Finding Inspiration in Failure

FilmStack Daily Inspiration Post #103

Sometimes you screw up. You pour your heart and soul into something and it… does not work the way you wanted it to.

I say this of course not from a place of personal experience, because I, dear reader, have never once been disappointed with the outcome of any endeavor.

[End sarcasm]

Just kidding! I actually think it’s the plight of the ambitious person to not always, but often, find themselves a little bit disappointed with what they’ve done. I am haunted by this interview Fran Liebowitz did with the LA Times, while promoting her documentary with Martin Scorcese, in which she says:

“He said to me numerous times: “You know what ruins ‘Taxi Driver’? The color red. The studio wouldn’t give me enough money to correct the color red, and that’s why it’s horrible.” I say, “You know what’s wrong with ‘Taxi Driver,’ Marty? Nothing.’”

This interview is from 2021, and I have been thinking about it ever since. Marty is disappointed with Taxi Driver?!

this red bothered Marty enough that he was still complaining to Fran about it circa 2021. seems fine to me.

If there were ever a category of people I would define as equal parts ambitious and self-critical, it would be artists. Particularly filmmakers!

There’s an entire category of Film & TV Writing available here at Substack, and I would guess that 50% of the writing about the craft of filmmaking is about how to get better at it. I’m guilty of it. How to outline. How to write faster. How to get to know yourself as an artist.

How do we look at our own material, judge it according to its merits, and then… try to get better?

If we’re trying to get better, does that mean we’ve failed? In a sense, yes. It’s like the old Ira Glass quote…

“Nobody tells this to people who are beginners, I wish someone told me. All of us who do creative work, we get into it because we have good taste. But there is this gap. For the first couple years you make stuff, it’s just not that good. It’s trying to be good, it has potential, but it’s not. But your taste, the thing that got you into the game, is still killer. And your taste is why your work disappoints you. A lot of people never get past this phase, they quit. Most people I know who do interesting, creative work went through years of this. We know our work doesn’t have this special thing that we want it to have. We all go through this. And if you are just starting out or you are still in this phase, you gotta know its normal and the most important thing you can do is do a lot of work. Put yourself on a deadline so that every week you will finish one story. It is only by going through a volume of work that you will close that gap, and your work will be as good as your ambitions. And I took longer to figure out how to do this than anyone I’ve ever met. It’s gonna take awhile. It’s normal to take awhile. You’ve just gotta fight your way through.”

So there’s another way to frame a “failure.” It’s an improvement in either your taste, or your skill (and sometimes both), and the gap between what it is today, and what it was when you were making the thing.

Which means… you’re getting better!

At first, feeling like you’ve failed sucks. And I don’t mean to say it doesn’t. Because, it does. It sucks.

But…

Slowly but surely, you are improving. Like it or not, the more you consume, the more you make, the more you exercise the muscles required to make the next thing that much closer to your current taste.

So, as disheartening as a failure is, and I have had many — movies I pitched to no buyers, movies I pitched to buyers who then didn’t offer enough money and everyone bailed leaving me alone with the idea, movies I’ve written that haven’t been made, movies I’ve started writing only for them to fizzle out, movies I’ve written that didn’t magically solve all of my problems — there is value in the failure.

Failing means, of course, that you’re trying to do something. That you care. That you’re opening yourself to disappointment.

A lot of people daydream. And a lot of people wish. But not a lot of people try.

As we approach the end of the year, it’s easy to look back and see our own failures. I didn’t get that thing done. I didn’t get that job. Yet another year has gone by in which I am not only not nominated for an Academy Award, but not even invited?! Rude!

However… I would like to politely remind you, that you’re trying. That even the greats fail. And that the failure is the key to improvement.

So whether it’s a short story you’ve failed to crack or a feature film you’ve written that didn’t turn out the way you’d hoped it would, or one you directed that was universally despised, failure means you have made something. Which not everyone can say. And the more you make, and the more you fail, the more chances you will have to get the color red just right. Just ask Marty.

Sorry who the heck am I to be giving you a pep talk about failure?

Well… I’m a professional screenwriter and have been working in Hollywood for the past decade. During that time I have also failed. A lot. But what have I gotten done, you ask?

I wrote the Netflix film SPACEMAN (dir. Johan Renck), starring Adam Sandler, Carey Mulligan, and Paul Dano which premiered at Berlinale 2024. I also wrote the film IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE, which is set to be released by Searchlight Pictures and was directed by Andrew Stanton.

That screenplay was featured on The Black List 2016, and got me a bunch of jobs, some of which I can talk about, some of which I can’t. I’ve written both film and television, directed and produced short films which have screened at dozens of festivals including SXSW, and I’m currently putting together what will hopefully be my directorial debut. I was named one of MovieMaker Magazine’s 25 Screenwriters to Watch, and you can follow me on instagram / Tiktok. Here’s my website if you realllly want a full bio.

Thanks for reading, thanks to

Ted Hope

for kicking off the FilmStack Daily Inspiration trend, and thanks to

Donny Broussard

for all the help coordinating!