Submitting to Slamdance was like limping towards the finish line — damn being an immigrant and having idioms messed up! Is it “crawling to Golgotha” that I’m searching for here? Anyway, it took every ounce I had to do it.
Why? one may ask. It’s just writing, just a submission. I wasn’t waiting on an elevator to take me to the coal mines. And I write a blog to egg others on. Come on Team! Or don’t come, whatever. I never was a cheerleader even though I was a dancer. Am a happy girl but not bubbly. I like to keep it real even on my blog because the spirit fails the body and even the mind at times.
The mind can be our worst enemy. The good and bad news is that we are our thoughts. And sometimes the thoughts are: ugh! do i have to hear another rejection? when are the fellowships going to be announced? my script is so much better now after the Script Review revisions, i didn’t get jackshit this year! Why didn’t i finish that one feature spec that would’ve been perfect for Slamdance instead of catching up on Breaking Bad and Suits and rewatching Game of Thrones (why’d Ned Stark have to die though i did love Tyrion’s turn this season). Met a random woman who got SAG because she was a dentist a commercial immediately needed while my MFA friends are still waiting for that one more extras job to get Taft-Hartley’d in. WTF?!
So that’s where I’m at. And I still need to workout so drinking midday is out of the question. Sometimes meditation will shut those nasty gremlin thoughts out. Sometimes sweating it out with a good workout. Sometimes, you just need a bit of fermented fruit juice. And sometimes, you need all three.
Despite it all, I submitted. That’s what counts. No one gives a shit as to humming and hawing, the journey — despite what the backstory of the Olympics show. You don’t get that time on NBC for the teary backstory without showing up for the race in the first place.
Show Up. Submit.