet for all of these words I want to say!

Man, it’s like I have no attention span this morning! What I’ll eventually get at here (perhaps now?) is that it took far too long for me to figure out what I’d like to be when I “grow up”. I’m twenty-five now, and it even took me this long to get started with college (I’m a Sophomore; and I know one doesn’t completely need college for certain careers – like the one I have want to join – but it’s a nice time waster, a literal educational experience, and internships can help, yes?). And once I finally recognized the passion that had been there all along, it didn’t take long for me to decide the path inside that passion I was destined to take: television.

DVR and I have been dating for a few years now. Before that, VHS tapes and I had a long love affair. Each new season, I spend hours cooking up an Excel spreadsheet of the television shows I will watch that Fall. The DVR is set to series record what it can, and I make sure to find repeats of the rest. I watch around thirty different programs during the regular television season (Fall to Spring), and I can honestly tell you I’d miss each one if I decided to forego any. And while writing is my passion, and I really need to start learning to write scripts, I find every bit of television-making fascinating. Script supervisor, key grip, fucking crafts service! I just want to get in there. I want to be behind the camera, in one way or another.

Well, back to the thing I said three hours ago, I want to be the next Tina Fey. I’ve come to call this adventure “On My Way to Tina Fey”. Of course, I’d love to actually get to Tina Fey (like, actually in front of her), but I don’t mean the “to” so literally. I want to be at her level of humor (and beyond?), I want to be at her level of writer’s confidence, I want to be at her level of profession. I don’t mean fame with that last one (though I joke that I just “want to be famous”, that really isn’t true; I would like to win an Emmy and/or Oscar one day, though!). I mean that I’d like to get to her level of demand. She’s head writer of her own show, lead actress on her own show, producer of her own show, and now someone wants her to write a book, and people want her in movies. People want her. People respect her work and want her to make theirs better. How nice does it feel to be wanted in any way? Now, how nice must it feel to be wanted because of your talent? Because of your passion?

My ingestion of No-Doz to stay awake to see Terminator Salvation last night has caused ramblings and novel-type blogging and I apologize to anyone who’s made it this far, waiting for the point to this thing! Well, the point is more a joke than actual, true things (or maybe not; joking is usually an easier way for me to say serious things) so, you’re probably disappointed. This morning, as thoughts and words raced through my very-awake mind, I realized how fun it might be to set some goals for this journey to Tina Fey. I’ll make it a ten-step program and each step will be more difficult than the last. The first few will be easy because it’ll make me more confident (plus, I’ve already completed them). And, as my title suggests, I’m sort of making them up as I write them now.

STEP ONE: Purchase thick-rimmed glasses. Check!
STEP TWO: Be funny, witty, and charismatic. Check? Is this check, everyone?
STEP THREE: Befriend Hollywood screenwriter. Check! Dave Finkel is following me on Twitter and we’ve @ replied each other a few times (in the form of witty banter). This makes my heart jump (or is it still the No-Doz?).
STEP FOUR: Learn to write scripts. I’ve got ideas (some for movies, some for scenes, none for television), and I’ve got The Screenwriter’s Bible, now I’ve got to marry these things and make it official, on paper. (Ah, my metaphors never fail!)
STEP FIVE: Join comedy troupe/group and/or take improv classes and/or try stand-up? I feel that this will build my comedy confidence. I actually lost my funny for a little while a few years ago, but that’s a novel longer than this entry.
STEP SIX: Get myself to New York City. I’m lucky enough to have school to attend now, and can try transferring to one in the bigger city. Even if I commute from Philadelphia each day of class, or if I get a dorm and stick around all semester – it’ll count.
STEP SEVEN: Land an internship around television. Whether I’m getting coffee for the second second assistant director of photography on a shitty cable news show, or if I’m lucky enough to land the types of things my boyfriend and his cousin have gotten (internship at The Daily Show or a gig as an NBC Page, respectively), I’ve got to get this size eight-and-a-half, leopard print-shoed foot in that door everyone talks about. Also, I need not quit any internship or job I am blessed with. My track record of over thirty jobs and sneaking out of shifts at lunchtime and never coming back isn’t allowed to continue!
STEP EIGHT: Shmooze and move on up, I suppose! Nancy Drew the shit out of any opportunities that become available (that is, dig and explore – use a giant magnifying glass and a lock-pick if needed) and charm the pants off those offering said opportunities. Make friends now and enemies later (it’s cutthroat, this I know).
STEP NINE: Push the stories and the plethora of scripts I should’ve written by now. Use my new contacts and friends to get my things heard and read and produced and aired. Hopefully, my confidence won’t let the word “no” be the end all.
STEP TEN: Enjoy Tina Feydom?

I apologize for the heft of words and the lack of focus. I was up late, it’s early, and my hands are still shaking from the pilled caffeine. But, honestly, when it comes to Tina Feydom, in the words of Alice, Liz Lemon, and 30 Rock fans everywhere: “I want to go to there.”

Yeesh, my fingies are on fire.