Fearless

I was in Miami for less than three days, but it felt like a month. Not in that it dragged, on the contrary, it was filled was so much excitement, fear, and emotion—and so little rest—that I staggered off the plane in LAX a slightly-changed man.

I’ve been worried about many things lately. My personality has always been a bit anxious, but the constant waiting has taken a toll on me. More so, I’ve been bothered by the seeming lack of control over my career.

I don’t mean about waiting for Hollywood to give me a shot. I’m referring to choosing which projects I write and where I invest my effort and in what my plans are for the next few years if Hollywood doesn’t give me that welcoming we all dream of.

It feels like my career path is being laid out for me overseas and behind closed doors. And it seems that I am getting updates without all the details. It’s a very scary proposition facing all this because there are decades of work at stake and the film business has always been the only world I've wanted to belong to.

When I left Miami there was no infrastructure for an industry. Hollywood swooped down when it needed a causeway for Bad Boys 2 or South Beach for Ace Ventura exteriors, but the crews and the studios came and went. Almost every film student I knew left town the moment they graduated.

I’ve always dreamed of going back and making movies. Smaller budgets if that’s all I could come by, but films where I was able to display whatever perspective I had on a populous and town that always intrigued me.

I’ve gone home for longer trips, but this one had a stronger impact than any of them. Maybe it was the joy of seeing my mother accomplish turning 70 on Saturday. Or the reality check on Sunday of finding out my father was having heart trouble and was going to be admitted to the hospital Monday morning.

I spent most of Monday in the hospital waiting, and was fortunate enough to be the one that delivered the news to my father: he wouldn’t need surgery if he got his diet and exercise act together.

Last May when we were about to have our first pitch meeting, I learned my father had gone in for an angioplasty—I was a few hours away from pitching at Scott Free, a company owned by two filmmakers that I am a great fan of. The fear of failing was gone.

My perspective had been bitch-smacked. What did it matter if I sold a pitch when I could have just lost my dad?

The feeling now is similar: when life (yours and that of those you love) is so fleeting, why wait around for destiny, or even opportunity for that matter?

This isn’t to take away from anything that’s already happened or the film on the verge of being shot—it’s just a manifesto from this point forward. It’s where my mind is now.

I’m just not going to be scared of pissing people off anymore. I am not going to write scripts I don’t love anymore. I’m not even worried about selling them anymore. Good things will happen. I’ve never been a high-maintenance client and all I ask of my reps is reading scripts when they’re done and sending them out if they think there’s a chance. If the script doesn’t sell, it may have an even better chance of getting made. By me.

I should be able to take advantage of the contacts I have in a city I lived in for eleven years and build my hype and production machine from the ground up.

Before that time comes, there will be requests and meetings and warnings from those who have their interests locked into mine and who feel they are looking out for me. I will have to be fearless and firm. It will be easier after last week’s trip. Even more so when I remember that there are a lot of people backing me up, here and back home.

Anthony just mentioned a saying he heard long ago:

“We are not born with doubts. They are placed upon us.”

I have nothing to fear.