Which came first: The Beginning, or the End?

Been home from L.A. for a few weeks now. Still struggling to finish the script. The good news is, I am now armed with great notes (thanks to Victoria Wu! ; ) Also, the energy to power through yet another rewrite. 

While writing at Starbucks, I ran into a former teacher or mine from junior high. She asked if I would talk with Ruby, her twelve-year old niece, about my own work and writing in general. Ruby is an aspiring writer.

I love kids, especially creative ones, so I said, "Sure!" Imagine. Me, a role model. Scary.

No sooner had the word left my lips than the Dark Half, the evil-editor-fiend-who-lies-beneath, surfaced. Mmmwwhhaaahaaa! DH's breath bit into my ear... what could I possibly have to say that the irrepressible Mrs. J. hadn't already said, better?

Ruby turned out to be incredibly bright and imaginative, in a way I suspect I wasn't, at her age. I blame Google. And my parents, of course.  (Love you, Mom and Dad!)

I invited Ruby to pitch me. Her face lit up, and she launched into an avalanche of story details. I asked her about her ending, and then, her outline. You know... the plan. Her eyes wandered briefly. I felt like I was looking in a mirror, talking to a younger, brighter version of me.   

While we were talking, my own journey scrolled through my head, backward. I rarely think about that first film. What I think about is that first audience. Or rather, their reaction to my work, up there on the big screen for the very first time. 

I was supposed to sit down front, to expediate access to the stage for the filmmaker Q&A held after the screening. I arrived so late the producers had written me off. My bad, as I gave my husband bad directions. I was so focused on burning the disc on my laptop, i didn; notice we missed a vital turn. 

As such, I had the privilege of sitting on the fourteenth row. A gift, as it turned out. From my seat in the middle of the auditorium, I heard viewers murmur and even gasp, at the same places where I, too, once murmured and gasped. For a brief collection of moments, the audience and I were connected, through the lens. 

I forgot about the shots, and the frenzied editing session that had taken place hours before. Due to a technical malfunction, I lost the movie. I had to re-cut the entire film, from source tapes, mere hours before the screening. No one knew that less than twelve hours before I'd been sitting on my bathroom floor, in the throes of a near-total meltdown. That from some place hidden deep within, I'd found the resolve to get up and start again. 

The audio was awful. I was mortified. Still, the message came through. By the time the lights went up and the applause came from the crowd, I could see that success is relative. The words and the moving images had made it, by hook or by crook, up there onto the screen. The audience forgave my technical failures, because they were entertained. That was all they cared about. Suddenly, it was all I cared about, too. 

Since then, my writing has never been the same.

In his book The Dip, Seth Godin writes:  Most competitors quit long before they create something that makes it to the top. Same is true for sports stars and pop singers. And lots and lots of (screen)writers.

The Bottom Line: Begin with the end in mind. 

In writing, as in life, know where you are going. If you don't have a road map, that's OK... but it helps to have a plan. This sets your mind free to listen to what your heart has to say.


Everyone who has ever tried to do anything has failed. Some people give up. How and when you/your character starts over again (or not) is up to you. 

Every time I write a script, or go to Hollywood, or shake someone's hand, I try to remember... "This might be the one/only/last time I get to do this."   

Which is exactly what I passed along to Ruby.