So this past weekend was filled with blood and ovaries, but, fear not, I do not speak of menstruation (ever, actually. It’s not a very engaging topic quite frankly.)  I speak, instead of the first official Mistresses of Horror gathering followed by the Viscera Film Festival at the Downtown Independent.  Kudos to Shannon Lark and Heidi Martinuzzi for putting together a fabulous event.

On Friday evening, women horror directors from near and far gathered for an old-fashioned girl party – tickle fights in our panties as we giggled about boys…NOT!  As fun as those activities always are, this evening was devoted to women who make horror films bonding with their peers.  I saw a lot of old friends and made some wonderful new ones.  Topics ranged from our own endeavors to collaborations to marketing strategies and film financing.  More importantly, it was about how we can support each other.

The highlight of the evening was when the group of 30 or so women formed a circle, introduced ourselves and sacrificed a virgin.  Then we shared what we’ve done, where we’re headed and got to know one another.  We are not alone.  Cool!

On Saturday we reunited at the Downtown Film Independent to watch all manner of female-directed horror shorts and trailers amid a much-larger-than-I’d-expected, very enthused crowd, including familiar horror actors, filmmakers and a good deal of press.

It was a lovely sight to behold as these impressive women walked the bloody carpet and shared their work – each with her own unique voice and style.  Admittedly, it was a bit hard to watch some of our older, more amateurish projects now (they screened Confederate Zombie Massacre! and I Spit on Eli Roth) rather than our newer, more polished films.  So, it was fun to revisit in some ways, painful in others.

Still, it was a fun event, though I have to admit I chuckled when I reviewed my sparce photos the following day to note most were in soft focus.   This is how I fear I was seeing things this past weekend.  I commented earlier this week that I’ve felt like an extra in my own life lately and, much to my dismay, that feeling had reached its peak by Saturday.  Some concerned friends asked if I was okay.  A few who knew my schedule the past few months were concerned I was suffering from “mental exhaustion.”  Personally, I‘d always thought that was merely a diplomatic term they coined for when a rock star needs to cancel a show to go back to rehab.  I Googled it and certainly related to a few symptoms as seems inevitable with most Internet diagnoses.

However, after spending my first evening home since I can’t remember when, as I felt the world gradually slough off my skin, as I lounged for an evening in the reverie of my long neglected solitude, I realized it was not mental exhaustion, but rather social exhaustion.

We artists are a tricky bunch.  We need the stimulation offered by discourse and interacting with others.  But we also require our alone time.  And having had none in literally months on end, I felt myself slipping away.

When I first went out on the fest circuit (was it really just 5 years ago?  crazy!)  I discovered a new part of myself.  I call her “Cinderella.”   She’s the one who breaks free from my slightly OCD subconscious which harbors a Greta Garbo complex (“I want to be alone.”)  She’s the belle of the ball, dancing around the world endlessly in her fabulous glass slippers, hungry for adventures and chasing whims.  Her real job of course is to give a life to projects completed as well as soak up more life to create the next project.

After this latest, most comprehensive world tour to date that Death in Charge and trippin’ have afforded me the past 30 months or so, I have hit my Cinderella saturation point once more.

So as of now, I’m discarding my glass slippers and feather boa for a spell in favor of my writer’s cap and quill (as we continue to move toward next summer’s big feature production, 2 more shorts, post on Dolores and a webisodes series, that is!)  Cinderella is officially “back in box” until the beast, my ever-ravenous muse, must be fed again.  Fortunately, I suspect she’s chock full for quite some time.  Thanks for the inspiration, Everybody.  It will all be coming to a screenplay, film or webisode near you shortly.