In this conversation of Professionals and Amateurs, I think about a friend of mine who I saw today. We haven't really seen each other in awhile. She went to graduate school at USC over the time we saw each other. The person I met for lunch today seemed a bit more relaxed about the business. She seemed like she knew more about herself and more about her work. She seemed like more of a professional than she was when we last were hanging out. I was happy to see the change in her. She needed discipline and got it in graduate school. It was always clear that she was talented. Now it's clear that she's got the drive and work ethic to get where she needs to get to.
I was thinking about her in terms of looking at the qualities of a Pro and an Amateur. We've all been at that place where we had "raw talent." Some of us felt like we needed to be so excellent and a prodigy right away. And we got frustrated when that didn't happen. When I was a kid, I was just used to being funny looking and not smart enough. I suppose I got used to working hard that when the results of my work started happening, I never really thought - "Now I'm amazing." I kept working. And even when I had a moment in graduate school where I felt, "Wow, this is it", I still got my ass handed to me.
Here's the thing: You have to be an amateur in order to grow into a Professional. You have to start trying and then you have to decide how serious you're going to take it? Will it become a vocation? Or will it stay a hobby? I had a friend in college who was one of the most naturally gifted actors I had ever met. But she didn't want to keep working at it. She wanted it to all come to her. And the actors who worked at it got great. And she moved on to do other things. I know that she has come back to acting and I'm sure has seen her craft grow. But I would get frustrated that a bunch of my college friends would kiss her ass because she was more talented than they were. I wasn't an actor, but I knew that she had a natural gift I didn't feel I had. But I also knew that I worked at my craft. It made me angry to know that she wasn't working her craft hard and that she was resting on talent. Nothing made me more pissed off than that. She was an amateur. She had these grand ideas of how things should go.
Anyway, whenever I re-read this chapter, I think of her. She pulled the pin early on. I think of many friends who believe that a natural ability entitles them to great things happening. Great things may never even happen for people who work really hard. And some times people who don't work at it get rewarded. Life isn't fair. But I have no patience for people who don't put the work in and expect everything to come to them. I really love the work. It's my favorite part. That's no bullshit.
Let's Hear It for the Amateur
Amateur life was exciting. It was the time when I had these grand ideas of how everything would work out. That was my 20s and part of my 30s. When I was in college, I first discovered that I had something that resembled talent. I tried things and failed all of the time. But I loved it so much. I realized I was a theatre geek early. I knew that I liked these weird people. But I couldn't act. I tried and tried, but I didn't like how self-conscious it made me feel. I questioned my voice, my face, my body, my hair. It was torture. However, I loved dancing and it didn't matter how bad I thought I was. As long as I could emote with my body and not talk, I was fine.
Once I started to get better at things, I had all sorts of opinions about how good someone was. I guess that's the way you start to separate yourself - "I'm more talented that
she is." I was bitchy in graduate school because I thought my talent made me a better person. I started to identify with the gift - and that was a good thing for awhile because I grew up not sure if I would ever be good at anything. I was starting to see that I was good at something and it quickly turned from pride into bitchery. I thought being a good writer made me better than other people. Understandable, given the fact that I was a kid who didn't think he was good at anything and didn't have a lot of friends. People liked me because I was talented. I started to see myself as a writer - and my value rose and fell based on how good I was. It's good to have a sense of value. But it's also a dangerous line to balance.
I didn't realize what an amateur I was until I read
The War of Art. At a certain point, it wasn't about being the most famous or the richest. I was out in LA for a long time and I just wanted the opportunity to write. I remember Whoopi Goldberg saying something once about acting, "If you want to be a working actor, that's easy. But if your goal is to be famous, then that's a more precarious situation." I'm paraphrasing. But I realized that I wanted to be a working writer. And Whoopi was right. That was easy.
That's when I started writing all of the time. I always wrote. I always banged out at least one or two scripts a year. But that wasn't nearly enough. And I was working a full-time job, so that made it difficult. But I needed to pay the bills. Especially when I moved to Weho with my then boyfriend, I had to keep my job. I couldn't just take time to write all of the time. But once my situation changed, then I had time to make writing my number one focus. And it has been a struggle. But I had no choice, I had to write. The desire never went away.
Even though I was an amateur for so long, I really loved writing. But I was caught up in the glory I'd get from it. Yet, that was also the thing that kept me going for a long time. I realize now that the place people quit is the moment before they turn Pro. Once they realize that big dream's not going to happen - they're not going to win the Oscar/Tony/Emmy/Grammy/Pulitzer/Nobel Peace Prize they stop. But that's the moment where you get the call to turn Pro. The call is:
How hard are you willing to work for it? And that call only comes because you've stopped working as hard as you can work.
I lived in such fear. Pressfield says that the big fear is that you'll succeed, not that you'll fail. And I can say that I was worried about what would happen if I left behind my family and everyone I knew for this goal. That was the main subconscious obstacle that held me back. FOR YEARS. What I realize now is that maybe I needed to find a new tribe. Maybe I need to find Professionals.
The Competitor
I had to win. I had been bullied and made fun of my whole life. I had to "show them." And them was just about everybody. I made myself tough in order to compete. I had the "Eye of the Tiger" and the movie of my life would have several training montages. Although, a writing montage would be pretty boring. I made everybody my enemy - not literally, I had a lot of friends and I seemed to play nice. But I saw everyone as something who would get in the way of my success. So as I saw people give up and fall away, I would take pleasure in that because I knew that I had stuck it out. I was better than anyone who gave up.
Then I believed my own hype and I started not working as hard. And during that time, my "competitors" kept going at it. They had less ego than me. And they started succeeding. And the world started to notice. And then I was the one who felt like a loser because I wasn't getting what they should be getting. And I thought the world was unfair. I felt the world was laughing at me for thinking that I could possibly be excellent. But it wasn't excellent I was after. It was "noticed", "famous" and "rich."
Excellence would come later, once I got over myself and once I stopped competing.
Instant Gratification
I thought my ship would come in no more than a year or two after I moved to LA. And the ship would have come in, if I had gotten on it. I had an agent interested from a good agency. And I put my fortunes in the hands of a manager I thought was looking out for my best interest. And that ship sailed. For years, I would look back on that experience as my big Fuck Up. This agent wanted me and loved my samples. He wanted to try and staff me right away. But my manager said to wait. And then he never followed up. He thought we could get a better offer. And then it went away. That's when I learned the big lesson to not give my power away to anyone. Well, I didn't really learn it
then. I learned it after working for this manager for seven years and being with a toxic boyfriend for five of those seven years. And then my Dad had to die.
I was at my lowest low. I thought I had missed out. If only I had…
I realized that if I just looked at my life as missing the one opportunity that got away, I would truly be a failure. Around this time, I was miserable. I had hit rock bottom, even though I didn't know it yet. I didn't care any more about being a big famous writer. I just wanted a staff writing job. That's it.
I wrote three plays that year. Then I wrote some specs and some spec pilots. All bad. Most of these spec pilots would take me a year or two to "get right." I had no instinct. I still had a level of raw talent, but nothing was clicking. What was I doing wrong?
I went to work for someone else. I knew there was a "professional polish" I didn't have. I didn't walk into a room with the confidence that people who had been working had. I knew I had to be more than just a good writer with promise. But I didn't know how to make good on that promise. So I kept writing, because I couldn't do anything else. My Dad got sick and I wrote to keep my sanity. That seemed like a good reason to write. Then my Dad died and now I was writing with real purpose. By this point, I had stopped thinking I knew everything.
I was a full-time writer. I was a working writer. I made no money from writing.
I don't even remember what the big decision was or the turning point. But I was writing all of the time. I didn't have another job. I was scraping by. I would teach here and there. But I wasn't making any money from writing. At some point, I decided that I would write no matter what. It didn't matter if plays were produced or if I made a living as a staff writer. The work would be the reward. That didn't mean I stopped working hard because I didn't have a goal to be a professional staff writer. I still was competitive. I still wanted to be good. But I didn't feel like I would die a failure if that never happened.
Around this time, I fired my manager. I didn't want to be beholden to anyone. I wanted to know that I was on the right track because I said so. I didn't want anyone's opinion. I felt like I had lost myself as a writer and I was working to get my voice back. Or to maybe find it for the first time.
I had been in LA for a long time by this point. And nothing was happening instantly. I was writing and loving it. I now had a community of other writers - I was starting to be recognized by professionals. People now saw me as the guy who worked harder than anyone else. I didn't know if that was true. I didn't look in my rear view mirror enough to find out. I kept going. Around this time, I realized I was happier than I had ever been - poor and writing.
I had turned Pro.
Compassion
Around two years ago, when I had the office, I was doing some meditation work. That meditation that day was about compassion. I had a revelation. During my Dad's illness, I took care of him. I was fond of saying that I had offered compassion to someone who I felt never had it for me. I said that a lot. I thought it sounded enlightened. But I had never thought about what that really meant. During that meditation I did. And I cried.
Because I realized that I was more forgiving and nicer to myself. Once I could have compassion for my Dad, I was able to have compassion for myself. And I was being good to myself. The Amateur thinks that he has to be hard on himself to do well. He doesn't have patience or compassion for himself, so of course he doesn't have it for other people. That was me.
I see other artists who make themselves suffer relentlessly because they're hard on themselves. I used to think that if I wasn't hard on myself, then I wouldn't achieve. My Dad was hard on me. Then I became hard on myself. Letting go of my Dad was letting go of this vicious cycle of negative thought. I was so grateful that I had moved past a real blockade for myself that I cried. I was free.
The Past and the Future
I idealized the past. And I knew that the future would be better for me. Once I started meditating, I could be in the Present. It's such a cliche.
Live in the present. I didn't know how to do that for such a long time. I felt like I had lost the ambitious person I used to be. And I thought that future success would save me. It'll be fine to fuck up my present because the future is waiting for me - I've been chosen. That's how I used to live. And now I know that I have to be here now in order to be there then.
The Amateur lives in the past and the future. When I read this for the first time, I realized how long I had been an Amateur. My friend who has been having a lot of problems lately is an Amateur - not because he's not talented. But because of this definition. All he does is relive the past in his head. I have some friends from college and grad school who get together just to talk about how great things were in the past. They want to talk about the productions we were all in or the plays we wrote. For a long time, that made me feel good because I felt the best days were behind me. Something in me knew that it wasn't over for me - it
couldn't be over. Now I realize that it could have been over if I had decided it was over. And it's not over because I made that decision too. I can feel my friend struggling with these feelings. He's having such a hard time and those of us who know his struggle feel bad for him. I don't know if he's going to get out of it. He's a good guy. He's an honorable person. But that doesn't mean that he's going to get past it.
Pressfield says that the Amateur will be ready tomorrow. Amateurs make excuses. My friend has made a ton of excuses when I've offered help. It's easier to make up a reason why you can't do something rather than doing it. As Pressfield says, the Professional's fearful too. But the Professional pushes past this fear, which is often greater because he realizes what's at stake.
No One Is Smarter Than You
Bethenny Frankel believes this. I now believe this. How did I learn this lesson? My Dad was in the hospital and doctors were telling us what to do. They had the white lab coats, so the assumption was that they knew what was best for him. They didn't always. As Amateurs, we can often give our power away to others who we feel are experts. We do this all of the time with anyone who works at a network or studio or sits behind a desk. They don't know more than us. Skinnygirl Margaritas would not exist if the liquor business knew more than Bethenny Frankel.
I would have never had a senior showcase. I would never have had a production at a small theatre in the West Village. I would have never done all of the things I've done producing theatre, getting meetings, and getting out of my small town if I believed everyone knew more than me. I wouldn't be involved in a theatre company. I wouldn't be getting ready to direct a workshop next year. I would have never finished the play that got me my manager and TV gig if I had listened to other people who claimed to know more than me. Some of them believed it, too. I pissed a lot of people off because I wouldn't relent. And you know what, I didn't get into trouble for it. I spoke up for myself and I didn't get in trouble for it. I also have stopped asking permission to do things. And you know what again? I haven't had to ask for forgiveness either.
I'm working with a new manager. He's a great guy. From other people, I hear that he does not want to be a dramaturg. He does not want his clients to constantly ask for constant notes to complete something. He wants you to do it and then he'll comment. He wants you to figure it out. And if he likes it, he'll send it out. If he doesn't, he won't and you'll move on to the next thing.
At first this frustrated me. But then I realized that it was the right approach. And there's no pomp and circumstance when he decides to send something out or not send something out. Either you hear about it or you don't. It forces his clients to keep writing. I don't need his permission or approval. I don't need to give my power away to him. And he's not asking me to.
For so long, I wanted a guru and a mentor. I would say "I don't have a mentor" when I saw friends who had famous writers as mentors. For some people, that works. For me, I just ended up without any real mentors. I have my first playwriting teacher, but we haven't talked in years. He's a great guy, but he's not interested in being a guru, even though many people have tried to make him that.
Professionals don't give their power away. It has taken me my whole life to learn that.
What Happens When We Turn Pro
Life gets simple. Everything else falls away - if you listen to what the Universe is telling you. When I turned Pro, certain friends left me. I had a friend who was jealous and picked a fight with me. I had another friend who was superficial and was mad that I wasn't bullshitting in my life anymore. I haven't talked to either friend in over two years. And it's better that way. They both have successful lives and careers, but they weren't the right people in my life. People got weird when I turned Pro. I can feel that judgment that I'm working too hard that's behind certain complements. I don't worry about it anymore. I'm not afraid to charge ahead. I'm no longer worried that people are going to think I'm better than them. I know I'm not. But I have to be the best, truest, purest version of myself and I can't dampen myself to blend in. I'm a sore thumb.
And in another way, nothing changed. I kept working. I didn't grow horns. I didn't instantly get the dream job. I had a work ethic. I had a practice. I had consistency. Again, the rewards were the new habits I was creating. The outside rewards come and go as they need to. But it wasn't like the Universe gave me a windfall of great things once I turned Pro. Once I turned Pro, life continued as usual. The jobs and the opportunities would come years later. The Universe had to know that I was in it for the reward of hard work and not the fruits of that hard work. I'm learning that the fruits don't mean as much as the work itself. That might sound crazy. It didn't happen overnight.
I have a real routine now. I go to bed by 11 or 12. I get up by 7 usually. Or a little earlier. I have my tea. I check my emails. I meditate. I should meditate first, but if I don't wake up a little bit I fall asleep during my meditation. I have the same thing - sweet potato hash browns, protein and two sunny side up eggs every morning with guacamole - for breakfast. Sometimes I have a little bone broth as well. Then I start answering emails or I pay bills. I do my business stuff in the morning. Then I get to work around 10 - I take off to the library or I find a spot to work for the day. Then I come home for lunch - or bring it with me or eat out - and then I do the second part of the day. I have an actual lunch break. I treat it like work because it is. Even if I don't get work done that day, I sit down and make room for work in my day. Sometimes I get together with friends to write. Sometimes I have meetings. It all depends.
Pressifeld says that Professionals recognize other Professionals. When I turned Pro, I realized that all of my friends were now writers - professional writers and Professional writers. Now, I have my theatre company family, my playwright family, my TV colleagues and other accomplished actors, directors, writers and producers in my life. I'm only surrounded by Professionals. I have a lot of people on the periphery, but it's hard for me to extend myself to people who are not Professionals.
I have better concentration now. I have less distraction. And THAT change has really only happened in the past year. I still get distracted. Resistance is still there. But I give into it less. I don't follow so many boys into the steam room like I used to at the Korean Spa. I sit on a lounger with a lap top on my lap and I keep working. I still get depressed. I still doubt myself. I still procrastinate and put shit off. But I also get back up and don't get discouraged, even if it takes me a week to finally hit my stride again.
My friend David said to me the other day that it seems like I don't worry any more. I talked about this in a previous post. But I think it means that he's seeing my Professionalism. He's noticing that I don't let things get in my way. I have a job to do and I do it - come rain or shine. It's not great every day, but if you're at it every day, a few bad days here and there don't matter.
Crafty
When I turned Pro, I really wanted to perfect my technique. I knew that if I wanted to ready for a staff job, I had to start working at that pace. I couldn't just be a good writer. I had to be fast, efficient, and an idea machine. I had to simulate working conditions. I started meeting friends for writing dates when I knew I couldn't just do it on my own. I took an office. I treated writing like my job. Even after I had to give up the office, I still treated writing like my job. And then writing became my job.
I don't stop. Even getting that first staff job made my writing so much better. I'm a better more efficient draft writer. For my next job, I'm going to be so much better than I was this time out. Even in writing the two pilots I worked on this year, I was able to take those drafts and figure them out quicker. Teaching has made me more efficient as well because I'm teaching those techniques constantly. It's reinforcing what I know. When I go to the next writer's room, I'm going to be so much better. Also, if the next writer's room is my own writer's room, I'll have great practice. Because I run my classroom the way I would run a room. It allows me to scrimmage.
Epiphanies
When you have an "a ha" moment, it usually hurts. When you move from one state of mind to another, there's a big seismic disruption. It's a 9 on the Richter scale. Every time I've gotten to a higher state of efficiency or consciousness, I had to bleed for it. But then the scars made my skin tougher and they've given me more stamina. But like the song goes, "There won't be trumpets…"
You have to keep going.
My intention is growth.
My intention is widening the net.
My intention is expanding the circle.
I am grateful for stamina.
I am grateful for focus.
I am grateful for friendships that keep me on my toes.
