Lately, I have been going on general meetings out in LA land. This is great. It’s fun. I LOVE driving onto a lot in LA. It’s like that moment at the end of the Muppet Movie… it totally feels like you’ve made it… except you have a visitor’s badge slapped on your chest…but, nevertheless for an hour or so, you feel really important.
And then I have the meeting, we laugh, we cry, we gasp, we gossip, we have an all around good time.
And then… something may or may not come from it. Lately, a whole lot of nothing. Getting into TV is a hard business. And there’s a lot of people who want in, and not a lot of jobs to go around. That’s reality.
Yesterday, I had a good meeting. At least, I thought. I’m not sure. Maybe? I walked out feeling good, but, then I got a few steps and starting thinking…. what happened? Did we just… CHAT?
Because the thing that I wanted to happen, the thing that I really really wanted to happen? “Hey, Larry, we adore your script, let’s make it… here’s $50,000….” That’s what I really wanted to happen.
So, maybe, my expectations were high.
And when I didn’t get handed the check, I started doubting… I started feeling rejected. Because I didn’t get the job, I didn’t get the development deal, etc, etc.
And it’s totally ridiculous. Totally. Just because I didn’t get offered something in a general, let’s get to know you meeting, I’m suddenly OVER as a writer? It’s ridiculous, but, that’s where my brain was going. I couldn’t shake it. At all.
I have no reason to think the meeting went POORLY. We talked for an hour, we got interrupted because she had a phone conference. But, for some reason it just crept into my brain, I did the whole meeting wrong. It was a failure. I’m a failure. REJECTION!
It’s hard to shake those demons. (I have named my demon Brian.)
Now, to be real, to be frank, there’s always a possibility, that yeah, it’s true, I may never get that job, I may never get that $50,000 check…
But, I certainly won’t get it if I stop.
My son wanted to play with me this morning. Like, holding on to me, calling my name. And, at almost two, he is pretty irresistible. But, I had to go back to work. I had to explain to him:
“Daddy had a bad day yesterday. Filled with doubt. He needs to get up off the floor and that means writing some pages. We’ll play later.”
And I marched into the office and put my butt in the chair. And started writing. And it wasn’t a work of genius. Those words… not something I would hand someone. But… I was doing it.
Real or imagined, rejection is hard. And I hate to say it: the only cure for it, get up, start doing the work again.