Writing a Queer TV Show

I’ve been sharing this on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram, so this is finally for followers on WordPress!

I’m so excited to finally be able to share what I’ve been working on while I was in film school this year.

I’m writing a queer themed TV comedy series called “Adulthood?” featuring a transgender lead character, here in Vancouver.

Ezra Jacobson, Freddie and Greta Harper, and Hudson Maine have just graduated from college, but they don’t know how to act in the adult world now that they’re on their own. But they’re really good at fucking everything up!

I was tired of watching TV shows with only one queer character, usually gay and a stereotype. I wanted to write a group of friends who were apart of the queer community and witness events of adult life through their eyes. Ezra is a trans guy, Greta is lesbian, Hudson is gay, and Freddie is the straight guy in love with Ezra.

This project is my whole heart right now. I’ve put so much passion and hard work into writing it and I’m just excited to have people read it and hear their opinions.

If you have time, please check out my pilot episode for Adulthood? and leave a rating! I appreciate it so much!

https://studios.amazon.com/projects/86461

Take a Vacation From Your Problems

Saturday, I had brunch with a friend and we talked about ideas for short films. We want to write transgender films that don’t rely on the gender identity of the character, but rather the story on its own.

Usually that one event in the day would be strenuous enough for me and I’d excuse myself to go home and recharge, but there was a transgender gathering on Davie street that I’d been wanting to go to and ze wanted to go as well so we walked across downtown to check it out.

There were about ten people when we showed up and a few more followed in after. The group leader said it was the biggest group he’d seen in a year.

People talked about stuff and shared some stories of top surgery and coming out in the work place. One woman was named Steph. I looked across at her and thought, yes, you look like a Stephanie. You embody the person that I always thought of when I thought of my name. I never fit the name, it was never mine. It suited her and I was happy.

I barely said a word. I was just interested in listening to everyone else. As the only trans person in my class and small group of friends, I get bored talking about myself. I want to hear what they have to say.

My friend invited two other people to hang out with us. There was a zombie walk happening on Robson street that ze wanted to check out and the three of them wanted to sit and have a drink and watch the walk.

I did what I always do and went through my list of excuses to use. But instead of using one, I just went with them. We ended up at a restaurant and drank some beers and watched the zombies and talked about trans guy stuff and it was actually fun. I know I need these people in my life. I need my tribe, so to say. But being twenty-five and having social anxiety can really affect these circumstances.

Tonight I went out to Hershe: a queer dance club for mostly lesbians, but anyone is welcome. I’d been to a different event a couple months ago and didn’t enjoy it, and I was hesitant towards this one, but I caved and jumped on spontaneity. I was prepared to go without my roommate, but she did end up coming and I’m glad.

Once we got there and started dancing with everyone else, I forgot about all the things I was nervous about. No one cares what you’re wearing, or if you think you’re having a fat day, or whether you can dance or not. I stopped worrying about the bus schedule and the bathroom. I didn’t worry about my career, or lack thereof.

Honestly, most of the time, I was just observing everyone else and storing thoughts away for story ideas. For my fellow writer roommate and I, going to the club isn’t for hooking up, it’s for research. At one point, two girls eating each other’s faces continuously bumped into us as they lost themselves in each other and Alicen and I just smirk at each other. I shouted in her ear that they have no idea I’m going to blog about them later, and well, here we are.

This is good. Going out every now and then and leaving my problems at home is good. I’m going to do it more often.

Time for Kelly to Come Out of the Closet

Or the Word Document, more likely.

A few years ago, I published my first Novel, Parker. A sixteen year old boy trying to fight off Dylan, a bully at school ,while hiding a secret love for his best friend Liam.

But I was young and dumb, and I did it all the wrong way. I went through a self-publishing company in the States. It cost too much and I’ll never make it all back through them. And my birth name is still the author name and I hate even looking at it now. But those are the lessons you learn when you do something for the first time.

So this time I’m going through Amazon’s self-publishing on Kindle.

The book up this time is Kelly Pink.

Kelly Greene is a seventeen year old transgender girl. She’s got an overbearing father who won’t let her wear anything pink or feminine to school, a sister named Olive who gives her everything pink to wear, and a step-mom, Georgia, trying desperately to connect with her. Kelly’s best friend is Jimmy who lives next door. Their window’s are accessible by a plank of wood kept in their bedrooms. But Jimmy isn’t the love interest. There is no love interest. Only Jake. Kelly and Jake fool around after church service behind the building and ignore each other’s presence at school.

The story follows Kelly as she defies the constructs of gender, runs away from everything she knows, and comes to terms with the death of her mother; the only person to ever truly accept her wholly.

So I’m gonna try this again. Also gonna see if I can change the title to something more eye-catching. I had a plan to keep all my books with their character name, but maybe that’ll change.

Now begins the editing process.

http://www.amazon.com/gp/aw/d/1475960387/ref=mp_s_a_1_1?qid=1439784428&sr=1-1&pi=AC_SY200_QL40&keywords=Parker+macneil&dpPl=1&dpID=313kvdJu6gL&ref=plSrch

I Let My Feelings Guide Me

My heart has no sense of direction. And when it feels strongly about something, it manipulates my brain to believe that it has our best interests at… well at heart.

I ended things horribly with the guy I was seeing earlier this year. We were never in a real relationship, but we were dating and only seeing each other. He told me straight up that he wasn’t interested in anything serious and I lied and told him I wasn’t either because he was fucking gorgeous and he had a killer personality and for some reason, he liked hanging out with me too. He was the first transguy I’ve dated, and he opened my world to so many different experiences.

And then I fell for him. I fell so hard. He saw this and ended things with me because he didn’t want me to think that it was ever gonna go somewhere. He wanted to have the same feelings for me, but he just couldn’t connect emotionally.

A month later, my heart still hurt for him and I was still thinking about him constantly and I knew I was falling in love with him. I sent him a text and told him how I felt. I knew that it was unfair of me to tell him I loved him because he’d have to live with that, but I was selfish and my brain was being held hostage. I should’ve just kept it to myself. I should’ve just kept his number in my phone, and I should’ve just kept him on Facebook. I’d already unfollowed him. I didn’t have to unfriend him completely.

I’m an asshole. I’m literally the worst.

And I will beat myself up over this until I die.

I thought that two months after this event, and after dating another person during that time, that I would be over this, but I saw him tonight at the Skytrain and my heart just slipped all the way down my chest.

All the guilt I’d been feeling over the months finally came to the surface and I was the worst person ever. He didn’t make eye contact with me. I’m not even sure if he saw me, but fuck he looked so good.

Now I’m stuck with a dilemma. I need to make this right. My stupid little heart needs to make this right with him. I don’t have his number any more so I’m gonna have to Facebook message him. I just want to apologize for cutting him out the way that I did. I don’t expect him to respond. It would probably hurt just as much if he did as if he didn’t. Either way, I’m just gonna be hurt by this experience for so long and I’ll hate myself for acting so insensitive to a person that I liked so very very very fucking much.

Two Months (and two days) Post-Testosterone

And it feels good.

Or it would if I felt anything at all. The first six weeks, I pumped my body with 25mg of T and was getting used to sticking sharp objects into my body. It’s still awkward to do my left leg with my right hand, but after a demonstration for the guy I’m dating, this past Tuesday, I managed to not hit a spot that would require extra pain and a tiny hobble.

I think I experienced a tiny adrenaline rush after the shot, feeling restless in bed and laughing over nothing as I cuddled him and he tried to sleep. So that was pretty awesome.

That past Tuesday I got the OK from my doctor to begin 50mg injections. My Testosterone levels went up from 4 to 4.5 within those first six weeks. I forget what’s normal for a cis guy, but I’m on my way to that number!

I haven’t really noticed any significant changes yet though, and I’m impatient about it sometimes. When my doctor asked if I’d noticed any changes, I wanted to say that I had, but it’s been rather boring so far. The only side effect I’ve been experiencing is increased acne, which is totally fun to deal with, and the combination of facial wash are so not drying out my skin at all …

I’m super stoked for this increase though. It was worth the three vials of blood that pinched my arm at the lab and need to be taken every three and six months to keep my levels on the right track. Just means I have to watch myself more closely to really track if changes are happening. Cause one day I’ll look back and I won’t look like this, and I’ll wish that I had paid more attention.

I just want my voice to change. I’m tired of laughing and hearing this high squeal, and talking to people when all they hear is a feminine voice. I’m fine with being feminine though. When I’m two years post-T, I’ll still have feminine features in my face, and I’ll still have my quick feminine walk, and a feminine voice, but it’ll be different and good. I want to grow my hair out long again. It was gorgeous and I’ve been missing it lately.

This post isn’t really about much. I just need moments to look back on to remember how far I’ve gone and will go.

What Does it Mean?

To love someone. To really be in love with someone.

When I was little, I had a crush on every cute guy I saw. There were a couple guys in particular that I knew that lasted a few years. I may have written about those previously. Looking past those two though, the others were merely fleeting moments of infatuation.

We put too much emphasis on the word,

Love.

I don’t really love those jeans. I don’t really love that movie. I don’t really love cake.

Okay, I do love cake.

But really, what does it all mean? How many times have I really loved someone?

I didn’t love a boy before I was fifteen. That first boyfriend was love, but it wasn’t true love because it didn’t last. Maybe you can’t know if it was true love until both of you die, still just as in love with each other as you were from the beginning. Or maybe there’s a different meaning towards “true”.

If I’ve been in love, it’s been twice. Second boyfriends who tear your heart to shreds don’t count. But boyfriends who last seven years and let you form your own opinion of yourself, and boyfriends who remain in contact with you months after you’ve broken up because you both know you have to stay in each other’s lives, are love. In love?

I’m listening to Elle King’s album Love Stuff, and it’s 2 in the morning on the west coast, and I’ve been wracking my brain for weeks about these feelings I’ve got for this new guy.

It’s been about seven weeks since we started seeing each other and we finally had a really good open, honest conversation about what we’re doing together, and decided that neither of us are ready for a serious relationship, but we love being with each other so that’s good enough for us and we’re continuing to take things casual.

But what is casual? And what defines a serious relationship? Is serious calling each other boyfriend? Meeting the friends? We’re not even friends on Facebook. Certainly, a serious relationship involves meeting the family, but that’s not happening. Is it just having that person who you know will be available for a date on Friday night cause they’re not seeing anybody else?

That also came up. While I’m going through this new transition of mine, he wanted me to know that he’d understand if I wanted to explore things with other people. To which I told him that he’s crazy. I’ve been dating cis-gender guys for 10 years, after meeting him, there’s no way I’m more interested in them than this gorgeous fuck-gender-norms transguy who rocks all angles of the spectrum, has the greatest down to earth personality, and pulls off a septum ring, to top it all off.

I’m completely infatuated with this guy. Being with him, having real conversations, holding his hand, kissing him goodnight is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I can be everything I am with him and he actually understands what I’m going through because he’s going through the same thing. I connect with him on a level that I haven’t been able to connect with with anyone I’ve dated before, though they tried.

I’m just not certain that I know how to take things non-seriously, because that’s all I’ve ever known. I know I’m just psyching myself out though because I’m neurotic and I can’t ever let my mind rest. I like this guy. I want to see where things go naturally.

Just what is the difference between loving and being in love with someone?

This hopeless romantic is driving himself to death with all the ponders.

Queer Boxing

I wanted a way to channel the increasing amount of testosterone in my body.

When my body starts to change, I want to be able to mold it into something I can be proud of. Because I’ve never been proud of my body, for more reasons than one. I’ve never even been satisfactory with it.

But that will change. Because I’m tired of being weak. I want to be strong on the inside and out.

I took the train to my first boxing class today. I was early and the doors were locked when I got there and my mind began to panic as it does. I thought about turning around and going home. But I knew that if I went home, I would never come back. And I wanted to go through with this.

A girl my age showed up with her bike five minutes later. She asked me if I was there for the class and then another woman showed up and waited with us.

They asked me if I’d ever done boxing before.

Nope.

Any type of martial arts?

Literally never.

I just wanted to do something to better myself.

Our queer boxing coach, River, got there and we went upstairs. She put “Gender Neutral” signs on the bathrooms. Changing in the men’s room was far more exciting than it should be.

River wrapped my hands in rainbow wraps and walked me through the class, beginning with a warm up of jump rope. The last time I tried skipping was in my parents basement over Christmas, but it hit the ceiling so I stopped.

We went one by one through the five of us during warm ups and said our names, pronouns, and why we were there or why we liked boxing.

I’ve stayed away from gyms because they’re totally intimidating. I’m not passionate enough to do yoga. And I don’t swim. I never really thought I’d like something like boxing, but I did. It was challenging and scary in a good way.

I was completely out of breath doing crunches with one of the girls, but she told me, as I came up to punch her gloves with my gloves, that all of them had been there. I asked how long before I don’t feel like this, like completely out of shape and totally crappy. She said about two months. If I keep going 3 times a week, I should see improvements within two months.

I’m in. I’m totally in.

The middle of April is two months away. And ten weeks on T.

I’m excited to see how my body changes while on drugs and fitness.

A Moderately Big Word with Even Bigger Meaning

Commitment.

A two month commitment. To be each other’s something or other for two more months.

Let me explain.

My favorite comedian John Mulaney is coming to Vancouver on the 21st. So obviously I got tickets to go with my roommates and one said roommates boyfriend and invited the guy I am currently …

seeing?

We fought over whether he was gonna let me pay for him or not, but obviously, after a back and forth of flirtatious texts, I won that battle. I’m super stoked not only to see my favorite comedian, but to get to experience it with my friends and …

person I am seeing?

I thought that an event taking place two weeks from now would be a big step in this … whatever this thing is that is happening between us, but then he ups the commitment by asking me to go see a musician he likes in April.

Whoa, that’s quite the commitment, two months from now,

I said.

He laughed it off, not realizing what I meant. But I said yes and now we have plans for April 7th. Which happens to also be the day of my first post-T doctors appointment. I’m not freaking out because I don’t like commitment. I’ve always been a serial monogamous dater. I love being in a place that may turn into a … relationship type of thing. I’m simply trying to be guarded with this one. I’ve rushed into all my previous relationships and they all ended … well just ended.

This guy is special. It’s different with him. I want to see where it goes on it’s own without forcing anything or having a huge influence on it’s course of action.

I’m totally stoked to still be intrigued by him and be surprised and captivated. He’s one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met and I’m not even stalking his Facebook cause I want to learn everything about him, from him. I’m trying not to think too hard about this one. I’m trying not to make plans or ideas and get ahead of myself. But I want to be around him as long as possible.

I took him out for his birthday and we cuddled in the movie theatre and it was perfect. I crave more moments like that from him.

Go Back a Couple Years

I get to start taking testosterone injections in 17 days for the rest of my life. Unlike a lot of trans people nowadays it seems, I didn’t always know I wanted to do this. Nor did I know this was even a thing. Considering I didn’t even know what being transgender was until I was about 21.

I wanted to share a journal entry from 2 years ago that helped in leading me to my decision. A lot of people will say that taking T won’t make a difference, you’ll still be the same person. But that isn’t true. I won’t be the same person. I’ll be a happier, more whole, and complete person.

I’m ready for the changes that lay ahead. Though I’m scared, obviously, it’s exciting because I get to be who I always suspected I was.

I wish I had known where to find people like me when I was first uncovering myself. But I was living so deep under a mountain that it was impossible. I guess I just want other people to know that it doesn’t matter what age you come out at, or what you choose to define yourself as. There are a lot of people in the same boat and circumstance as you and you’re never alone.

It’s cliche to say it gets better. For any person, it never becomes perfect, but it gets a little less difficult to live with. Just fight to be yourself and don’t be afraid to doubt yourself, because that’s when you uncover truths about you that you never knew before. I’m still uncovering facts about myself that I didn’t know know before, like I’m pretty sure I’m maybe definitely bisexual. Or at least masc-sexual, which is a term I am defining as being attracted to masculine transmen and cis-men.

So anyways …

August 26, 2012

Why do I want to be a gay boy? If I had to be a girl anyways, why wasn’t I just made a gay girl? What is it about being a boy and being gay that I want so badly? It isn’t going away. I’m afraid that if I continue to live like this, I won’t really be living. I do still think about suicide when it gets too hard to handle. I don’t like that I think about that.

I hate that Ian on Shameless is my favorite character just because he’s gay. I feel like that’s weird. That’s the reason why I wanted to watch the show in the first place. Every time he’s on screen I find myself staring at his hair.

I try to remember that being bigender, I get to be both. But do I really? I’ll never actually be a physical boy. I do think about the whole transition process, but would I really feel any different? Would I feel more at home in my body? What do I feel now? Sometimes I don’t feel anything.

Sometimes I feel distinctly boyish and I feel trapped. But I’ve never felt girly or overly girly. Does that mean I don’t want to be a girl? If I wear clothes like a boy and want to act and feel like a boy, then shouldn’t I have the body to go with it?

I think about gay sex more than I should. More than I think is healthy. What does that mean? Do I want to have gay sex? I feel it right now. That boy part of me taking over control. Thinking about what he wants and what he never gets. I could technically already have sex like that if I wanted, but I don’t want it as a girl.

What if I’m never happy? What if none of my questions are never answered?

A part of me feels like I can’t be with Daniel until I figure this all out. It isn’t fair for him to be with someone who doesn’t know or understand who they are. Or feel comfortable with who they are. And what if I can’t have babies? Then what? Other than falling in love with Daniel, what was the point of being born a girl? It all drives me crazy. I don’t know what to do. I’m at a loss.

Why do I feel like a boy who can’t come out?

What am I going to do?

Stephanie/Sam

At the time, I was in a very serious, committed relationship. I experienced different things than other teenagers around me, and missed out on what they were doing. I never got to experiment with my sexuality and through the years, I discovered that giving in to my gender identity as a man would mean I wouldn’t get to marry the man I was in love with and have a family with him. I suppressed a lot of those emotions for years and it was making me sick.

I’m glad for every little thing that has ever happened to me over my life because it all led to this day and this year and these decisions. And this year I get to grow through puberty all over again and it’s going to be weird, but exciting, for me and everyone around me.

Trans Dating

I’ve never been alone for this long. I’ve always had someone to share my life with and I don’t really know what to do with myself being single.

I’m just sitting in my room with a glass of beer and listening to The Rural Alberta Advantage.

Which, don’t get me wrong, both are great, but neither is gonna hold a conversation with me or cuddle me at night.

An exchange of comments my friend and I made while she freaked out about her date this coming weekend started me thinking. Like, I’m constantly thinking about it because I’m forced to, but being transgender in the dating world is really tough.

I suppose that goes for any demographic when you’re the minority, but man, when I really stop to think about it, it gets depressing. And then I get depressing.

I think I repress a lot of what happens in my life. Would explain why I didn’t come out until I was 22.

She was upset because she didn’t think that he would like her once he met her in person. She told me it’s easy for me because I’m a nice person. But I told her that that isn’t worth shit when it comes down to whether or not the person I like, likes me back sexually.

And it sucks an unbelievable amount to have admitted that. Because all I want is to have a person who is my person and to be able to share things with them. I have a lot of love to give and sometimes it just kills me that I don’t know where they are in the world.

I want to cook dinner with someone and cuddle someone and bring them flowers and be all romantic and crap.

I think I’ve mentioned this a time or two before, but I find myself questioning my sexuality all the time now. I wonder if I’m just attracted to masculinity as opposed to biological males. My entire Instagram feed is all cats and trans dudes in their transitioning states and there are a couple I follow who are just gorgeous. It makes me want to explore this whole other world that I’m a part of, but have shied away from.

Dating sucks. So I’m going to write about it.

Dating as a trans person is hell. So I’m going to come out of it with bruises and battered knuckles. And then I’ll write about that too.