I’ve always been very private about my ideas and my art. I love sharing and collaborating when I’m in an environment where I feel comfortable, but when I’m around new people who I have never worked with before, I freeze, tense up, am unable to articulate my ideas in an intelligent manner. I picture myself as Animal from the Muppets, spastic, stuttering, and incomprehensible.
Now there have been times I have overcome this because the stakes were high. I work best under high-pressure, I think it’s because I’m a Capricorn. For example, I’ve been working on a screenplay for a TV series with a company for over a year now, who has contracts and partnerships with major film production companies in LA. With this opportunity, I went in knowing that I had to be confident and act like I knew what I was doing, even though this was my first big writing opportunity to date, and still consider myself a super-duper newbie to the TV writing industry. It’s funny that when faced with the challenge of going into a room with older men who have been in the entertainment industry their whole lives, I can overcome it with extreme grace and confidence, my head held high rocking black pumps and a blazer, but when asked by a friend about a project I am working on, I become paralyzed.
My boyfriend and I are complete opposites when it comes to the way we see art. This is not news to me, but it keeps getting more and more apparent as time goes on. When he thinks of an idea he thinks visually. My boyfriend, by nature, is obsessed with image. He thinks of the shots he wants to see, the special effects, and all the technical cinematographic aspects of the film or project. When I think of an idea I think of the story, the characters, and the overall tone of the piece. This is where we butt heads, or rather when I go quiet. If I can’t connect with someone on an artistic level it’s very hard for me to feel comfortable sharing my ideas with them. I share everything else with him, but I can’t collaborate with him effectively, at least not yet.
Last Friday my boyfriend and his friend and I were at my apartment in Brooklyn. They are working on this comedic short-film and wanted my help, as comedy writing is one of my favorite things to delve into on a rainy day or any day. The two of them work so efficiently together. Throughout the whole brainstorming pow-wow, they were on the same wave-length with what they wanted and it was so wonderful and inspiring to see such a great connection between artists right in front of my eyes. As inspirational as it was, this was one of the first times I felt like I couldn’t jump right in. I had never hung out with this buddy of my boyfriend’s before or worked with him. My boyfriend had done on multiple film projects with him and it definitely showed as they were bouncing ideas off of each other. I just felt like I didn’t fit in. When I would find the courage to speak up and say something, the room went quiet. Dead air. My ideas didn’t spark them, but rather fizzled out the raging fire that they had been feeding. After a few awkward moments of silence and no positive feedback for my thoughts, they rebuilt it. At that point I stopped trying to add to the fire and I just stayed silent, nodding to show that I was still present. I didn’t want to be rude and I wanted to make a good impression because my boyfriend had spoken so highly of this filmmaker. He was a good person, a guy I really liked hanging out with and having a beer with, but someone I just couldn’t connect with creatively. After being silent for much too long, both my boyfriend and his friend kept commenting on my quietness, inviting me to help, asking for advice and ideas, and I was just frozen.
The next day, on the phone with my boyfriend, I opened up to him about how I felt like it was hard for me to jump in because I didn’t have that previous connection with his friend. I explained how I just thought differently from them and I’m very private about my art. He said he understood, but I don’t think he really did because right after he was right back into pressuring me about ideas and asking me to act in the film, as well. I don’t think he comprehends that it’s hard for me to work with him too because of our differences in the way we see the world. He wants to work with me so desperately and I love that about him. I think that it’s truly special that he wants to share his art, something he is so passionate about, with me, and I do want to work with him too, but I’m scared.
Selfish Love Letters 