I’ve had a string of overdue catch-ups with friends lately and we’ve inevitably done the “what have you been working on? how are all your projects?” and compared notes about navigating our increasingly slow-moving industry. Nobody seems to want to commit to doing anything right now, out of fear that the movies are over, when in fact, the movies are so back.
I’ve also had a couple informational meetings with people who are newer to Hollywood and run through the career trajectory staples: “How did that thing come about? What happened that actually took you from A to B?” And over all these conversations, I’ve been struck by the realization that a heck of a lot of what happens in this business actually comes down to… “And then I did it myself.” And when it’s not “I did it myself,” it’s often “the producer did it himself” or “the director did it herself.”
In thinking about my own work opportunities over the past couple years, the common denominator has been, more than anything, me making it happen! Even the IP! I have a feature film I’ve been adapting which is based on a short story by a big deal author, and that’s something that I found and brought to producers who helped me secure the money to get the rights to adapt and direct it. I’ve had a TV project (based on a different author’s work) that my manager (credit where credit is due, hi!) found and I then wrote a personal note asking for the rights. So I personally ended up with the rights to develop the material. I have a movie I’m pitching (also an adaptation) which came about because I reached out to a manager friend of mine and asked if he could matchmake me with any of his clients for a job. And I have an original feature film I’m trying to set up that I wrote and am now haranguing agents, managers, and producers about. And then the things that seemingly came my way unprompted, often ended up actually being because people liked other things I’d self-generated. The ratio of things I’ve needed to get started myself vs. things that have come to me strongly favors the self-generated.
Especially when you’re early in your career, it can feel like there’s nobody advocating for you, and if you could just get an agent or manager to take you seriously and get you more opportunities, then everything will change. Well, sorry to break it to you, but, not so much. You may now have a little more access to a few fancier people’s inboxes, and a few more people who can help you make phone calls, but ultimately the work (and opportunities) will always seem to come down to you. “The cavalry is not coming,” as Mark Duplass says. I love my team (hi!) and we all work hard, but… Hollywood is a fickle town, everyone is being pulled in a million different directions, and you simply cannot wait around for anyone else to solve your problems for you, especially if you’re a writer. Because nobody can do the writing for you. It’s DIY City here!

A note about DIY City:
I am aware that Duplass gets a lot of shit for saying “go make your film yourself, anyone can do it!” Making a film, even at the cheapest level, is expensive, it’s hard, it’s time intensive, and this DIY attitude is one that’s often a heck of a lot easier to have if you are already privileged. That’s true. But (and hear me out on this)… Everything is a lot easier if you come from privilege. That’s true everywhere. I am aware that saying “Do It Yourself” sounds a lot like “pull yourself up by your bootstraps,” a phrase which was originally coined as an ironic condemnation of American “Can-Do”-ism that has now somehow lost its meaning and actually become genuine American “Can-Do”-ism. I am speaking of the spirit of DIY more than speaking about it as a way in which to upend America’s very much entrenched class system. That I don’t feel confident I know how to solve via substack newsletter.
I was an intern at The Daily Show long ago (during the original Jon Stewart run, not current Jon 2.0) and at the end of the internship we all sat and chatted with Jon for an hour or so and he said something that has always stuck with me. Jon talked about how your entire career (he was talking comedy, but it applies nearly everywhere) you feel like you’re working towards the moment when some Big Shot with a cigar taps you on the shoulder and says “Come with me kid,” and takes you back into the back room where “you’ve made it.”
But, you will eventually discover: there is no back room.
As it turns out, you will always be wondering whether you’ve made it, you will never really believe you have, and even if you do feel like you get to go into the back room, you’ll be painfully aware everyone’s time there is limited.
Everyone I know at every level of the arts feels like they wish they could be doing more, getting more opportunities, making the next thing bigger/better, and we all have a tendency to feel like nobody else is stuck the way we’re stuck. But if you ask someone flat out, even someone you admire, even someone who’s had a whole bunch of success (in your eyes), the bar can always shift higher.
I’m mixing metaphors a bit, but I personally find it’s nice to keep my expectations in check for what anyone else can do for me. Every once in a while they can help get a thing done, or make a phone call, or find something new, but a lot (and I mean a lot) of the job of persevering through a life in the arts is exactly that: persevering. So continue doing the work. Nobody is coming to do it for you. Nobody is coming to save the day. And that’s okay. Because the sooner you can realize that that’s true, the sooner you can roll up your sleeves and do it yourself.
I find myself doing this a lot - So and so could do this, so and so could do that. I know it’s in my best interest to be my own best interest but it’s easy to slip. I started calling it coattails syndrome…