Balls of Steel™: What to Expect When You’re a Writer

Question: How’s that screenwriting career going? I promise, I’m sincerely not trying to roast anyone here, but I want to know—is it going as you expected? 

 
Yeah, I get it. Expectations are rarely reality.  

That’s why books like What to Expect When You’re Expecting are so popular with new parents. Raising a child for the first time is similar to breathing life into your first script. It’s your baby. But you have no idea how to take it from draft to production.  

You are not alone. 

Before all you nonparents out there run for the hills, stick around. Keep reading. So much of life relates to writing! Even an upholstery class I took a few weeks ago struck me as a writing lesson, but I digress.  

Think about it, it takes 40 weeks to cook a baby in a mom’s belly. It probably takes most baby writers that amount of time to figure out how to get that first draft down. Even after reading all the books and getting advice from every parent you know, it’s impossible to prepare for what’s coming once the baby arrives … until you live it. Just like most new writers have no idea what to do with a script when it’s “done.” 

Then? The unthinkable happens. The hospital actually lets you take that little bundle home … and you are clueless and terrified. Sort of like how no one can stop a new writer from querying a script before it’s really ready.  

Jump in and figure it out on the fly. 

You question everything. Every. Little. Thing. How often do I feed this child? What do these cries mean? I wish she would just tell me what she wants! And the writer has similar questions: Do I bold the sluglines? Am I supposed to add direction? Why won’t the managers tell me what they want!? 

The bottom-line is, no one knows anything when something is new to them, but we somehow survive it. Your parents managed not to kill you, and you will manage to figure out how to navigate Hollywood.  

With time, comes experience. With experience comes wisdom and patience.  

As some of you know, I’ve run a weekly screenwriting chat on X called #scriptchat since 2009. I’ve seen countless writers come and go—most of them head for the exit after a couple of years. Very few hang on to see success. Their patience wanes, their expectations mount, and they abandon their dreams, mostly because the path took turns they never saw coming, making the road far too long and bumpy. 

It's as exhausting to be an artist as it is to be a parent. No matter how much you love something—a script or a baby—you can’t protect either, and you can’t guarantee health, happiness or success.  

Prepare for the worst; hope for the best.  

When new parents try to describe the love they feel for their baby, a common expression surfaces, “It’s like wearing your heart outside of your body.” You are beyond vulnerable. It’s scary as hell. Many writers feel all of those insecurities when someone reads their script. A different kind of vulnerability, but emotional, nonetheless.  

But when your child says their first “Mama” or “Dada,” your heart will melt, just like when you get your first writing compliment from an exec or a professional writer. OK, maybe the child trumps the exec, but you know what I mean. 

We write to make people feel. We open our wounds for the world to see. It’s scary, but critical to a good story. I’d also argue that being raw and vulnerable will make you a better parent in the long run.  

I came across a two-year-old #scriptchat post from industry executive Jeff Willis that I had copied into my files, intending to share, but then … completely forgot. Luckily, his post is evergreen …  

“My advice to aspiring screenwriters is to be OK with a career that's not linear. To be OK with failure. There’s no predictable progress in screenwriting. You build a career by building on your successes, which come sporadically between many failures.”  

Gee, that sounds a lot like great parenting advice, doesn’t it? 

As my kids are now grown, I think back to the most important advice I gave them—at least from my perspective.  

In no particular order of importance …  

Life is all about pivoting. Things are going to come at you that you never anticipated. Whether it’s in your job, a sport, or your relationships. Accept that almost nothing will go as planned.  

I don’t like the word failure. I prefer to use the words opportunities for lessons. I have never learned anything from my successes—except that working hard only sometimes reaps rewards. When it comes to screenwriting, hard work does not correlate to guaranteed success. There are so many variables that are beyond your control. All you can do is your best. That’s it. Then let go of what you can’t control and shift your focus to the work, instead of the disappointment.  

Don’t shy away from the ugly. I’ve learned all of my most life-changing lessons from disappointments. At first, I cry. Then I second-guess every choice, wishing I could relive those critical moments and redirect in a better way. I figure out what I should have done differently. But I don’t pretend everything is fine. If I hadn’t “failed,” I wouldn’t have taken the opportunity to analyze the process and learn.  

But resist the urge to overanalyze every decision you make. You’re going to make mistakes, and those might actually turn out to be for the best.  

What you do when you’re on the floor, broken and defeated, defines who you are. Are you a quitter, curled up in a ball? Or will you pivot, pull yourself up, and try a new strategy? You aren’t more special than anyone else. You cannot assume someone can or will save you.   

Every successful person fails. Every. Single. One. Those hiccups don’t define you. It’s what you do about them that does.  

You will always have a long list of problems. Pick the hardest one and tackle that first. Because you need to play the psychological game of confidence. If you can cross that Herculean obstacle off your list, the rest will be a breeze.  

The truth is, when I was young, I thought I knew everything, but now? I have more days than not when I feel I don’t know anything, except what can fit on the tip of a pencil. 

But that’s what keeps me hungry to learn. Determined to do better. But more importantly, committed to enjoying the ride, no matter where it takes me. Or how long it takes me. 

This road is unpredictable. You may never get produced. But are you enjoying it? Enjoying the writing? If you aren’t, quit now. But if you are … keep going. Work hard because someone else is out there working harder than you.  

Finally, ask yourself, how much do you want it? Because you really have to want it in this industry. You have to train, both in life and in your craft. You have to be ready. You have to prepare. And you have to learn how to pivot when things don’t go your way.  

As an artist, you must take risks. Don’t be afraid of falling and bruising your knees. Parents and mentors can only do so much. They can’t protect you or carry you over the velvet ropes to Hollywood.  

Sure, you can find champions, but what happens once you get hired as a writer? You are the one in the room, having to put words on the page. If you’re open to learning, open to collaboration, the rest of the writers in that room will respect you.  

Now, let me tell you a secret that you might not want to hear … getting your script produced isn’t the most important thing that will happen in your life. For your career maybe, but not the entirety of your life. It really isn’t.  

Living your life to the fullest and enjoying the people you meet along the way is far more satisfying. Because that is why we are here. To connect. To experience. To love and be loved. And we write to make people feel.  

You have to live a full life to have something worth writing about.  

Just don’t forget to enjoy the bumpy ride. Then take your characters on one, too.