Ya gotta love any interweb post that opens the way this one does. What? You don’t know what we’re talking about? Read on, MacCurious:
Time for some brutal honesty.
If you decide to be a teacher or an accountant or a lawyer or a doctor or a construction worker or most jobs in this country, you have a clear order of operations to make that happen. You go to school. You get an entry level job. You work your way up. You have a career.
It doesn’t work that way for screenwriters. There’s no prescribed degree that will qualify you for the job. There’s no entry level position from which to work your way up. You have to wave your arms to get noticed, and then you have to hope that what you offer is what someone else is looking for.
I’ve been writing since I figured out what a pencil was, but here I am, a full-grown adult, and still not a paid writer.
Sure, I’ve been validated. I know I don’t suck. I’ve been repped and won a highly rated contest and met with producers who tell me how much they like my writing. But that doesn’t make me a professional writer. It makes me a talented hobbyist.
It’s so easy to get demoralized. Half the time, you have no idea why you’ve been rejected, so you start to second guess everything. Did they think I was a comedy writer? Is it because I’m a woman? Are they looking for something more commercial? Do they not like my snazzy writing style?
Or the worst one of all, the one we all have to face down at regular intervals: What if I’m not as good as I think I am?
What if you’re the kid at the American Idol audition who talks about how amazing he is, then opens his mouth and wails like an angry goat? What if every person who ever told you that you were any good was just trying to make you feel better, or trying to make you shut up, or had no taste themselves, or was making fun of you? What if you are just wasting your time?
You could throw in the towel and go back to looking for a job where your resume and an interview are all you need to get hired, where you won’t be told constantly how amazing you are by people who won’t hire you. It would be so easy.
People do it every day. They leave Los Angeles and go back home, often swearing to return once they’ve gotten their shit together. But they almost never do. Most people take one shot at this, and when it’s over, they fold up their tent and get an office job.
I think about it sometimes. I was a good teacher. I didn’t hate teaching. What if I just went back and made it my career and stopped trying to be something else? That wouldn’t be so bad.
But I’m not there yet.
Before we forget: The cool pic is from The New Yorker. Ya shoulda known, right?