Wednesday, February 1, 2017

Scene of the Crime

Yesterday, I went back to my grade school alma mater and spoke to fifth through eighth graders at Career Day. It was weird walking along those halls that haven't changed a bit since I was at school there 30 years ago. I talked to students about my life and career. It seems weird to be able to talk about a career when a year ago, I hadn't yet staffed on a TV show. I was about to nine days later, but a year ago it still hadn't happened. I think I had interviewed by this point. And I was hopeful.

We did a sort of speed dating thing where groups of kids went around from table to table to chat with each alumnus. I probably talked to about 12 groups and my voice was hoarse when I was done. But I found a format that worked in 7 minute increments. I started out with a question.

What do you do for fun?

Read (the proper answer)
Play Video Games (the real answer)
Sleep (when you have no answer)
Watch TV
Draw
Cook
Eat

Then I went around and asked them another question.

If you could get paid to do the things you do for fun, would you take that job?

YES. Always yes.

Then I explained that my answer would have been "read comic books, watch TV and draw." I was a creative, imaginative, in my own head kind of kid. I had an optimism that allowed me to be delusional and ignore the name calling I faced every day. I reflect on it now, but at the time, I just kept going. Then I tell the kids that I turned what I love to do into a career. I write because I learned story telling from the comic books I read and the TV I watched. I made up stories with the characters I drew. I always was telling stories of some sort on paper.

As the groups would come through, I would tell my story and engage them. They seemed interested. What I do for a living seems like fun to people. I get it. I couldn't have engaged a group like that when I was a kid. I was painfully shy. I saw some of those shy, creative kids come to my table yesterday. I saw their eyes light up and stay laser focused on me as I told my stories. I recognized the inability to ask questions, but to have a laundry list of questions in their head. I know what it must feel like to go home and say, "Why didn't I ask my questions?" I was that person.

But for me to say to them, "This is how I made a career" is remarkable. I have a career! That's the big revelation. I'm actually doing this. I had a career before I got paid - I have to remember that too. I was listening to Marc Meron's podcast yesterday and he was talking to a music manager about success. That when you're at something for awhile, having some success helps you along and keeps you from being bitter. When you get some success, you realize how fragile it all is and how it can go either way. I am grateful for my level of success.

It has made me want more, however. And I have bigger dreams to dream now. I have more impossible things to conquer. When I was 14, it would have seemed impossible to write on a TV show. Actually, it would have been impossible to leave my hometown. I couldn't imagine going to school in LA - where the rich people live. But I did that. Then college was another impossible thing that I conquered. Then moving out of California. And then moving to New York - the city I had always wanted to live. Then getting into NYU. Then getting a full scholarship. Then moving back to LA to pursue TV writing. And that seemed impossible for a long, long, long, long, long time. But I kept at it. Because - as many creative people have said in the countless podcasts I listen to - you have to be delusional. You have to be believe that you're going to do it. If it works out, it's vision and goal setting. If it doesn't work out, it's delusion. It's probably delusion either way because it's a relentless belief in one's self. I'm delusional. And that's what has pulled me through.

So what else can I be delusional about?


  • I'm going to run my own show someday.
  • I will sell several scripts.
  • I will have lots of money and opportunity.
  • I will have a loft downtown.
  • I will drive a Mercedes.
  • I will travel the world.
  • I will produce my plays.
  • I will write more.
  • I will write better.
  • The best thing I've ever written is ahead of me. 
  • And when I've written the best thing I've ever written, the best thing I've ever written will still be out there for me.
It's like marathon training. When you start out, you say "That's the farthest I've ever run." Then the next week, it's the same thing. Then on and on and on and on until you go on a 20 mile training run. Then a 22 mile training run. Then you run the marathon. That's how this goes. It's the best thing I've ever written until the next time you write the best thing you've ever written. But you don't try to write the best thing you've ever written. You just do. Again, it's like running. All you have to do is put on your shoes and go. All I have to do as a writer is sit in front of the computer and go. 

I have bigger dreams now. And I'll accomplish those bigger dreams just like every time I set a new standard for myself. Those kids took me back to where I started dreaming. And as things feel more complicated with my life and the creative work I do, I needed a reminder - You got this. Because to them, I've already done the impossible. 

It's like those lyrics from "Merrily We Roll Along" - 

How did you get here from there, Mr. Shepard?

What was the moment and where, Mr. Shepard?

What did you have to go through?

My intention is reflection.
My intention is growth.
My intention is the next impossible thing.
My intention is expansion.

I am grateful for the moments to reflect.
I am grateful for the ability to share my journey and make it seem less impossible.
I am grateful for the work I've done that has gotten me here.
I am grateful for the life I am leading.
I am grateful to be able to ask the question, "And now what?"

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