It’s hard out here for a wordpimp.
Still working on webseries #1, but webseries #2 was officially rejected by producers. Not that I’m not used to rejection by now – I do, after all, work in Hollywood, where rejection is the basic molecular gruel on which Neo and Trinity survive – but this time was particularly painful because those producers said they really wanted to hear “my voice”.
Well, apparently “my voice” was not what they wanted. Nor was “my voice” a good fit for my last show. It seems me and “my voice” share a little something in common with R2D2 and C3P0: we are not the droids they’re looking for.
(Which, when you think about it, is actually a pretty good thing. Who the hell wants to be a droid?)
But times like these, it’s difficult to keep believing in the worth of your own voice.
To get up every morning and plant your ass in front of the computer for 6-8 hours, for no money, in an absolute vacuum of encouragement or feedback. To not allow yourself to get distracted by Twitter or other people’s blogs or all the extremely necessary articles about Kardashian weddings or how Nicolas Cage is really a vampire. (Though I must admit, their evidence is rather convincing.)
In other words, to just… keep… writing — despite having no clue as to what They (the Great Soul-Sucking They) think they want.
So that’s when I have to remind myself: I don’t give even 1/8th of a shit what They want.
That my purpose in life is not to just sit around and wait for someone to tell me what I “should” be doing.
To remember that I am not a worker bee, some drone fit only for completing tasks others have laid out for me.
To realize that, if nothing else, I am the queen of my own fucking beehive, and if I have to make the honey myself, then by god, I’ll make the honey myself – even if I do turn out to be the strangest queen bee to ever hit the colony.
And lastly, to have faith that, when the Great Soul-Sucking They least expect it…
…my strange honey will blow Their goddamned minds.