Someday I’ll learn to.
Saturday morning I delayed leaving the farmhouse at least an hour, dreading the day ahead. I puttered. I got distracted. I pouted. I did a little ranting.
The filmmaking seminar I was scheduled to teach in Dallas only had a few people registered. I was going to drive four hours each way and then spend about four hours on my better behavior and lose money in the process.
On the interstate I blast Mama Mia, Zero Patience, and Chicago from the CD player, trying to drown the voice in my head screaming “I’m an idiot!”
I find the place in Dallas, then circle ’round to a Taco Bueno for a quick fix. I call my best bud on the phone. “What the fuck am I doing?!” He whispers soothing assurances from 1400 miles away.
Fifteen minutes later I’m back at the conference building, dressed in my leather pants, wearing boots, faking a happy disposition, and resigned to just let the day be what it’s going to be.
People started showing up.
A lot of people.
In fact, enough people showed up we got all our costs covered. Even my two beef burritos. And I had a great time, meeting some really cool people who were really digging what I was telling them.
A big part of my seminar talks about how as an indie filmmaker I must take a huge leap of faith by believing in myself and trusting my community will support me and my films. No matter what I have to continue plowing ahead with the next movie, confident that what I need to make the movie will show up when I need it.
The folks at the seminar were all inspired and excited when they left, eager to tackle the filmmaking challenges in their lives.
I get back on the road for the long drive home on ugly I-35 and think about what I just told these people about believing in themselves and trusting that everything will work out.
What will it take for me to believe my own advice?