Unless you’re a born storyteller like me, you might not be able to understand what it’s like to have no choice but to share your thoughts, ideas, and passions with others.
I can’t help myself.
Even with the complete contradictions in my personality, I’m always going to be an open book to anyone who will read my pages. But I also fear that I’m only good enough to write things that will end up on a shelf that no one passes or ever notices at all. Yet, something in me compels me to try. I can’t stop myself from rallying to write and share again.
I’m like a bruised boxer who can’t keep from stumbling out to the center of the ring to take a few more punches. That’s a pretty good word picture for how I feel about my writing career. I’m always somehow getting myself into the ring, and when I do, I seem to be looking for the one time when my opponent’s defenses are lowered enough for me to slip in a perfectly placed jab.
I’ve chosen to be a part of a cutthroat industry that beats people up until one of the battle weary fighters finally lands a punch that no one can ignore. I know I have the winning combination in me; so I just have to keep trying, and forcing myself to show up.
From what I can tell, all writers are a bunch of fearful, insecure people with a lot to say, and a deep conviction that they need to say it. But when you open yourself up to a world that’s got a finite amount of love and adoration for the voice of the storyteller, it’s never going to be easy to find your way. The publishing and entertainment industries are exclusive, and people like me will always feel like the rule, not the exception. Until one day, the right person sees the exception hidden in your words for the very first time…
And, then everything changes.
Something Roy said he saw in me inspired me to jump back into the ring with a defenseless belief that my career still had a fighting chance. I’d borrowed all the fight I had in me to help Lou and me survive for the past several years; but, something about Roy’s belief in me and the story of Eloise Butts suddenly made the risk of fighting a losing battle for myself seem worth it to me again. So a couple of months after we got to Utah, I sent Roy the first draft of my pilot episode. I prayed so hard that it was good enough to impress him.
Turns out… It wasn’t good.
But you should know that Roy never broke my spirit when he told me that he couldn’t show my pilot to his people. He believed in me (and Eloise), he said, but he felt like I just needed some direction and some coaching on how to write a better script. He let me down gently, but I was so low to the ground by that time that any kind of let down felt like the bottom of a sticky and hopeless pit.
When Roy called me to discuss his first impressions of the pilot, Lou was in New York with Henry. The funding for the company hadn’t come in yet, but they were just prepping for that eventuality. I remember when I got off the phone with Roy, I felt devastated, but so thankful to be alone.
I was ashamed and embarrassed for even trying to write a script. But I also felt angry and destroyed inside, and I was absolutely certain that I was deluded to think anything I wrote would ever be successful or good enough. Even the investor deck I wrote wasn’t working for Lou, and so I felt like I was destined to fail him and myself at the same time.
Looking back on it now, I realize I was forcing myself to go to that dark place where despair mixes with defeat so I could completely unravel. I wanted to beat myself up. The only consolation I could find was in beating the world to the punch by telling myself I was washed up and that I was a nothing, horrible writer. I felt like I was exactly like the tone-deaf contestant on one of those singing shows who actually believes she could win the contest — but she ends up being included in the gag reel of pathetic dreamers with no hope of becoming a star.
Rejection is a dark place that I assume every true artist must experience in order to find his or her real voice. It’s painful and awful, but I think it’s necessary. I had to push myself to the edge of the cliff to see if I was willing to jump off of it to find my purpose. After Roy’s careful let down, I felt like I wanted to hurl myself off of the cliff…
