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.

Awed Odds

"If you play the odds, there's no reason to ever attempt a career in show business. If you live your dreams, there's no reason not to." -- Bonnie Gillespie

Twenty scratch-offs and six multi-chance match-the-numbers stubs. My wife won $120 worth of Minnesota lottery tickets at a charity event last month. We were both shocked because we never win anything. That's not an exaggeration. We never win. Anything. Even our cribbage games end with us both losing somehow...

So when she came home with two gas tanks worth of lottery tickets, we couldn't wait to get scratching. Don't get me wrong... we knew we weren't going to hit any jackpots, but even if we came out fifty cents on the dollar, we'd be treating ourselves to large sundaes at Culver's... maybe without a coupon even!

We won $3.00.

And really, I'm surprised we won that. Ya know... I haven't actually cashed the one winning ticket yet, so I suppose there's a chance we misread the ridiculously complicated game... or maybe we possess one of the rarest of lottery tickets that actually requires the scratchee to pay the winning amount.

Needless to say, I'm not a lottery player. As someone who regularly defies odds in all ways non-beneficial, I figure, "why bother?"

It stands to reason, then, that I should give up this ridiculous Hollywood dream. Anyone who can manage to come out netting a 1/40 return on investment in lottery tickets isn't exactly walking around with four leaf clovers in his hair and a horseshoe in his pocket.

Luck plays such a huge role in penetrating the bubble with which Hollywood surrounds itself. One can't help but be awed by the odds stacked against a nobody from flyover land.

And yet I keep scratching.

Maybe I'll get there. Maybe I won't. I'm already embarrassed to be 37 years old and continuing to chase something a non-idiot would have given up long ago. Pride is out the window. All that's left is stubbornness. And desire.

If only I could find a little luck...

"Plastic Donuts" by Jeff Anderson is a great introduction to spiritual giving

As a member of Waterbrook Multnomah Publishing Group's Blogging for Books program, I get free copies of Christian books in exchange for posting reviews.  With MN 2 Hollywood focused on the film and television industry, the books are often not particularly in line with my purposes for maintaining this blog.

But my faith is important to me.  Not because I want to shove it down other folks' throats, but because the core teachings of Jesus Christ center on loving God and each other.  Christianity aside, nobody can convince me that love is not the exact thing this world needs.

The most recent book I read through this program is "Plastic Donuts" by Jeff Anderson.  It's about tithing, giving to God a portion of what He first gave us.  My view of tithing is likely inconsistent with the view of most Christian leaders in this country.  I don't believe we are called to give specifically to a church, but to give to outlets to which God leads us to give.  This very well may be a church (or churches), but it could also be a charity dedicated to helping others.  I believe we are called to spread the gospel of love that Jesus preached while He was living among us.  I don't believe we are required to fund fancy sanctuaries, extravagant light and sound systems, and inflated pastoral salaries.

But that's another topic for another time.

Here's the review I posted at Amazon for "Plastic Donuts."  I truly do think it's worth a read, especially if you've been hesitant in the past about tithing.

This is a short, easy read. Light on theological jargon, heavy on practical insight, Plastic Donuts is a great introduction to the idea of spiritual giving.

Rather than pound out black and white laws about giving, author Jeff Anderson approaches the subject in a loose manner. He doesn't answer longstanding questions about whether a 10% tithe is intended to come from one's net earnings or gross earnings or whether or not 10% is the benchmark for being right with God. It's a matter of giving what one's heart feels compelled to give, whether it be more or less than 10% and whether that 10% is calculated to the penny off gross or net income.

Nor does he demand a person's tithe go entirely to one's church. Spiritual philanthropy is a far too often overlooked calling for God's people, and Mr. Anderson's words inspire readers to cheerfully give back to God a portion of what He first gave us, whether that be directly to church or to help our brother man.

The parallel between a child offering her father plastic food and God's children offering a portion of their finances to Kingdom work is a little thin, but the message within these concise pages is desperately needed, especially in today's first-world consumerism.

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.

Bent, Not Broken

"If I'd observed all the rules, I'd never have got anywhere." - Marilyn Monroe

I cheated.

Please don't judge me.

It's admirable that I am admitting it, isn't it?

Truth is, I'm pretty sure my wife would have done the same thing had she been in my shoes.  We are only human, after all.

I cheated and I don't regret it and I'll probably do it again!

Any parent who claims not to have cheated at Candy Land is lying.

My 3-year-old had reached the second to last square on the board and the chance of him not ending the game with his next draw was literally about 10%.  The game had already dragged on (as every game of Candy Land does), so it was time to be done.

It's not that I don't enjoy playing games with my kids.  I really do.  But I consider Candy Land only marginally a game with its mindless path crawling and sadistic redundancy.  A 3-year-old's attention span can barely handle a full game of Candy Land.  Neither can my son.

I sneaked a peek at the next two cards in the deck.  Sure enough, his next draw would have yielded him the gumdrop sending him back near the beginning of the game where I was still trudging along having drawn the gingerbread man almost immediately after drawing the coveted ice cream cone.  And the cycle would have continued.

Candy Land is a game that, statistically speaking, could continue in perpetuity without a little persuasion from time to time, so I was happy to manipulate the system a bit to reach the goal.

And there it is.  The phrase that transitions to the filmmaking industry.  Took me long enough to get there, huh?

To make it in Hollywood, you almost have to manipulate the system and bend the rules.  Once you've made it... well... you still have to bend the rules.  Call it cheating if you must, but it's more about adapting and manipulating the rules to best accommodate your own situation.

That sounds narcissistic, but it's less a reflection on the individual bending the rules and more an observation of the circumstances surrounding a person.

We Davids tend to defend our own rule bending as noble and resourceful while we abscond the Goliaths for doing the same.  The Veronica Mars Kickstarter campaign raised nearly $6 million dollars in donations and Zach Braff's campaign is above $2.5 million with over a week left.

How dare they!  Kickstarter is for us little guys!  We are fighting tooth and nail to scrounge up whatever finances we can while the already rich and powerful take money that should have gone to us!

Right.

Who's to blame the 91,585 people who pitched in some money to fund a Veronica Mars project they'd love to see?  If Larry David put up a campaign to do a Seinfeld reunion, you bet I'd support him.  Not because he needs any financial support necessarily, but because I need me some more Seinfeld.

As a struggling David (not Larry) in the film industry, I'm less than thrilled to see established Hollywood Goliaths running Kickstarter campaigns, but I'm not crazy enough to believe they are taking any money away from me or other little folks.  Jealous?  Sure.  Resentful?  No.

Are they breaking any rules?  Of course not.  Breaking tradition?  I guess.  The filmmaking landscape is an evolving beast.  The rules that applied in days past don't necessarily apply today, so creativity is needed not only on the screen, but behind the scenes.

True, the rules of the motion picture industry are about as clear as the smog that blankets its major studios, but one must know and understand what has and hasn't worked for others in order to best establish themselves in this crazy business.

A forthcoming book by producer Gary W. Goldstein (Pretty Woman, Under Siege, The Mothman Prophecies) appears destined to become a cornerstone of any upstart producer's library.  The book is currently seeking publishing funds via Kickstarter.

Producer, Gary W. Goldstein

What?  Another Hollywood Goliath asking for money?

Oh. The. Humanity.

Here's the cool thing about Mr. Goldstein's campaign - for only $15 you get a digital copy of the book before it goes on sale to the public.  That's about what you'd pay for an already published book.  By contributing to the Kickstarter campaign, you're essentially buying a book and receiving it as fast as you possibly can.  It hardly seems like a donation.

Throw in a few more bucks and you can receive a number of career building opportunities from Mr. Goldstein or another from his team of Hollywood professionals.

And his goal is $12,000; not $2,000,000.

Mr. Goldstein seems committed to helping others achieve success similar to his own.  My interactions with him have been supremely pleasant and I get the impression he's a genuinely good guy.

I asked him why he went the Kickstarter route and he commented, "[Kickstarter] fascinates me with the amount of engagement that happens not by putting something up for sale but by asking a community to breathe life into a project.  I like the idea of actually being able to connect to each person, to provide things beyond the book that might not be readily available."

Gary W. Goldstein's approachability and cordiality has convinced me his heart is in the right place.  I'm happy to support people with heart, whether they are a David or a Goliath, a gingerbread man or an ice cream cone.  Truth is, Mr. Goldstein is too humble to claim to be a Goliath in this industry.