xtcian

guarded optimism

6/3/04

When I was 25 years old, I basically won the jackpot: I was asked to be a contributing author to a book that ended up being successful enough that I didn't need to look for work for about two years. Those were two "Chapel Hill years," mind you, which meant that $15,000 could see you through 24 months of rent, movies and middle-shelf bourbon.

publicity still from 13th-GEN in 1993; clockwise from top left: me, Neil Howe, R.J. Matson, Bill Strauss

I kept waiting for my life to take off, you know, for the book to propel me into the stratosphere. As soon as the sales came in, I would find a girlfriend, I would be able to write novels, I would be able to do anything I want. I have to say it was my Dad who brought me wisdom I was unwilling to hear: "no one artistic event changes everything."

I rested on my pathetic laurels instead, and paid for it by having Nervous Breakdown #1 in 1994. Later on, when we were finishing financing for the Pink House movie, I became convinced that certain elements, once finished and paid for, would propel the movie into the stratosphere. Again, my dad cautioned me about putting too much stock in any one artistic event, and again, I was schooled by moments of abject despondency when things didn't change.

You are still you in the morning, I came to understand, and thus I've tried to remain as process-oriented as possible. It is with that frank realism that I approach tomorrow's meeting: it will be Tessa and I in a room with a very important entity. If they choose to work with us, it could mean a sea change in the way we will be viewed in the entertainment cosmos.

Or not. I pray for it to go well, but I am relieved by understanding that the Chaos Theory only works if individual moments in your career promise to play well with all the others.