What others say about me

"What you say about yourself matters very little, but what others say of you means the world."
-- Hugh Halter, from his book, Flesh

I don't sleep well. On a good night, I'm asleep within an hour of going to bed. If I wake in the middle of the night, I'm usually a couple dozen tosses and turns from my next dream. During the day, I can close my eyes, but rarely do I get past the "whoa, did I just doze off?" stage of slumber.

Why? Is it too much caffeine? Too much sugar? Too much excitement in my life?

Um. No.

It's because I can't shut my stubborn brain off. My thought control skills are on pace with Johnny Manziel's common sense skills. Below remedial.

If I'm not navigating creative waters, I'm treading the depths of self-doubt, God-doubt, and why-did-I-eat-so-much-ice-cream-doubt.

One prevailing narrative is the questioning of my value. Regardless of what Clarence taught George Bailey, I still find myself sinking into questions about my purpose.

On a micro level I know my kids need me. I believe my wife needs me. Still, it's hard not to consider the life my wife could have had with a more successful husband. A more stable husband. Someone who accepted his role in the blue collar world or maybe white collar world. There's nobility in working hard to bring home a paycheck.

But that's the thing. Man am I working hard. So hard that I'm getting burned out.

"I'm so busy" is a phrase that's thrown out almost as much as "Whatchoo talkin' 'bout, Willis?"

More? Yeah, probably more.

I don't expect everyone reading this to believe me when I say I'm working my tail off. After all, what do I have to show for it? I should share my tax returns here to really humiliate myself. By my calculations I've made about $0.27 an hour over the last 10 years. I made that number up. I'm too busy to calculate it for realz.

We're a results oriented society and the results just haven't been there for me. My family has suffered because of this. My ego has suffered because of this (which is technically a good thing, I know). And there are times I lie awake wondering if the worst is still ahead.

But the question prevails.

Why?

Why have I been allowed to work so hard for so long and not see the results I'd expected -- dare I say -- deserved?

I don't know. This silly little blog that I started before blogging was "in" (I think blogging is actually "out" now thanks to SnapChatteragram or whatevs) was supposed to be an inspirational account of one man's journey of overcoming the odds to prove that dreams really can come true.

If you didn't read that last line in your best movie trailer voice, here's another chance...

One man's journey of overcoming the odds to prove that dreams really can come true.

The late, great, Don LaFontaine,
king of movie trailer voiceovers (born in Minnesota!)

I've developed a counter theory to all of this now. I don't know if it's any truer than the former, but it's something I'm gnawing over. In the middle of the night.

What if my story is the anti-dream-following story? Despite Joel Osteen's claims, not everybody gets everything they want if they just believe it to be true. Maybe God needs me as an example that safety is sometimes the best route. Maybe my story is supposed to inspire in a way that contradicts my original intention.

If that's my reality, all I want is for people to say is that in spite of adversity, I am a hard worker. A good father. A worthy husband. A faithful servant.

Of course, that's all I want people to say about me regardless.

But the hard worker part is particularly sensitive to me these days. Really, I'm starting to question if the work I'm doing is useful. All the hours of research, networking, and creating -- are (were) they all worth it?

If I give up my Hollywood dream, I don't care if people assume it was because I wasn't talented enough. What I do care about is if people think it's because I didn't work hard enough for it. They'd be wrong on both accounts, but there's a sense of pride in hard work done well. I feel I've done that. And that's the example I want to give to my kids, my family, my friends, and anyone with whom I interact.

I don't know why God has me on the path He has me on, but I so desperately want to be an inspiration to everyone around me. Yes, I have an everybody-must-like-me complex, but my people-pleasing curse isn't driving my concern of what others say. It's simply that I want to be a positive influence. Not for my sake, but for the sake of the greater good.

But what does it matter what I say? What matters is what others say about me. Am I giving others reason to call me a hard worker? A good father? A worthy husband? A faithful servant? Regardless of whether I make it in Hollywood or not, at this point, all I care about is representing my faith in a pleasing manner to God.

And, really... is Hugh Halter's quote accurate? Does it matter what others say about me? Well, on a macro level, no. What matters is whether I am pleasing God. Where Halter's quote comes into play is that if we are pleasing God, by default, others will say good things about us.

Uphill

"This hill goes on forever!"

Says I when I run in the hills overlooking the Santa Clarita Valley.

"It's a good burn!"

Says I when I near the top.

"What? That's NOT the top?"

Says I when the road winds around a corner and my muscles turn to undercooked cheesecake.

"Stop talking to yourself."

Says I when people give me weird looks.

So I'm here in Los Angeles(ish). Actually a little north. But only a half a podcast away from the places I need to go. Well, the places I hope to need to go.

But as I laid out in my first post nearly seven years ago, my journey was never specific to geography. So while I've technically made it to Hollywood from Minnesota, I am still a long ways away.

But I'm closer than I was seven years ago. Seven months ago. Seven weeks ago. At least I hope I am.

I've still got a lot of big hills to climb, metaphorically and literally. Seriously, running in my neighborhood is brutal. If nothing else, living out here is going to get my quads back into shape.

I can vouch for the views at the top of the hills. They're amazing. Dry. But amazing.

So as I continue to climb uphill, I remind myself that the view from the top is worth it.

Believe!

"I know that sounds like a cat poster, but it's true." -- Vitruvius

The optimist inside of me believes I have an amazing Hollywood career ahead of me. Unfortunately my inner pessimist keeps pinning the optimist down, sitting on his face, and launching lethal butt missiles.

Dare I say that the optimist is finally fighting back? Finally emerging from the pessimist's cheeks? Finally launching a few weapons from his own turret? He's always had his moments, but they were too few and far between to really give the pessimist a run for his money. Or his gas mask.

Now is the time for the optimist to fly like a kitty and heed the words of a master builder. It's time to prove I am special by building myself up and destroying the blocks in my way. Today I will construct a new outlook and Lego of the deconstructive attitudes of the past.

Tomorrow I will stop overusing references from that one movie about those little block-like things.

Can you feel me?

Let's have a little inspirational session. Just you and me and a few people that have accomplished a thing or two in their lives. Hopefully we both feel better after this virtual hug fest of pastel colored unicorns and strawberry flavored hope.

Some say that Francis guy was a sissy, but I think he was a saint. If these words of his don't fill you with at least a hint of fuzzy warmth, don't bother reading any further; you're not my target audience.

No matter where you're at in your career, there are necessary things that have to be done. Some of them can be done today; some can be done tomorrow. But they must be done if you expect to get wherever it is you want to be. Much to the chagrin of many who are starting out in the world of screenwriting or acting or directing, there are no shortcuts.

Are there lottery winners? Sure. But not many. Most overnight success stories are actually years in the making. They begin by doing what's necessary (education, practicing one's craft), then doing what's possible (networking, practicing one's improved craft), and finally achieving the impossible (worldwide stardom, private jets, and fancy macaroni and cheese).

By the way, does it really need to be stated that if you're in this for worldwide stardom you're never going to be satisfied? Okay, good. We're on the same page.

Next quote. By a palm tree. How nice.

Even if sports are to you what common sense is to Justin Bieber, you know the name Lombardi. I'm pretty sure half the streets in Green Bay are named Lombardi Street or Lombardi Way or Lombardi Favre. Oh, and the trophy for winning that bowl that's really super is named after him, too.

Vince Lombardi inherited a team that finished with one victory the season before he took over. Under his tutelage, the Packers won seven games the following year. That was 1959, long before NFL teams changed dramatically from year to year with free agency. In other words, the team that won a single game in 1958 was pretty much the same team that won six more in 1959. Lombardi knew what he had and he got more out of it than anyone expected.

My point? I don't know. Something about Legos I think.

Nah, my point is that we all come from different backgrounds, carry different baggage, have different privileges and shortcomings. Yes, plenty of people get their start in Hollywood because they have an "in" while those of us with zero built-in connections pound on door after door only to be pelted with double-edged razor blades and anthrax balloons.

I exaggerate. The razor blades are single-edged.

Still, rejection hurts. Actually, rejection would be a welcome reprieve from the silence that follows so many attempts to reach those on the other side. We can lament our misfortune of being born into blue-collar flyover families, or we can just work that much harder.

Let's combine the quotes from St. Francis of Assisi and Vince Lombardi:

"Start by doing what's necessary with what we have."

It's so important to have a clear understanding of what we have and what we can do with it. I've spent so many years letting my inner pessimist have his way, sulking in my lack of money, connections, and support (another topic altogether that I'll maybe get into at some point).

I finally had to recognize what I do have -- talent, telephone, Internet, books, magazines, podcasts, support (not from everybody, but that's okay!), family, friends, shelter, food, and water.

And gum. How fat would I be if I didn't have gum?

With libraries and Amazon, we have access to more books than anyone could ever read about acting, directing, writing, producing, editing, and everything else involved in making movies. With iTunes, we have access to dozens of podcasts featuring Hollywood insiders who are already experiencing the success we want to have. With the Internet, we can locate the e-mail address and phone number of every agent and producer from here to Timbuktu. I can't tell you how many letters I've written to Al Gore thanking him for inventing the Internet.

Okay, I can. Zero.

The point is everything is awesome when we're living our dream.

Wait, no it's not. The Lego Movie lied to me! I feel like such a blockhead.

Awesome or not, there are plenty of things we need to do before we can realize our dreams. I will keep reaching out. I will keep writing. I will keep acting. I will keep learning. Over and over and over again.

We can't expect to see tangible progress every day as we pursue our dreams of being a consistently working actor, director, or screenwriter. But at the end of each day, we should rest on our double-decker couches and feel satisfied that we did something to get closer to achieving our dreams. Whether we listen to an educational podcast, read something, reach out to someone, write a few pages, or spend twelve hours on set, we need to take time every single day to further our career.

Not every seed will grow and those that do will do so at different times. But if we are patient and continue to plant them, one day we will reap a harvest more bountiful than anything we could ever have imagined.

Believe!

You'll have to excuse my friend. He's a little slow.

"It takes 20 years to make an overnight success." -- Eddie Cantor

I'm almost there! And in the words of hydroelectric schedule makers, "It's about dam time."

I've been acting professionally now for about 15 years. All that means is that I was first paid for acting when I was 22 or 23 (maybe 24? 25?). I played a rancher in a Cub Foods commercial. No lines. Only a few seconds on screen. But I got paid for it.

I wrote my first screenplay more than ten years ago. The next one I wrote, just a year later (and with co-writers), was optioned. Cockily cashing the small option check, I figured, was just practice before cashing the bigger checks just around the corner. I could almost taste the nectar of my blossoming screenwriting career.

The option expired and the movie was never produced. Bummer.

So I wrote and produced my own feature-length movie back in 2008. We secured distribution and the movie played all over the world. But nobody liked it. Drat.

A couple years later I wrote a sitcom pilot that I shot and released on the YouTube channel I co-founded and built around what was then the most watched online video ever. The channel earned me a few hundred bucks and almost as many headaches over the couple years we maintained it. D'oh.

Now I have a movie making the festival rounds, or I should say, making the festival application rounds. We were accepted into the first festival to which we applied but then rejected by the next. Now I wait on more than a dozen other festivals' decisions to screen or not to screen my latest labor of love that I wrote, directed, edited, produced, and played a lead role in.

Over the years I've created and produced dozens of my own projects, and acted in at least a hundred movies, commercials, and industrials for others in Minnesota and Los Angeles. I've written nine feature-length screenplays (and started 326 more, give or take), a couple television pilots, and three angry letters to Home Depot.

Actually, only two angry letters to Home Depot. But they deserved more.

Oh, and this awesome blog. How empty would the lives of you three pity-readers be without this blog?

Has any of it gotten me anywhere? Really? Have my efforts amounted to anything more than a side job or hobby? Will all the time I've dedicated to this career be worth anything when all is said and done? Am I really any closer now than I was 15 years ago?

All along this oftentimes painful journey I've never quit running. And I never will. I can't. No, seriously. I'm at the age now that if I stop running my muscles cramp up and it takes me a day to get them going again.

Momentum keeps building. I still believe that one day I will sputter into Hollywood on my hoggish scooter, Samsonite briefcase full of dreams clutched to my side. I'm nothing if not a dumb dreamer.

There are times I feel like Lloyd Christmas is talking about me, not Hairy Dunne, when he says, "You'll have to excuse my friend. He's a little slow."

I feel slow. Like my four-year-old's response to, "Dinner will be ready in a half hour," I'm slumping my shoulders, hanging my head, and moaning, "Ohhhh, it's taking fooooreverrrr!"

The challenge for me is to appreciate all that I have accomplished instead of kicking myself for not accomplishing more. This journey isn't what I expected, but every part of it may be necessary to one day become an overnight success.

I Want it All (And I Want it Now)

"Don't aim for success if you want it; just do what you love and believe in, and it will come naturally." -- David Frost

There's an episode of The Simpsons in which Homer buys a burrito at the Kwik-E-Mart and Apu tells him it will be ready after 60 seconds in the microwave. "But I want it now," Homer whines.

Yep. I'm Homer.

Why is it so hard to wait for my burrito?

Cuz I'm hungry.

And the only satiation for my hunger is a film career burrito with philanthropic salsa and a side of refried social activism. Of course, I wouldn't mind washing it all down with a financial security margarita.

Here's the thing. If I really want the burrito, I'm going to make it myself. The homemade version may take longer than its microwave counterpart, but it's bound to taste a whole lot better.

I've been working on the recipe for more than 15 years and I think I've finally concocted the right mixture of blood, sweat, and tears. And beef. As in beefcake. Cuz I work out and stuff.

Anyway.

Aside from my weekly self-loathsome breakdowns -- my most recent one was triggered by reading this earlier blog entry (five years later and I still haven't achieved the goal I set forth there) -- I'm more motivated and optimistic than ever before. That burrito is cooking and soon I will devour it.

But for now, I'll do my best to follow David Frost's suggestion of just doing what I love and believe in and allowing success to come to me naturally. After all, I wouldn't want to be stuck with a Monsanto burrito, right? You know, unnatural. Cuz I want success to come naturally.

At least I have a future in running metaphors into the ground.

And the future of this blog will refocus on more specific experiences in this non-cullinary journey of mine from Minnesota to Hollywood. There will still be salsa. There will always be salsa. Especially when the chips are down.

Limitations: Recognition vs. Acceptance

"Don't let what you cannot do interfere with what you can do." - John Wooden

Somebody once commented that Michael Jordan couldn't hit a curveball with an ironing board.  His .202 batting average during his one year stint in the minor leagues certainly doesn't press a wrinkle into that claim.

The greatest basketball player of all time failed as a professional baseball player.  He let something he couldn't do get in the way of what he could do (better than anybody else on the planet).

Or did he?

MJ had conquered the NBA, so who's to blame him for nurturing his inner Bo Jackson and Deion Sanders? He couldn't have known definitively he wouldn't break into the bigs without giving it a try.  And, truth be told, hitting .202 in AA ball is better than 99% of the rest of the world could do.  But minor league baseball wasn't his goal.

The Michael Jordan that returned to basketball after his ill-fated MLB experiment was not the same Michael Jordan that left after his third NBA championship.  He still led the league in scoring three times, but he relied more on jump shots than high-flying, rim-attacking highlight reel plays that defined his younger-legged days.  He wasn't better or worse; just different.  He, as much as any player before and since, understood the difference between what he could do and what he couldn't do.

The creative world is no different from the athletic world in that limitation recognition is key to achieving success.

On the other hand, limitation acceptance is a sure way to fall short of your hopes and dreams.

The solution?

Operate in the present within your limitations with the goal of stretching those limitations in the future.

To paraphrase the late, great John Wooden, don't bog yourself down with your current limitations.  They don't have to be limitations forever.  Do what you can now; it may be more than what you could do in the past and less than what you'll be able to do in the future.  What seems impossible today may be routine tomorrow.

As for those limitations that are here to stay, use them as motivation to excel in other areas.

I struggle.  I want to be able to do everything now.  As I've written before, there are times I loathe myself for not pursuing acting right out of high school, for not moving to LA when I had the chance, for not quitting this crazy dream years ago when I nabbed my sensible bachelor's degree in elementary education.

But loathing myself is stupidly counterproductive.  I'm in a good place with too much for which to be thankful to second guess the path I've followed thus far.

The biggest limitation in my career is simply access.  Hollywood is a tough nut to crack and with so many crazy squirrels trying to get through the shell, it's no wonder the industry isn't welcoming outsiders with open arms, especially ones from flyover country.

I mentioned in my last entry that producer Gary W. Goldstein (Pretty Woman, Under Siege, The Mothman Prophecies) is running a Kickstarter campaign for a new guidebook for newbie film producers.  The campaign ends early Friday (May 24, 2013), so now is the time to jump in and take advantage of some of the cool rewards he is offering.

I had the opportunity to ask Mr. Goldstein what advice he would give to writers/directors/producers living outside of LA and he said, "Move."  He was kidding, but he went on to say, "If you choose to stay where you are to create a career, it is tougher [to break in].  This means you have to take each of your relationships very seriously because you can't simply walk around and make new ones.  You must keep in touch with your network and contribute to the relationship authentically and regularly even from a distance.


"Also, on a regular basis, fly to LA with a plan to network, almost like you'll be going on first dates with some and maintaining long distance relationships with others."

Living outside of LA certainly limits one's ability to network to the fullest, but with hard work and directed efforts, geographic limitations can be overcome.  It takes disciplined persistence and full commitment in researching and learning about the people you'll be reaching.

And thick skin.

An excerpt from Gary W. Goldstein's upcoming book reminds Hollywood outsiders that the path isn't paved with gumdrops, lollipops, and rainbows:

"My failures or obstacles have been a constant for as many years as I can remember.  I've become a black belt at failure, and that's paved the way for my successes.  It's up to you how you classify or view any moment or event.  Every film I've ever championed was a failure many times before I ultimately got it produced.  For every film I've produced, there are another six or ten films I failed to get produced; I invested years of my time, plenty of money, and a big piece of me in those as well.  There are films I worked on for years and years before it became absolutely impossible, legally or financially or practically, to get that particular film into production.  Until that moment I arrived, I never quit.  Never."

And despite my present limitations, neither will I.

When you got a job to do you gotta do it well

"Whatever your life's work is, do it well.  A man should do his job so well that the living, the dead, and the unborn could do it no better." - Martin Luther King, Jr.

The regular delivery of my neighbors' mail in my curbside box is annoying, but tolerable.

Watching her clench a letter in her lips before putting it in my box is gross, but not deplorable.

The breaking of my and my neighbor's mailbox flags is a nuisance, but I suppose it happens.

And the time she refused to bring a package to my door last winter because I hadn't yet shoveled the inch of freshly fallen snow from my walk was flabbergasting, but I got over it.

But now she's making Newman look good.

My neighbors and I do our best to clear the snow from the curb beneath our mailboxes, but our latest powdery cloud dump left a pile of white fluff that was admittedly an inconvenience for the stubby little truck with the steering wheel on the wrong side.

An inconvenience.  Certainly not an insurmountable obstacle.

After a day without mail, we received this note:

As did several neighbors.

Just the note.  Not our mail.

Our lovely carrier managed to get to our mailboxes to drop these notes but opted to keep our mail at ransom.

Oh well.  Not the end of the world.  I had intended to make a clearer path anyway.

So I did.

And did she deliver our mail the next day?

No.

How 'bout the next?

Nope.

I finally got to the post office and explained my displeasure.  I wasn't alone.  Nor was I offered an apology or an adequate explanation.

Turns out the carrier, that very day, delivered a package to my neighbor's door and explained that the snow wasn't adequately cleared.

Luckily, my local newspapers are delivered via Sherman Tank so they're able to get through the vast dam of snow - nay - frozen rock without leaving behind tactless notes.

Was there a time when people would do their jobs without manufacturing excuses and blaming others for their decision to underperform?  Or have we always been this lazy and unappreciative of actually having work?

There are countless folks who would absolutely love to have my postal carrier's job.  Is mail delivery a life passion of many?  Probably not.  But it's a job.  A good job.  With benefits.  How many people don't have that luxury?  And here is a woman who refuses to bend an inch when saddled with even a minor inconvenience.

What is this rant's relevance to a blog supposedly centered on a guy's journey from small-town Minnesota to Hollywood?

I'm glad you asked.

Well, I'm glad I asked.

In my efforts to establish myself in the entertainment industry, I have been burdened by more than a Crayola crayons' box worth of menial, uncreative projects or parts of projects.  Putting finishing touches on a video of drying paint in the middle of the night isn't exactly living the dream, but doggone it, I don't want to phone it in on anything.

(For those literalists out there, I've never actually done a video of drying paint.  It was a metaphor.)

The end results - drying paint videos or otherwise - don't always prove I gave my all, but it's not for lack of effort.  I have a hard time investing anything less than 100%.  Usually.  I mean, sometimes I vacuum lazily or buy canned chicken stock or run at a slower pace than I'm capable...

I digress.

My point - no, really, I have one - is that work is a privilege and should be treated as such.  And lest I write myself into a corner here with implications that I really am committed 100% to everything I do, the full disclaimer here is that I'm reminding myself to appreciate any work I get.  If it helps pay the bills and buy Barbies and Matchbox cars, it's a blessing.

We don't have to love what we are doing, but whenever we have something to do, we should be thankful.  As Harry Connick, Jr. croons in Hear Me in the Harmony, "There's a whole lotta hard workin' people that could take my place."