I come from an artistic, religious, and life-training school of thought that can be summarized in 3 words: get over yourself! As a high school student, playing football and wrestling, co-captain of debate, writing for three local newspapers and two online publications, there wasn't time to be super-precious or pontificate on the editor's couch about my worth. The rule was simple: you write or you're fired. A deadline is a deadline. No one cares about your wrestling tournament or debate prep. One editor told me to just slap some shit together and crank out something, b/c anything is better than wallowing in pageless pity.
When I started practicing Buddhism, I took vows that entailed some pretty daunting goals, vows, and lifelong commitments. I didn't know that it would be this detailed when I started. When faced with this list, I gulped. How is this going to get done? The text of ancient saints and masters was clear: just fucking do it. Just do something. Take one step, then take another, then take another, now go! People are waiting, people are suffering. Buddha or God or magic space angels aren't going to save you: you are going to save yourself...and maybe others. So get over yourself and get out there! A decade later I look back at my first nervous step as I continue to stumble along the path, knowing that it's not perfect. I can fall, get up, fall again, and keep moving.
This week I worked on 3 projects and made the deadlines. Hundreds of pages written, revised, formatted. I complained to a director about these deadlines, heard myself whining, and told myself: STFU. Nobody cares, people need pages to work. Then I laughed, opened up my laptop, and started writing. And I finished. In the midst of writing, I took a break to go to a friend's play. When he saw me at the theatre, he panicked. "What are you doing HERE?!?" he whispered. His play wasn't done, it was in previews, he wasn't ready, this was a workshop and...I held up my hand. I know the play is a workshop and in previews. I know this isn't the perfect final draft. I'm here. The audience is here. The lights are set. Get over yourself. I write bad plays. Everyone writes a bad play and yet look at Neil LaBute. He out here! If the play is bad, we will just boo and hate you forever ...I'm kidding! If the play is bad, we will applaud, say something polite, leave, and get a compensatory gift for our unease (mine was strawberry shortcake in a cup). Then you can sit down with your bad play and get down to the business of rewriting it. I have periods where I mourn, complain, whine. And then I say those three words, stand up, and dive back into life. Pages are due, printing presses are humming, people are waiting.
When I started practicing Buddhism, I took vows that entailed some pretty daunting goals, vows, and lifelong commitments. I didn't know that it would be this detailed when I started. When faced with this list, I gulped. How is this going to get done? The text of ancient saints and masters was clear: just fucking do it. Just do something. Take one step, then take another, then take another, now go! People are waiting, people are suffering. Buddha or God or magic space angels aren't going to save you: you are going to save yourself...and maybe others. So get over yourself and get out there! A decade later I look back at my first nervous step as I continue to stumble along the path, knowing that it's not perfect. I can fall, get up, fall again, and keep moving.
This week I worked on 3 projects and made the deadlines. Hundreds of pages written, revised, formatted. I complained to a director about these deadlines, heard myself whining, and told myself: STFU. Nobody cares, people need pages to work. Then I laughed, opened up my laptop, and started writing. And I finished. In the midst of writing, I took a break to go to a friend's play. When he saw me at the theatre, he panicked. "What are you doing HERE?!?" he whispered. His play wasn't done, it was in previews, he wasn't ready, this was a workshop and...I held up my hand. I know the play is a workshop and in previews. I know this isn't the perfect final draft. I'm here. The audience is here. The lights are set. Get over yourself. I write bad plays. Everyone writes a bad play and yet look at Neil LaBute. He out here! If the play is bad, we will just boo and hate you forever ...I'm kidding! If the play is bad, we will applaud, say something polite, leave, and get a compensatory gift for our unease (mine was strawberry shortcake in a cup). Then you can sit down with your bad play and get down to the business of rewriting it. I have periods where I mourn, complain, whine. And then I say those three words, stand up, and dive back into life. Pages are due, printing presses are humming, people are waiting.
No comments:
Post a Comment