I trusted my manager enough to turn down an option on my screenplay. To turn down meetings with top agencies. Things I would would never have dreamed of passing on even six months ago. But I trusted in his plan. I still do.
Which is uncharacteristic of me. I don’t normally trust anybody. I visually scan people for hidden weapons in convenience stores. I’m a skeptic. Not a gambler. I take the bird in the hand every time. So why is it– How is it I’m not agonizing every night over whether I made the right decision to go along with this guy’s plan? To the sacrifice of the offers of my dreams.
I think it’s because I really have given up. I don’t care like I once did. I really have lost hope.
These all sound like really, really bad things– Even writing them now, I’m second guessing how this will be perceived. But they’re kind of not.
At the top of this year I resolved to give up the dream. At least as far as making it a full time pursuit. I’ll always write, I suspect, but doing it day in day out, scraping by on freelance gigs here and there– It was enough. It was time to shift gears. Leave the writing to the nights and weekends. Focus on a new career.
I had given up. Made my peace with it.
It’s the only reason I can come up with for why I trust Manager. Because there are no stakes anymore. If he fails to deliver. If he drops off the face. If we can’t manage to raise the 20 million and I never see my script realized… I’ll be no further behind than I am right now.
It would be disappointing. I’m not gonna pretend it wouldn’t be disappointing– But I’ve been down these roads before. I’ve heard the promises. Spend the money; made the acceptance speeches in my head. And now – finally – I’ve given all that up too.
It’s odd how good it feels. I’ll record that here, right now. Because the next time I hit a creative rut or the phone stops ringing on the freelance jobs I’ll probably be writhing in self pity– So I’ll say it right here. Now. It feels good to be at peace. To trust.
As it stands, we’re in a waiting period at the moment. Waiting on money. That’s all anybody waits on. Next week has turned into next month a couple times already. That used to be cause for insomnia. Now it’s if it happens it happens. A phone call here and there while bringing in the harvest. Chopping wood. Writing. On nights and weekends.