Rewards

Back in the Supermodel Era, Linda Evangelisto used to say that she wouldn't get out of bed for less than $10,000.

I remember being a kid and thinking a) $10,000 is a lot of cash; and b) she's got a lot of chutzpah.   Growing up in Downey, CA I probably didn't refer to it as chutzpah.  But I thought that she must feel very highly of herself and that she should because she's achieved something that everyone wants to be or look at.  She was a Supermodel.

I loved those Supermodels.  Her, Naomi, Cindy, Christy…I could go on.  The cover of British Vogue from 1990.  I was in Washington D.C. when that came out, on my school's east coast college tour.  Incredible.

Even though I don't have friends who are supermodels, I know people who feel the same way that Linda felt.  I've accomplished a lot in my life already, I don't have to deal with that bullshit.  And I can't really disagree with that.  I understand where they're coming from.

I've also been obsessed with this idea, which I've been reading in the spiritual books I've been reading lately.  To paraphrase:

You can only claim your labor, not the fruits of your labor. 

It's from the Bhagavad Gita.  It's a revolutionary idea.  Especially when living in a town where it's all about chasing the reward.  And what we're really talking about is expectation.  When you expect one script, one audition, one event to change everything it's hard to ever feel like you're succeeding.  If everything around you says you failed it's easy to give it all up because you feel like you aren't getting anywhere.  And in Hollywood, where my great fortunes lie, I'm constantly told where I fit in accordion to the hierarchy according to what project I'm not pitching, what job I'm not getting or what power agent isn't beside me.  It's even harder when I have friends who have been nominated for Emmys and Pulitzers and other awards and acknowledgments.

So where does that leave me?

I have a dear friend who has had a lot of success lately.  There's a lot of buzz around this friend.  Yet, nothing has materialized in terms of money or a job.  This friend made a very Evangelistian comment about not doing work for free.  There was an organization what wanted a treatment for a project being proposed.

I have another friend who just had a bad audition.  This friend was coming off of many years on a show as a series regular.  This was the first time in years that this friend had to audition and it was driving this person mad.  The circumstances of the audition had little to do with the performance or the effort given.  A casting director had personal problems and had given my friend the wrong direction for a call back.  There was no turning back or making the situation better.  It was out of my friend's hands.  And yet, my friend felt responsible because this actor is always prepared, always ready, always meeting with an acting coach for every audition.  This actor did the work, everything that was required.  There was nothing else to do.  Yet, this actor felt like a failure.

I've been thinking a lot lately about how I connect to my sense of success.  I have asked myself the question: "Is the award the reward?"  Or is the work the reward.  I had been kicking around Hollywood for awhile after graduate school and wrote spec after spec.  Nothing was in my voice.  It was just material to qualify me for a job.  And I was looking at this work personally.  I felt like the work should say something about me.  And when the work got rejected or unnoticed, I felt like the failure was personal.  Even when I had a script that people liked, which happened at least with two scripts across the board, nothing happened.  I got some meetings.  I got some attention.  But no jobs as a result.  After all of this rejection, I kept telling myself that I just wanted to write.  To have the opportunity to do the work.

I remember something Whoopi Goldberg said years ago.  She basically said that if someone's goal was to be a working actor, that was easily attainable.  Just go out and act.  Do plays.  Be in friend's film projects.  You might not get paid, but you'll work.  If your goal is to be famous…well, that's a much more precarious goal.  That may or may not happen.

I worked for a wonderful husband and wife show running team a few years ago.  They were both incredibly supportive of me and my work.  They felt I had a great work ethic and great taste.  They wanted to mentor me in my goal.  Our pilot never got picked up to series.  But I showed them how good I was.  And I remember the husband told me once, "Hey, do I think you've got what it takes to work in this business.  Yes.  You should be working in this business.  You're smart, funny, interesting and talented.  Will you work in this business?  I don't know.  I can't say."  And that has stuck with me for years.  Yes, I have what it takes, but will the planets align in that way for me.

But I have done what it takes to be a working writer.  I write every day.  I watch films.  I research projects.  I write sample pages.  I write treatments.  I write outlines.  I have conversations about projects.  I have meetings.  I report to my office most days between 10-6.  And if I'm not in my office, it's because I'm doing work that supports my writing.  My therapist told me a couple of years ago that whether or not I'm getting paid, if I'm writing regularly, I'm a working writer.

Yes, I could wait for some producer to pay me or some executive to develop a script with me to define myself as a professional.  Or I could do the job I want to be doing--now in an office--and write.

And yes, I am writing for free right now.  If you count the rent on my office space, I pay to write.  But I'm glad to.  I know that every idea, every outline, every treatment, every discussion, every new script is making me a better writer.  There are two forms of payment I get from writing.  I get paid money.  And I get a psychological paycheck.  I feel accomplished.  I feel valued.  I feel worthy.  I feel active.  I feel like a writer.  And that is important is well.  If I'm only looking to write when someone's going to pay me, I'm just a writer for hire.  And since the hiring is up to me, I'm not getting to write that often.  I write for myself every day.  I have a bookshelf with research materials.  I have an accordion file I keep with notecards for all of my current projects.

I am a production office.
I am a writer/producer.
I go to an office every day and I write and produce.
I take meetings.
I discuss new projects.
I pitch ideas.

Isn't that exactly what my goal is?

But I have no network, studio, or outside production company paying me.  Does that mean it doesn't matter?

People are fond of saying that they love what they do so much that they would do it for free.  The truth is, I don't know that many people who would do it for free.  I understand that we all need to make a living.  But I don't know if that's just directly from writing.  I teach.  I'm starting to consult.  My primary goal is to have an income to support my ability to write every day.  And just because I am not getting paid right now, doesn't make it a hobby.  I'm a professional.

And just because I would do it for free doesn't mean that I only want to do it for free.  I love every project I'm working on right now.  I know how to sell it.   I know how to sell myself.  But whether or not something sells isn't in my hands.  I can only do my best.  I can only go into meetings prepared.  I can only explain myself well.  I can only write a treatment that gets people interested.  I can only write what's in my heart and use my command of the craft of my full advantage.  That doesn't mean my projects will sell.

I started out writing as a kid to make sense of the world around me.  And now I feel like I am back to that original mission.  That's success to me.  I didn't care about getting paid as a kid.  But I did it every day.  I had something to say.  Writing was of consequence.  Getting rich isn't enough of a motivating factor any more than looking hot is a reason for me to get to the gym.  Working out has to have a purpose.  If I'm training for a marathon, for example.  If I'm trying to clear my head.  If I'm trying to be healthy.  Those are great reasons.  But pure vanity isn't.  And pure ego isn't a reason to write.

I'm not saying that I succeed in this mission every day.  But that's where my target is.  The reward is the work for me.  I am lucky to have so many ideas that they wake me up in the morning and put a smile on my face and get me going.  They wake up my soul.  My creativity awakens things within me.  That's so much more of a reward than a new sweater or a car.  Honestly.  The car breaks down eventually and the sweater gets pills.  My awakened creativity only increases in value the more I use it.

But it's hard to see that when everything that indicates success in this business is because someone else tells us that we're good. Or when we get a check.  It's hard to reach a place of stillness to know that our success isn't based on that.  But that's the place I'm working toward.  I don't want to be miserable.  And I don't want to stop writing because I've placed my power in someone else's less capable hands.  Or everyone's less capable hands.

I am grateful for ideas.
I am grateful for knowledge.
I am grateful for love in my life.
I am grateful for support.
I am grateful for my ability to be still and know.