Writer at a Crossroads

If you’re a writer like me, you are 5 foot 9 in thick-soled sneakers, with rich, lustrous hair (spreading to the wrong parts of your body), and you enjoy frequent moments of introspection where important questions populate the mind — How did I get here? What should I do next? What the hell am I doing with my life? Y’know, the basics.

I’ve been in Hollywood for 20 years now, far removed from the days of idealism when I believed each brick lain would lead me to where I wanted to go. I had no idea the path would have so many detours, road blocks, “Under Construction” signs, potholes, and lead off so many cliffs. Though I’ve had successes and failures (oh, the failures), leaving me with a veritable treasure trove of scripts — sketches, pilots, specs, treatments, manuscripts, screenplays, jokes, and so on — none provide me with an inkling of what to do next. And in the interest of saving more trees, I also must entertain the once unmentionable thought — should I move on from Hollywood?

The problem with a creative’s life is there is no map. There are literally dozens of roads I can travel along next. Thus, I find myself at a familiar locale for artists — the crossroads. Like a hobo living out of a sack on a stick, I’ve stored my stuff and have been slumming it on the spare beds of friends, waiting for the next train to pass into the station. I feel alone, a round peg in a world of square holes with no one to whom I can relate. Even in a town filled with round pegs, it can be disconcerting.

It’s easy to get caught up in the noise of Hollywood — “What are you working on?” “Are you submitting to this contest?” “You should write a low-budget horror movie!” “Write a spec, a sizzle, a pilot, a multi-cam, a single-cam, an indie set in one location, a big budget, get the rights to someone’s story…” — and forget your direction. Pilot season, staffing season, movie season, the Four Seasons. . . rinse and repeat. It’s endless!

These are the times I seek inspirational guidance and sage wisdom to anyone — a peer, a hero, a mentor — who might understand. I attend networking mixers, film festivals, panel discussions setting about to ask questions hoping for any glimmering beacon to provide help. During previous moments, I’ve had a sketch of mine praised by Carol Burnett, complimented by two of the Wayans Brothers for funny stand-up material, found a book of mine on the Boston Globe bestseller list just under Tina Fey’s “Bossypants,” and been offered advice by Jerry Stahl in the form of, “You’re doing everything right;” These keep me going, but ultimately, they leave me lacking any substantial game plan.

In improv classes, they always say that you should look backwards for the answer on how to go forwards. So I started poring over my previous projects. I went through my portfolio of Yahoo! Sports blogs and came upon the feature I did on motocross in 2011 (“Motocross: A Battle of David and Goliath”) about an independent racing team taking on the big, bad sponsors. The team was built and run by a guy named Mike Milaccio, who also worked as a recruiter on my floor at “the -hoo!” during my old 9–5 life, a life of bagels on Tuesdays and doctor visits I DIDN’T have to pay for, a life where I would squeeze my creative work (on the work computer — shhhhhh! don’t tell) into breaks and after hours. Never have I been more of a round peg wedged among the squares.

But this guy surprised me. On the surface, Mike seemed to be just another desk jockey working his headset, spouting token corporate buzzwords like “synergy” and “impact” that mean nothing but sound important. When he talked about his other life, the one he toiled away at in the hidden crevices of time, less concerned with file folders and binder clips than with shifters, sprockets, brake rotors, and rims, it rang true to my life.

In the article, he said of his hustle, ”I have to do this in the morning or at night or on weekends. I work my day job, and then get on the road and go pick up a part or give John [his partner] graphics.” Mike was grinding it out day-by-day, just as I had spent weekends and evenings working on my stuff, sacrificing social activities.

Here was a guy who tried everything — he was a valet, a stunt man, a production assistant, an unofficial golf pro to the stars in Studio City… — but had a genuine appreciation for recruiting. And because of that, corporate America provided him with a life, one that allowed him to apply his other talents elsewhere. Like me, he didn’t solely want to embrace one vocation as a singular career. He knew there was always something else out there, more to the picture.

So I caught up with him via LinkedIn and found out that he was up to something equally impressive. Since our days together, he went on to a different recruiting job, but it all changed when he was given a one in a million shot that everyone in town would die for: he was asked to help produce a feature.

How did he do it? The same way he excelled at recruiting: he had done an array of jobs before and so knew what was necessary. He describes it as “pinch hitting,” for though he was out of practice being on the movie set, he had to get up to speed again quickly. Mike admits he’s not the best at any one skill, not a visionary sought for his expertise, but rather an Average Joe who knows as well as anyone how to hustle and what’s required of him.

But giving up a normal routine for the crazy lifestyle of working a movie set begs the question, Why did he do it? “The exhilaration of creating something, working 18–20 hour days appeals to me,” he said. “Maybe not the hours, but the creation. Everybody’s goal is the end result, the perfect connection between the corporate and creative.” He added he would live in a truck if need be to accomplish this. It’s similar to recruiting in that he’s “getting someone outstanding into a position,” but here he has something that will live forever.

The movie was just released on Netflix and he loved every minute of the experience. But now it’s back to his day job because he’s gotta keep the lights on like anybody else and he enjoys that too. His advice to me? “Be different, be more than one thing. The hours are not remembered. It’s the creation. Everybody’s goal should be the end result, getting the best material on the screen. I find that similar to recruiting as the end result is getting the best possible talent in the seat.”

And just like that, a light bulb went off in my head! Some people can work for a larger entity and mold themselves into a square peg, stifling all their unique talents in favor of being well taken care of, and they’re happy about that. But others (like me, Mike, and thousands of creatives) need to leave a trail of accomplishments behind. It’s the exhilaration of having something at the end of the day, something to be proud of, that you’ve used your round peg talents for. In an office, you have to mold your skillset to fit the edict of the company. And like Mike, my base of experience allows me the opportunity to create something no one else can.

Somewhere along the line, I forgot that. It made me realize that life’s experiences are what we’re about. And that’s the true life blood of a writer. I’m not at a crossroads at all; I’m right in the middle of it all. The road is certainly not one that I would have expected, but I have been navigating it the only way I know how, my own way. And by looking to others around me who are driven and focused, I am reinvigorated to forge my own path wherever it may lead.