On the Peculiar Anxiety of Getting Really, Really Close

Last September I was let go from my position as Senior Writer at Pocket FM, the job I’ve posted about extensively without actually naming the company. Because I couldn’t. Because there was a clause in my contract that said I wasn’t allowed to say anything about them that wasn’t nice, and rare was the day I had something positive to report. Now I am unbound by that contractual limitation and free to say whatever I like. And boy do I have some shit to say.

But I’m not going to. That’s not what this post is about.

Instead I want to talk about what I’ve been doing since, how I’m on the precipice of something really great, and how absolutely nerve-racking it is to be standing on that cliff.

Prior to the mouth breathing troglodytes at Pocket FM laying off me and nearly every other writer in the company, I had been quietly developing a Christmas-themed project that would be in the style of a Hallmark film, but catered specifically to the Pocket FM audience (such as one exists). This was done of my own initiative, not assigned by a Pocket exec, and known only to me and my immediate supervisor, who thought the idea was a home run and was very supportive of my working on it. Needless to say, when word came down that everyone was getting the axe, I no longer felt inclined to deliver those taint-sniffing pudknockers a money-making show.

But in talking to my (now former) supervisor–who also was let go–we began to think that maybe we were onto something with this whole Christmas project idea. We realized that between the two of us we knew enough people connected to Hallmark and other holiday filmmakers that we might have a decent shot at getting a script into the hands of some actual decision makers. So we decided to keep working on the project together, scrapping the idea of adapting it for Pocket FM and instead writing a straight up, by the numbers, Hallmark Christmas movie.

What followed was an epic journey on both the creative and business sides of the ordeal, the details of which I will not bore anyone with. Suffice to say that the path has been anything but smooth: many seemingly sure fire opportunities evaporated, potential inroads wound up leading nowhere, scripts were written, re-written, scrapped, resurrected and duly dragged around various vias dolorosa. Those poor bastards headed to Calvary ain’t got shit on me.

But now, after many months of hardship and doubt, I find myself exactly where I want to be. A polished script (complete with original Christmas song written by yours truly!) is in the hands of the development team at Hallmark, along with three detailed outlines for additional movies. And a prominent exec within the network is in my corner, potentially giving my screenplay the extra little tush push it might need to make it over the goal line.

This is all cause for celebration, and a part of me is celebrating. But it also brings about a particular type of anxiety. Because now, with so much wind behind my sail, if this screenplay doesn’t move forward, there will be only one reason: it simply wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t good enough. And that’s a blow that–should things not work in my favor–will take a long time to recover from.

The usual things I tell myself when something like this doesn’t go my way won’t work this time. I won’t be able to say, “Well, it was good, but maybe it just wasn’t right for the network.” Because writing specifically for the network was part of the assignment. I mainlined a slew of Hallmark Christmas movies over the course of a long weekend, parsing each one out so I could nail down the particular formula. (How many acts? How long was each act? What emotional beats happened when? What were the character tropes? And how in crikey fuck am I going to write a movie where no one swears?!?!) The goal was never to write a good movie, it was to write a good Hallmark movie. “Not right for the network” won’t be consolation; it will be condemnation.

And the ripple effects of a greenlit script go far beyond a single project. My understanding of Hallmark is that they’re a network that likes to form working relationships with talent. So a successful pitch now could portend much more work down the line. It could also be a golden opportunity to snag an agent, which (hypothetically, at least) could open other avenues for me beyond a single network. I’ve been around the business of show long enough to know that opportunities like this don’t come around very often. When they do, you damn well better hope you can rise to the occasion. (“Shut up, Eminem! This isn’t your cue to start singing that damn song again!”)

So this is where I am, mentally and emotionally speaking. It’s Schrodinger’s pitch, both greenlit and passed on, and I’m staring at the box, waiting to see which way things will go.

If only I could have been really, really passionate about doing taxes. The life of a CPA seems far less fraught.