Finding Your Own Voice
I tend to spend much of my spare time split between multiple differing disciplines. If I’m not cycling, I may be at the gym. If I’m not exercising, I’m training and working with my dogs. Other times, I’ll be writing or reading, trying to continually hone the skills I desire to transform into a career. After a while, however, I reach points where I tell myself, “Enough. Quit reading and looking for a solution that doesn’t exist. Go. Do.”
Two words that have the power to change so much. With so much information out in the world today, some great, some not so much, options that weren’t available when I was a wanna-be screenwriter at seventeen, it’s far more likely that we reach information overload before we actually get to the projects we so desperately pursue. At what point do we stop reading and start doing? I find myself ever so slowly reaching that point myself. I know the technical, foundational principals of filmmaking. I understand the process on the independent scale. I know what I feel looks great on screen and while I know I am a long way from a master at this craft, sometimes I feel as if I don’t have a lot left to learn until I actually start doing.
There will always be a new technique or a new technology to grace our presence. This will forever be the case in any pursuit any of us have. Yet, at some point, we start to see these new techniques and technologies as tools that push us further down the path rather than necessary. It’s a strange turn of thinking, at least for me.
For so many years, I always felt the gear and technology were what was holding me back. These days, I don’t care what camera I film on or what lights I use as long as they get the job done. I want good, clean audio. That I’m a bit obsessed with, otherwise, I’ll shoot on standard def if it elevates the story.
I have quietly wrapped production on Fly High: Story of the Disc Dog and now that I have moved into the post production process, I find myself focusing more on writing. I want to create moving or funny stories with purpose. If there’s one change that has been so prevalent in my time working on Fly High it’s that I am no longer afraid of the hurdles associated with independent filmmaking.
There will always be a hurdle. There will always be something that will ultimately try to stand in the way. It’s what we choose to do with those adversities that shape us. Filmmaking, and most creatively subjective professions, require alligator skin and an unquenchable thirst to create. You can’t be risk aversive and succeed. That is a terrifying truth, until you’re in it. When you’re in it and you grow accustomed to the unknown, you feel unstoppable. Failure is no longer scary. Success becomes more frightening than failure. Failure teaches you something. Success creates arrogance, if you don’t know how to handle it, or it can humble you.
It’s time to stop waiting. It’s time to do.