Time now for a story
on tortoises and hares.
I usually stick to
the subject of screencraft on this blog, and rarely diverge into
anything that resembles career advice, but this is a topic that
straddles both areas. Most of you should be familiar with the most
famous of Aesop's fables: A Tortoise challenges a Hare (that is, a
rabbit) to a race. The Hare thinks the race will be easy, so instead
of taking the task seriously, wastes the race goofing off. The
Tortoise, on the other hand, keeps its head down and plows forward,
one step at a time. Because the Tortoise maintains its focus and
dedication, it eventually reached the finish line while the Hare does
not. The moral: “Slow and steady wins the race.”
But what does this
moral actually mean, and what the heck does it have to do with the
subject of this blog? The point is, every aspiring screenwriter
starts out thinking he or she is going to be the Hare. Furthermore,
everybody wants to be the
Hare. Being the Hare is easy. Young writers want to believe that all they
have to do is put together one or two drafts of a single screenplay,
and their career will take off from there. But then, they meet
disappointment. That one quickie script is not enough to bring
success. So, they try again with a second screenplay, scrabbled
together with the same amount of time and effort. But that screenplay
also does not meet the writer's aspirations. It would be awesome if
writing a great screenplay required only a modest amount of time and
effort, but that is simply not the case. Even seasoned writers
consistently fall prey to the Hare mentality. Every time a writer
starts a new project, he or she would love to think that all it will take
this time around is three or four drafts to knock the script out of the park.
However, those three or four drafts inevitably turn into nine, ten,
or fifteen. What they originally hoped to be a sprint always turns
into a marathon.
It
is not that the writer is fooling him or herself. It is just that the
writer is indulging in wishful thinking. Everyone wants to be a Hare,
because no one wants to accept the alternative. No one relishes the
thought of being the Tortoise, dragging along in the hot sun
for days on end. Being the Tortoise requires more patience and
perseverance than many should be asked to give.
Despite
this, aspiring writers continuously prop up their hopes with supposed
tales of past Haredom. They cite Callie Khouri with Thelma
& Louise. Diablo Cody with
Juno. Even if we
ignore the fact that sixteen years passed between these two
incredible freshman efforts, stories like these usually turn out to
be more legend than fact. I refuse to believe that Thelma &
Louise or Juno
were their creators' first attempts at writing. Even so, these works
demanded far more than a handful of drafts before they were worthy of
an Academy Award. Writers love to mention how Sylvester Stallone
invented his own stardom by writing Rocky
from the back of a van. However, few realize that Stallone had to
write forty drafts of the script before it was ready to produce. Even
fewer know that Rocky
was not even the first of Stallone's scripts to be purchased or
optioned. Stallone had a previous script optioned which was never
produced; and, knowing other instances where Stallone bent the truth
to create the Rocky legend,
Stallone probably had written several other early screenplays that he
conveniently lost for posterity.
The
thing is, in the world of screenwriting, not only does the Hare never
win, but Hares do not even exist! There are only two types of
screenwriters: Tortoises, and Tortoises who think
they are Hares. One will finish the race, one will not. Guess which
is which.
Anyone
interested in a career writing movies should know from the start that
it will be a long, hard road. Even worse, it is a road whose length
is unknown. It may take two years to complete your journey, it may
take twenty-five. The only way to know is to keep moving forward
until the destination arrives. But remember Lao-tzu: “A journey of
a thousand miles begins with a single step.” A single first step
and a lot more after that. This is what every day must be to a
developing screenwriter. Every time he or she sits down to work, that
is one more step closer to the ultimate destination. The only way to
finish the journey is to keep your head down and keep grinding
forward. Slow and steady. Focused and dedicated. Do not think about
where you stand now. Think about where your work will get you in a
month, in a year, in two years. Then, put in the work today to get
there tomorrow. Maybe developing as a screenwriter it is not so much
like being a tortoise as it is like a mole digging its way to
daylight. The mole must claw through mile after mile of dirt before
it breaks through. Only the mole, stuck in its dark little tunnel,
cannot tell how or when this will happen. All it knows is that is
must keep on digging if it ever wants to get there. The mole does not
curse the fact that it has to dig. Digging is what it was born to do.
Don't
be Hare-brained. A Tortoise who thinks like a Hare will start the
race without any realization of how hard it will be or how long it
will take. It will plod forward for a while, become frustrated at its
progress, and then quit. All that hard work went for nothing because
the Tortoise could not understand the reality of its situation. A
successful Tortoise is one who knows he or she is a Tortoise and
accepts that fact. It acknowledges that it can only move so fast,
shrugs its shoulders, and gets moving. The Tortoise cannot force
itself to move faster than natural. If it does, it will only burn
itself out and collapse far from the finish line. All things must
progress at their natural pace, and so must your development as a
screenwriter. It may take a long time, but as long as writers
remain honest with themselves and their work, and find the strength
of will to keep at it, they will get there eventually. A
Tortoise will only find happiness once it learns to be patient. Which is
more than can be said for the undisciplined, impatient, easily-distracted Hare. Like they say about running a marathon, the victory is not
in winning the race, but simply reaching the finish line, no matter
how long it takes.
"In this there is no measuring with time. A year doesn't matter; ten years are nothing. To be an artist means not to compute or count; it means to ripen as the tree, which does not force its sap, but stands unshaken in the storms of spring with no fear that summer might not follow. It will come regardless. But it comes only to those who live as though eternity stretches before them, carefree, silent, and endless. I learn it daily, learn it with many pains, for which I am grateful: Patience is all!"- Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet
