Twelve years ago I was sure I'd write a movie, get discovered by an agent, and have a career. Bing, bang, boom! Ah, what I didn't know then could fill the universe. What I still don't know today could fill several. But what I've learned has been invaluable. At UCLA I met friends I still have, some live just down the street from me and we pick up right where we left off whether it's been two hours or two years since we last talked. Some live across the country, have moved on to different jobs, and I click like on their babies' photos on Facebook and exchange birthday and Christmas cards. Some I cry in front of, others I only share the positive with. Every one of them has been and is so important to me. They have formed me and my path in LA.
At UCLA I learned that the most important part of any story is conflict. That was drilled into me. I had to sign a contract about it and everything. Conflict in every story. In every act. In every scene. In every sentence. It's something I think about daily when I sit down to work: am I writing in the highest conflict available? For me, it's a plumb line when things start to overwhelm me at my desk. But it's also served me well in life. Oftentimes, the important things are discovered and achieved only through conflict. And conflict doesn't necessarily mean a fistfight, at times it's struggle in my brain, or my heart. But conflict is almost always the precursor to a happy ending...which is important to remember as well. Whether I'm at my desk or not.
If you'd asked me 12 years ago where I'd be today, I'd have had some answer about writing movies, or working on a television show maybe. And I'm not sure at that moment I really knew what that meant. And it's certainly part of where I am right now. But I'm also doing dozens of other things. It's researching for hours on end, it's thinking about writing a novel, it's playing with short stories, it's studying crowdfunding, it's opening the big directing books that sit on my desk and trying not to feel overwhelmed.
Overwhelmed but not defeated, that's a key difference. See back in late 2019 I decided to make my first feature film, Love and Embalming Fluid, myself. I decided to direct it and produce it, with help from A LOT of other people of course. In early 2020 I met with several producers, we made budgets, we made plans, I got ready to crowdfund for production and we started talking about filming in September 2020. In Michigan. Making the thing. I was ready. I was excited. I was all in.
And then of course, the world changed. Seemingly overnight. My copy of the producing indies book sat untouched on my desk for months. The envelope of money my friends had already donated to my production fund got pushed to the way back of the shelf. We spent days trying to get groceries delivered to our house, there was no way were were going to be able to make a movie. No one could make a movie under these circumstances. And they didn't. My industry literally shut down in one afternoon. What a thing to witness. What a thing to realize.
I cried. I sulked. I grew anxious. I got mad. I'd finally got some momentum. I'd finally decided I was ready to do this. I could do this. And then the door slammed shut. And there were no windows to open. I stayed away from my desk for months. There was always something else to do. It was a global pandemic for christ's sake.
And then we moved. And that changed so much. And then it was time to get back to my desk. My newly cleaned, surrounded by air conditioning, desk. And I started thinking about the film again. And I got back into my studying. And a thought crept in, amidst all of the conflict, that maybe, just maybe, I could still do it.
Not in September, for sure. Not even this year. But maybe soon. Maybe after all of this. Maybe next year.
And it's that hope, that small glimmer, barely discernible to even myself, that is all it took. All it took to get me to jump back in. To believe. To have faith. That what I didn't even know to dream about those 12 years ago could come true.
I came to Los Angeles 12 years ago to make movies. I've done that already. (Shout out to THE COUCH!) And I'm gonna keep doing that. Embracing the conflict, relying on those relationships to get me through, and knowing that I could have never nor could I ever, do this alone. I've got a community that spans this city and this country (and beyond!). It was my decision to move here to California but I didn't come alone. All of you came with me, all of you are with me every day. I love that, and I need that. That is what that small glimmer of hope feeds on.
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