Dear Readers,
Someone on Twitter asked their timeline, “What is this era of your life titled?” and it brought me some pause. I like these kinds of questions, lol. They can be pretty flat and sometimes, meant more for entertainment than some real depth, but instead of reading them and scrolling by, I pondered on it. After a bit of thought, I pressed repost when the first thing that felt true came to mind: the title of this post.
I will not take credit for it, as good as it sounds. This was told to me by my therapist during an emergency session I had called her in for. See, the day prior, while at work, I marched up to my company’s Head of Physical Production (I worked for a pretty well-known production company most notable for its films, but who also made TV) and asked her for 10 minutes of her time; that was all I would need. We snuck into an empty office where I sat across from her and gave her a spiel of my journey from New York to New Orleans to Los Angeles, my dream, my smooth career climb, and that most importantly, I was ready to transition out of working in creative development for film and into my next thing: getting into a TV writer’s room. It was a mission I gave myself at the top of the year, January 2023, to make it into one by the Fall.
Fast forward to October, and the writer’s strike had just ended, things in production were coming back up, and my chance was nigh. She was in charge of setting that room up for the Showrunner of a television show the company was producing, and so there was no better person than the one who had all of the ins and outs of that process.
I sat across from her with the confidence of, “Put me in the game, coach.” So when she asked what she could do for me, I made it plain:
“I want more. I can DO more. I love that where I’m at has taught me so much, and it’s made me an even greater asset to move on to greater things. And now, I want those greater things. So, with that being said… Is there a spot for me in the writer’s room?”
She was eager after hearing me. Eager that I was so upfront. She thought about it and brought the SVP of TV Production into the room so we could discuss what was left. That’s when she mentioned the Showrunner’s Assistant position. “I wanna be clear, though,” she briefed. “I believe she’s leaning on a candidate right now, so the most I can get you is an interview with her. How’s that?”
“I’ll take it! That’s all I need. I can handle the rest.”
“Good, good. Send me your resume as soon as possible; the writer’s room opens in 9 days and we wanna secure the team ASAP.”
I was beaming as we stood up to exit, me thanking her profusely. Suddenly, excruciatingly suddenly… as I climbed the stairs to head back to my desk, I was seized with a panic that overrode the confidence that got me through that conversation.
9 days? I started to do the math:
—If I get the job, I’d have to start after next week’s weekend.
—That would be less than two week’s notice to resign from my current job.
—And my role… would my bosses be able to find someone in time?
—Would they decline the opportunity from me because of this?
—If Johnny had 2 apples—
It suddenly felt too good to be true. On top of that, I’d be an assistant again. Was that a regression? I’ve been assisting for three years since starting my official entry into the industry. I’d be doing it AGAIN?
At that moment, I realized that before I sent this resume in, I needed the people I trusted to remind me of who I am and what I want. So I set an 8 am session with my therapist for the next morning, where I spilled all the beans the minute we said our hellos. She cheered for my assertiveness, but before she could get comfortable in it, I swooped in with all of my fears. I told her it felt too quick, too easy. “I’d have to leave my position as soon as possible if I get it. And I’d have to assist again. I don’t know, what if I leave without feeling like I’ve made a good and well thought out decision and I fuck everything up for me?”
She blinked. She shook her head and looked at me like I was insane. After a moment, she said:
“Cynthia. Remember what you promised yourself earlier this year? Remember when, before this meeting even happened, before the writer’s strike had ended, you had told me two months ago that by this time today, you were going to quit this job even if nothing was waiting for you on the other side?… How many times over the past few years of your transition did the next thing come to you quickly and you had to move with haste, and you did so, successfully finding your footing every time?”
Funny. That was what I had told the Head of Physical Production when I gave my spiel. I had charted my path because I knew it. I knew then who I was, enough to vouch for my preparedness.
My therapist continued: “And okay, you’re an assistant again. So? You will assist until you don’t have to. Because you need to learn the ins and outs. I can understand if you stayed an assistant for three years for the same company and no change happened. But you assisted on film sets for a year in New Orleans. Then moved to LA and assisted in the creative development of feature films for a year and change. And now, you’d be assisting in TV creation. You didn’t stay in one place. With each assistant job, you assisted the TOP person and learned FIRST HAND on how to make something. Do you know how strong that makes you? On sets, in studio, and now in a writer’s room? Cyyyynthiaaaaa…”
At this point, I was almost embarrassed at my fears.
My therapist finished with: “You just turned 33 years old. You’re not creating a new phase of your life, you’re stepping into a new LIFE, all in itself. New lessons are underway, and so old thought patterns and habits have to die. Especially this obedience to perfection. Where you’re going, perfection cannot come with you. And no better place will teach you that, in your field, than a writer’s room can. It will show you how to collaborate, how to figure a story out, how to fuck up and be held by a team of people fucking up with you, and it’s so important for you to know that. Because you are too precious with your stories and you need to know how NOT to be. This era of your life is about dropping perfection and finding out how great imperfection is. Because once you learn that, it’ll prepare you to share your work without fear. And you need this. You NEED this. You better give them your resume, ace that interview, and take this damn job.”
Guys.
I sent my resume in an hour later. The next day, I got an email with an interview scheduled for the next week. The next Tuesday, I sat on Zoom with the Showrunner and shared myself so authentically, that I got a call from the TV show’s creative development director two hours later saying that the Showrunner wanted me. I immediately said yes, and the next day, I told my boss I was leaving. He gave his complete blessing, and by that Friday, I had resigned while doing all my paperwork for the new job. Come that NEXT Monday, in 9 days, I was in the room.
It happened fast. And I’m not sure I’ve recovered from how fast it happened, lol. But it’s been a whole month and all of the imperfections my therapist told me about, I’m experiencing. And it is EXCITING.
I have to say, deep down, I was probably gonna do all this anyway. I was probably gonna shoot the shit and find out what God was finna hand me in my obedience to meet a new part of myself. But had she not said what she said… I don’t know. I might have entered into this more nervous than I was.
“Perfection cannot come with you.”
It is a compelling thing, the writer’s room. Nine of us in total, one showrunner, three exec-producers/head writers, two staff writers, one script coordinator, one writer’s assistant, and then me. And during the first week, I felt like I was sitting at the table of a TV show writer’s room intensive course.
And in the room, we join together to tell a story. And there are many parts of the story that we know, or think we know, or know for a fact that we have no idea about, lol. Which is the part of all of this that’s so fascinating. The writers all lean into the not knowing and the tumbling through, as well as the questions they have to ask and answer to get to the point of the narrative. Not the PERFECTION of the narrative, but the bricks that we must lay to make this world a home we’ll be able to come back to over and over without feeling unstable.
I think that’s enough, most times. We go for the pursuit of perfection when what we really want is the contentment that this thing won’t fall on us. It’s a foundation. Because what even is perfection?
per·fec·tion
/pərˈfekSH(ə)n/
noun
the condition, state, or quality of being free or as free as possible from all flaws or defects.
Hmm.
I’m no expert, of course. All I have is research, experience, and curiosity. But. I think flaws have saved me and given me more grace than perfection ever has. In my pursuits of fighting flaws away, I will tuck myself into a claustrophobic room of lies. I would constantly put myself in an environment that promotes no growth. Because the beginning, the middle, and the end are always met with a little wreckage.
And it is always WHAT we do with the wreckage that graduates us from this here to this there.
My entire make was made out of defective circumstances that needed our showing up to see what could come from it. Perfection, that dark and stuffy room, gives flaws too much power. Because every piece of the puzzle aligns, and those flaws can add color.
So when God brings me a challenge, what He really wants to bring me is more color. To dance within a rainbow of possibilities. And perfection will get in the way if I let it.
I’m… kind of excited to share with you guys what I find here, in this room, and then in my interpretation of the world. I’m not sure what enjoying flaws can even look like, but I have a feeling we all do it often and just don’t know it. Or we do and feel so much shame for accepting it.
Anyway, that’s it for now. I hope your week was wonderful. And if not, that something came from it to keep.
And I hope that this week brings you contentment, perfection be damned.
Love,
Cyn
The art featured in this post is by the infamous multidisciplinary collage artist and photographer, Lorna Simpson (b. 1960), included in her photography book titled, ‘Lorna Simpson Collages’, which debuted in 2018 from Chronicle Books.
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