In the last 15 months, I’ve written three episodes of television.
Today, I turned in my third script — my first half-hour (ever, if we don’t include the few failed ones on spec, lol) and my first script where the official mandate was, “Bitch, this has to be funny, so write some jokes.” (I still don’t know what a “joke” is. No one will tell me.)
I have been surprised by how my TV writing career has unfolded so far. Somedays, it feels like a whirlwind, but I know it is not. I have truly worked my entire life to get to where I am now. Over seven years ago, I made the decision to leave a job I loved and was good at to “become a TV writer.” Six years ago, I decided to apply to film school. Five years ago, I was gearing up to start film school. And three years ago, soon after graduating from film school and starting my first job in TV, I was eating Shake Shack with two of my best friends. And one of them so subtly dragged me by saying, “Everything is going to happen for you in your 30s.” I remember having two simultaneous reactions: (1) Thanks, bitch, that was rude as hell; and (2) She’s absolutely right.
I didn’t want to wait until 30 to feel like things were “happening.” I was 28 at the time and 30 (let alone 31!) seemed very far away. It wasn’t. And since getting staffed, that time has flown by and very exciting, wonderful, affirming things have happened. Also in a short amount of time. 15 months to be exact. But back then, I could not have not anticipated that two years later I would be staffed as a TV writer. And then within 15 months of getting staffed for the first time, I would have staffed 2.5 more times and written three episode. Or that I would be starting to seriously consider development and preparing to take out my first pitches — which is another step closer to my ultimate goal/dream of being a creator, showrunner, and executive producer. Or that I would be teaching my second TV writing class at USC in 11 days.
I hoped that when my time came, I would be ready. I hoped that I would not fuck it up; that I would be successful. I hoped that I would work on quality shows that I believed in and were passionate about. I prayed that I would work with and for good, smart, kind, talented people. I prayed that each job would feel like preparation for that ultimate/dream goal — even if it takes decades for me to get there. And I prayed that along the way, I’d surround myself with an incredible tribe. I prayed I’d stay rooted to where I came from. I prayed that I wouldn’t have to sacrifice my conscience or my healing or my love or my wholeness to have this career.
So far, the hoping and praying has worked. And my best friend, though a ruthless bitch, was a bit of a prophet.
I am a grateful heart.
P.S. Because I’ve also written about my (nonexistent) love life, I leave you with this text I just sent a friend, which is a BONUS true thing for today:
I also added: Yes, the way I talk about my own queerness is problematique. Because I KNOW MYSELF.