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.

Unexpectedly.

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?

Make me a believer.