anxiety

A screenwriter’s 5 stages of grief (contest edition)

Maximum Z anxiety, contest, criticism, determination, encouragement, feedback, screenwriting, script, writing
Five minutes later, he was fine
Any contest email that includes the word “unfortunately” is probably not good

Ah, the screenwriting contest. There are so many out there, and may be the key to breaking in and starting a career.

Once you decide to take the plunge and submit, your brain fills up with visions of your script claiming first prize and all the goodies that come with it – cash and prizes, prestige, connections.

But the sad truth really is that while many will enter, only a select few will win. The odds are already against you, so you do the best you can.

Then the announcement comes, and you’re not on that list. How do you handle it?

1. DENIAL

This can’t be right. My script should be right there. Something must be wrong. Wait. Maybe I just didn’t see it. Let me look again. Are these listed by author’s first name, last name, or by title? Why am I not seeing it? Maybe they just forgot to include me. That happens, right?

2. ANGER

Aaugh! I can’t believe I didn’t make it! All that hard work shot straight to hell! How could they not like this? I’m never entering another contest again!

3. BARGAINING

Please let this be a mistake. I promise I’ll try harder and do better next time.

4. DEPRESSION

I’m the worst writer ever. I’ve got no talent. They probably read this and laughed their heads off at how bad it was. How could I even think I had a shot at this? Why did I even bother? I should just give up now.

5. ACCEPTANCE

It’s all subjective. You never know what someone going’s to like or not like. Maybe the script wasn’t as perfect as I thought. I should probably work on it some more, maybe even shell out the bucks for some professional feedback. It’s not like this is the only contest out there, and there’s always next year.

So what now?

After a little self-comforting (maybe with your preferred substance of choice), you sit yourself down and get right back to work.

*Full disclosure – This is similar to what I recently went through after the results of the Nashville Screenwriting Contest were announced. My script didn’t make it past the first round. Naturally, I was disappointed, but feel better now and am even more committed to writing kickass material. Thanks for asking.

The re-battening-down of hatches

Maximum Z anxiety, confidence, determination, motivation, perseverance, screenwriting, script, self-confidence, story, stress, writing
Hang on. Rough seas ahead!
Rough seas ahead, ride out the storm and other nautical phrases

While I work on cranking out pages, a steady bombardment of updates about other writers continues to flow in.

This person won a contest. That person had x number of downloads on the Black List. Somebody sold a script. Somebody else optioned one.

There are times it can get a little discouraging, but then I remind myself every one of these success stories did not involve the recipients just being handed something.

They had to work, slave and toil away, and that success was earned.

So, as has happened many times before, I sigh, think “Someday it’ll be me,” and get back to work.

We all know this is an extremely tough business to break into, accompanied by an overabundance of heartbreak and disappointment.

But we endure, continuously striving to improve and write something that will not only impress, but go so far as to really knock off anybody’s proverbial pair of socks.

And as we spend the seemingly countless hours making that script as bulletproof as possible, we all need to remember one extremely important thing:  Everybody who has succeeded has been in exactly the same position you and I are in right now.

Success is out there. It all depends on how much effort we’re willing to put in to find it.

Keeping the lines of communication open

Maximum Z agent, anxiety, confidence, encouragement, manager, production company, productivity, representation, screenwriting, script, self-confidence, spec, Star Trek, stress, studio, writing
uhura
Starfleet’s emergency backup plan for when Skype’s not working

Since signing with my manager earlier this year, our back-and-forth emails had somewhat dwindled. It seemed to be taking longer to hear back, and even those brief messages were less than encouraging.

Despite working on the new spec scripts, this, combined with my overactive imagination and requisite writer’s self-doubt, made me convinced that nobody was interested in the script.

And I mean nobody.

*Side note – want to feel even worse about yourself? Seek the opinions of those on a public forum. I think I’m truly done with that.

I needed to do something, which turned out to be sending my manager an email asking if he was available to talk.

Best thing I could have done.

I explained to him how I was feeling frustrated about not knowing what was going on, and asked if there was anything I else I could do to help move things along (apart from keep writing).

He totally understood, apologized for being incommunicado, and gave me the update – who the script had been sent to, including several studios and production companies. One studio had passed, another was still reading it, and somebody at a prodco really liked it and wanted to see what else I had.

We also discussed getting the new specs to him, the potential of one of them with a well-known production company and how he was adding a staffer who’d be more in the middle of all the action.

This ten-minute conversation was able to wash away all my self-doubt, inadequacy and just plain lousyness.

It’s hard enough to get representation, but once you do, it’s not all up to them. These people are busy, so it’s easy for you to fall off their radar. You have to be the one to remind them you’re still there. Don’t be afraid to ask “can we talk?”.

If you have questions or concerns, ask them. As I mentioned, it’s all too easy to let your imagination run wild and start generating counterproductive thoughts. The occasional update chat is the best way to stay positive and keep yourself focused.

Pause, think, act – OR – What’s the rush?

Maximum Z anxiety, encouragement, feedback, goals, motivation, problem-solving, proofreading, query letter, rewrite, screenwriting, script, stress, writing
One wrong step is all it takes to mess everything up
One wrong step is all it takes to mess everything up

As nice as it would be for everybody to get on the ball and work within our timeframes, it just doesn’t work that way. Waiting is truly a necessary evil in this business.

In our overeagerness to get things moving, sometimes poor judgment prevails, despite a pre-established conscious effort – “I’ve seen other people make these stupid mistakes, but that’s not going to happen to me.”

I hate to break it to you, but in one way or another, yeah, that’s exactly what’s going to happen.

But we learn from experience, and move forward, knowing what not to do.

Most of the time.

The spectre of “act first, think second” can still rear its ugly head when we’re least expecting it.

You send out your latest draft, only to then see all those typos you forgot to fix. That query letter to an agent has the wrong name in it. Things of that nature.

Yes, you want to get things moving, but if you don’t slow down and take a good, hard look at your material, then you’re defeating yourself before you even start.

“But this is perfect!” you protest. “It’s ready to go!”

According to you, maybe. Many’s the time I thought my latest draft was the definitive final one, only to find out from outside sources how it could be better.

Don’t think something has to get out right now. It’s going to take time to get a response, let alone have things start happening. Better to hold off and make sure it’s the best it can be, rather than send something out too soon and look unprofessional.

Moving that inner strength outward

Maximum Z anxiety, burnout, creativity, dialogue, encouragement, goals, ideas, inspiration, motivation, problem-solving, productivity, scenes, screenwriting, script, self-confidence, story, stress, writer's block, writing
It may not be as heavy as you think
It may look heavy, but it might not feel that way

I hate hitting a lull. Even the sound of it is off-putting.

“Lull.” Yuck.

Which of course is exactly where I found myself over the past few days regarding the first draft. I thought I was making some good progress, but instead found myself staring at a screen that mockingly stared back.

“Come on, writer boy,” it seemed to say. “Show we what you can do.”

Putting more pressure on yourself combined with the anthropomorphization of electronics doesn’t usually end well. You’re already frustrated, and when the words won’t come, you just want to throw up your hands and do your best Bill Paxton impression.

I’ve been down this path before. I don’t like it, it ain’t pretty, but it’s gonna happen and I accept that.

This is one of those times when you have to remind yourself that you’ve got two options: quitting, which is the easy way out, and totally squashes all the hard work and effort you’ve already put in.

Or you dig deep and force yourself to keep going. Again.

I recently started re-reading my copy of THE FIRST TIME I GOT PAID FOR IT, which chronicles the tales of many successful and well-known writers and how they got started. Apart from some great stories, it’s a good reminder to us outsiders striving to be insiders that even the pros started in the exact same place we are now.

And if you’re like me and want to change your status in that scenario, there’s only one way – keep writing!

I don’t know what the exact trigger was, but the next time I faced off against that blinking cursor and half-empty page, something clicked.

Boy, did it.

The words didn’t just flow – they gushed. It was like a Niagara Falls of scenes and dialogue pouring onto the page. My fingers could hardly keep up with my brain.

Whoa. Three pages in thirty-five minutes? Inconceivable!

I definitely now feel back on track. A renewed sense of what drew me to the story in the first place. Being that much closer to being able to type FADE OUT. And a little more faith in my ability to be productive, even when I don’t think I can be.

Take that, lull.