Here’s your shovel. Start digging.

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Sorry for the massive GIF. I just love it.

Have you all signed up for Maggie Koerth-Baker’s Fellowship of Three Things? You should: it is excellent. A very brief weekly email shot of interesting facts or observations from her year-long Fellowship at Harvard. It’s how newsletter content should be – whenever it turns up in my inbox, I am pleased to see it, and genuinely interested in the content.

So this week’s one had an interesting quote contained within it. It’s taken from Ava DuVernay’s Keynote Address at the 2013 Film Independent Forum (you can watch the entire thing here, if you like *cough* Alasdair I know you will *cough*).

All of the time you’re spending trying to get someone to mentor you, trying to have a coffee, all of the things we try to do to move ahead in the industry is time that you’re not spending time working on your screenplay, strengthening your character arcs, setting up a table reading to hear the words, thinking about your rehearsal techniques, thinking about symbolism in your production design, your color pallet.  All the time you’re focusing on trying to grab, you’re being desperate and you’re not doing.  You have to be doing something.  Because all of the so-called action that you’re doing is hinging on someone doing something for you.  

I love this quote. Last year was a tough year for writing (hell, every year is) and not insignificant amount of my time was spent navel-gazing in the most unproductive manner possible. For several reasonably long stretches, I just stopped altogether, because every time I sat down at the keyboard all I could think – all I could hear – was, “not good enough.” More insidious was the follow up thought, “what will people think of me when they discover I’m not good enough?

Weird thing to think, but that’s the human brain and a lifetime of social conditioning for you.

And I was wrong to do that. Yes, I got rejections. Yes, I felt incredibly disappointed. But maybe I could have wasted a little less time staring into the depths of my belly button wishing for validation, and a HELL of a lot less time worrying about what people think of me. I mean, we could even take stock now: my brother gave me a Goddamn kidney. You could not ask for a more direct and concrete proof of your value to another person when they spit out one of their internal organs on your behalf.

I don’t think there’s a resolution to be drawn from this, but I have been thinking more closely on how I react to my failures, my triumphs, and about what I actually want to do.

I want to write amazing things. I want to be better.

So now I’ve got to go and do it.