Don't Believe the Hype

My friends and I have had conversations lately about the topic that all out of work writers bring up when hanging out together:

When's it going to happen?

And honestly, there's no way to know that. It doesn't help to know that there's no way to know. It's frustrating and plays into our need to control. As writers, the whole reason we started writing is that we wanted to change the story. We wanted to rewrite our stories the way we would have them turn out. So to find out that there's no control over what happens to us and our careers feels like someone took a big dump along the path to our success that we can't help but step in. And every moment we're on that path we're constantly reminded of that lack of control because of the footprint and the stank of that poop that follows us. And even once that smell is gone, it's the memory of the smell and the footprint that we have no control and that there's nothing we can do.

I'm in this place in my life where I understand that worrying does nothing. You get the job whether or not you worry. And you don't even have to stop worrying to get the job. That does nothing too. You can be at a high level of freak out and the anxiety has not gotten in the way of your focus and you get the job. Some people believe that's a part of the process. But here's what I know now that I didn't know three months ago:

Whatever level of anxiety you have when you walk into the writer's room increases at least tenfold once you start working.

Substitute "first break" or "first deal" or "first opportunity" for the writer's room. Yes, anxiety might not stop you from getting that opportunity, but it will certainly be a massive impediment from you getting as far as you want to. At the very least, it will slow you down. And anxiety is just a shitty state of mind to be in. I meditate. I have preached a life of mindfulness and stillness. And STILL, I walked into that writer's room and it brought out every insecurity I have. Sure, my insecurity is less than it used to be. But I had prided myself of getting rid of my anxiety. If anything, getting this first writing gig made me aware of how much work there is still left to do if ridding myself of anxiety is a goal.

Now that I'm happily in the middle of my process of the first job, the next question that attempts to squash that happiness appears: When's the next job happening? And instantly, I'm back to that worry and that proverbial waiting for the water to boil moment. One of my closest friends, also a writer, and I were talking the other day about how stressful it is to wait for our representatives to do something. And I said something that was meant to be helpful about how you can't stress and how you should focus on the good things that are going on. By the way, as well-intentioned as that sentiment is, you just end up sounding like the asshole who doesn't have to worry because he HAS a job. I've been on both sides of that conversation. And usually the person giving the advice - in this case, me - has a big smile on their face, which is supposed to be positivity. But really it comes off as being smug.

Yet, it's true. You have to focus on the work no matter what. Even when shit is presumably going well.  Late last year I had a reading of a new play that I had developed at this theatre company in town. Everyone was saying how great the play was and that it was going to be picked up somewhere by some development organization or by another theatre for production. Even though it felt great to have those positive responses and I felt strongly about the way, I had to shut down the noise. I had been down this rabbit hole before. I would start believing the hype and then I'd have this expectation after sending in the twenty-plus submissions to illustrious places like the O'Neill, PlayPenn, and Sundance Theatre Lab waiting for my moment. I'd be certain that this is my shot - that I had written a bulletproof play, that it was my best work, so that meant that the world had to love it. It's not enough that I love it because I need MASS ADORATION. Then I would be paying attention to those deadlines and I would spend three hours on each personal essay - just to help my chances, but knowing that the essay could be shit because the play is so brilliant. Then I'd get increasingly more and more disappointed as the rejection letters came in because I was so certain this was it and then I'd go on a diatribe over several drink dates with several different playwrights talking about how the American Theatre was shit or that I was just ahead of my time and would be appreciated posthumously. They'd nod and agree because they love me and are my friends and we've developed co-dependent relationships over the years. Or I'd secretly get mad at them for getting my hopes up months earlier when they talked about how this play was going to take the theatre by storm - they never said that by the way, but that's what I interpreted and it still feels better to let someone else take the blame.

No, I had to shut the shit down. So I started a new play. I had a play I knew I wanted to write. My big reading was in September. I read the first ten pages of the new play some time in October, I believe. I went back to that humble place of feeling vulnerable. Of being scared that I had written something awful. I went to that place of being brand new over again and having no expectation. That's a great place to be because that's really the place I live and it's the place I need to live - starting over. Being in the work and not paying attention to what anyone is saying, good or bad.

I walked into my writer's group that morning and got confronted by the guy who organizes our writer's group, who said he loved the play before I had the chance to share it with the group. That was sweet and it settled my nerves a bit. But the encouragement helped me sit through the first 19 pages of the play being read. The play is bold and it's very exposing. It was also a 180 from what I had done previously. That got me excited to keep going and I finished a draft of that script in February, still bringing in pages to my writer's group from time to time. Now it seems that the company wants to do a workshop/reading of the play after reading the first completed draft.

All of that feels good. It really does. I'm not so unhealthy that I can't appreciate and be thankful for any nice thing someone says about me and my work. But now it's on to the next thing. I have a play rewrite for a reading that's happening next month. I've barely started the rewrite. I'm going to be on deadline this week for my second episode outline. I've got to go in the room and be present and pitch ideas. In the middle of all of this, I was teaching and I produced a 24 hour play event for my students. I just finished grading seven 30-page one act plays. I just turned in an employee manual I was editing and that payment is going into a fund for my new computer, which I can't buy until late May when Mercury is out of retrograde.

There are always good things going on and bad things going on. The key - and what I aspire to - is to keep moving no matter what. By the way, that play that everyone loved is seeing no love so far from the greater theatre community. All rejections so far, no semi-finalist or finalist status. And maybe the American Theatre IS shit and knows nothing. No one knows anything, frankly. But that play got me this job and my new manager. And even if it hadn't gotten me anything, I love it. I'm proud of the play anyway. I'm proud of the work my director, dramaturg and actors helped me with in getting the play to wear it needed to get. I'm grateful to the theatre for providing me with eight months of development. Without that opportunity none of the stuff happening now would be happening. It helped my work ethic. It helped me see what was possible in my work. It taught me a shit ton about the importance of selecting the right team.

The thing I am trying to focus on is the experience. All of these opportunities are helping me work better and making me more skilled as a writer/producer/theatre artist. I now know how much work it really takes to do the things I've talked about doing. The path is getting clearer and clear, which makes me focus stronger.

I am grateful for my writing job.
I am grateful for everything that has happened in my life that has led me here.
I am grateful for good friends and good conversations.
I am grateful for discipline and patience.