I got an e-mail yesterday from the folks at the American Zoetrope Screenplay Contest. The grand prize is $5,000 but the real award is that, even if you make it only to the semi-finals, people are going to be reading your work and by "people" I mean people who are in a position to do something with it, agents, producers, development folk. So I get my annual e-mail stating the winner, finalists, semi-finalists, etc. and, as you might have guessed, the big unwritten P.S., "You're not on it." I read over the list, the titles of scripts and their authors and I couldn't help but plunge into the self-pitying pool of "What did they do that I didn't?" I read each and every name and, while I didn't see anyone I knew personally, I quickly recognized them all as the people passing me by.
None of this is new. I've entered contests before, including this one twice. At this point, I consider it a shot in the dark where the $50 entry fee is well worth the 3-hole-punchers' chance that I might make the cut. Despite the obvious feelings of inadequacy and failure described above, I wasn't all that broken up about it. It would be a big deal, sure, but it's not the only way to break through. No, the real core of my disappointment and pain this year was not simply seeing in print the names of all the competitors better than me. The hot stinger that stuck in my chest and could not be plucked out was the fact that, despite getting this e-mail thanks-but-no-thanks-ing me for my entry, I didn't even submit a script this year. I had nothing new to turn in. Even in a tough loss, there is a certain pride that comes from playing a good game. I didn't even put on my cleats and walk on the field!
I really need to start writing again. Not for a contest, just for me.
1 comment:
Try harder.
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