Sometimes a Surprise

As told in countless articles, conversations, blog posts and forum whines, writing is a lonely business. A writer sits in a room, alone, interacting through keyboard, recorder or writing implement with imaginary persons, places and things. The writer, odds are, must also manufacture his/her/their own reassurance out of sometimes/mostly imaginary stuffings.

When I decided I was going to be a screenwriter, after one year of writing, I gave myself an award.  

After one long stretch when nothing much happened, I did it again.

Whether my screenwriting was improving, I don’t know. My cross-stitching was.

Over time, my scripts have won awards, placed in contests, had me invited to workshops, meetings via phone and in person, and kept me busy for years.

That’s right. Years. And I think we’re not supposed to admit that.

I kept plugging along, noting it was too late in the day to try to learn something else to do.

Scripts kept placing and occasionally winning, and once in a while, I’d have that talk with myself along the lines of – what is wrong with you, give up already.

Then I had the playwriting digression. I got an idea that clearly was NOT a movie, so learned play format, wrote a play, entered a contest, won the contest and the prize was full production. From that experience, learned about community theater, made enough money to join the Dramatists Guild, wrote a few more plays and surprise, surprise, every one of them (KNOCK WOOD) has been produced. Several, multiple times.

I joked to my family, all these years trying to be a screenwriter, maybe I was a playwright.

What I learned from writing for the stage was listen to the audience. That I could make them laugh and cry and laugh again. That they hugged me on the way out of the theater and shared their life stories. That they thanked me for a story that told the truth.

It occurred to me, finally, I know how to do this.

And if I don’t win the prize for being the slowest learner on Earth, I won’t know why. Maybe I should make myself another award.

So, back I went, alone in the room, writing movies in the middle of nowhere Montana, which in spite of YELLOWSTONE, is still a long way from Hollywood.

Changed one of the plays into a short script and sent it out. Back to my regularly scheduled program. Some disappeared into the ether. Some returned with accolades I duly noted and moved on.

Then a sci-fi script I love, won a new contest, first year with the wonderful title of GRAND PRIZE and a money award. That was nice. I have screenwriting money. Put up a notice – Oh he’s GRAND – because that cracked me up – and moved on.

Then the contest people put up a winner announcement. They had told me they were going to, so I figured my name would appear on a website somewhere in the immersible expanse of the internet and that would be that.

Well. No.

Late last night, before I dragged myself to bed after an evening of trying to stream some show, any show I hadn’t already seen, I checked Instagram and the contest people had put up an announcement of their first grand prize winner with my picture, the information about the script and some really rocking music.

Really, rocking music with a message any creative, artist or worker bee who has dealt with self-doubt should hear right down to their bones.

So, sitting in the near dark, by myself, it occurred to me, I may be mostly talking to and about imaginary people, places and things, but with a story to tell, a writer is never alone.

Because I am currently full to the brim with hubris – here is the announcement broadcast via social media.

 

Reassurance can come out of nowhere in the middle of the night.

 

Never give up.

 

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The contest -- Inciting Incident

The music -- Lenzspot