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Recently, as I was perusing a screenwriting web-site (not this one) I happened upon a statement that made me think of the late Dr. Martin Luther King. It was appropriate, February being Black History month. But the tangent it sent my mind spinning on had nothing to do with civil rights, Dr. King, or anything even remotely related. Rather, it made me realize that certain dreams can be quite destructive. Let me elaborate:
The particular site I refer to was that of an organization of would-be screenwriters. These members were very active, supported one another, established resources such as script libraries and speaking programs, and generally had made a good little networking organization for themselves. And yet, there was the inescapable whiff of "hobbyism" to the whole thing. What is screenwriting hobbyism? I'll dedicate an entire column to the subject soon, but I think the concept should be pretty self-explanatory. At any rate, I was looking at an open letter from the head of the organization to the members. It chronicled the man's tenure in his position as president, commented on an upcoming election for new board members and the like, and gave an account of the various nooks and crannies of this surprisingly large outfit. My first thought was, "Wow, when does this guy have time to write?" And then, in nearly the last line of the letter, I saw it.
The "it" I'm referring to was a sentence, something along the lines of '...even though I'm busy running this organization, I'm still pursuing my dream of being a paid screenwriter.' Aha. This man has a dream. And in this dream was everything wrong I had felt about the whole set-up. "Wait a minute," you're saying, "obviously the guy hadn't gotten there yet. So it's a dream. It's a dream UNTIL you become a paid screenwriter."
Maybe. But there was something about this statement that, combined with the tone of the rest of the web-site, made me doubtful that this man's dream (and those of his minions) would ever be fulfilled. It's simply this: No writer I know who ever became professional (myself included) while certainly wishing, before we had attained that status, that we could magically jump there, ever framed their desire as a "dream." That is, we always saw professional writing as our destiny, something that would eventually happen as a result of our hard work and dedication, sooner or later.
Now I don't want to seem like I'm jumping down this poor soul's throat for using the wrong word. But as I said, it was the above quote ALONG WITH everything I gleaned from the web-site and what I knew of the organization. The members of the group (I got the feeling) viewed professional writing as an exotic fantasy, a wonderful, precious notion to be locked away in a bejeweled box, like the dream of winning the lottery, inheriting millions or marrying a movie star. And as you can probably see, these kinds of fantasies don't elicit the kind or hard-nosed work, persistence, and general attitude that will ultimately lead to the desire, dreamy or not, being fulfilled.
No, much better to have an EXPECTATION than a dream, and then do everything in your power to realize that expectation. When a reality is your end-point, a certainty that you create day-by-day, script-by-script, and word-by-word, you're on much more solid ground. Rather than indulging your desire in idle fantasy and speculation, you'll be dedicated to making it happen, no matter what that entails.
So dream no more, not-yet-professional writers. Rather, believe, and then work. Work your asses off. You may no longer have the comfort of a pleasant daydream. But you'll be compensated with the infinitely more valuable gift of forging your own destiny. |
