I have a board beside my bed. This year I pinned it with notecards of four different script competitions I entered my TV Comedy Pilot into, the dates of announcements, and what the prizes were.
A few came and went and I didn’t advance to a higher level, and that was fine. You get used to disappointment, and move on. With one, I ordered judge feedback, and was offered some disheartening notes on my 29 pages of work. They said there was no story, that they didn’t get a good grasp of the characters, they critiqued my rule breaking on things like the slugline and action description because I wasn’t doing it the way they thought it should be. Well maybe I’m just a rebel then.
Just before I’d gotten that feedback, and for their obvious reasons, did not advance in that competition, my pilot made it into the quarter-finals of a different screenplay competition – a universal contest with 6,300 entries, and I was one of the quarter-finalists. That was a huge success for me, and I loved sharing it with my friends, and family, and instructors and classmates.
It was a month until August when we’d hear about the semi-finalists. And would you believe it, I made that one too. I was starting to believe that I had something special in my hands. People far away from me, who didn’t know me at all, were into what I was writing about.
I could barely breathe come September. I repeated over and over in my head that there were far more talented people in this competition – in the TV Comedy category, that I would not make it into the top 250 overall, and the top 10 for my category. But then I did. I was split at this point. I wanted to win so bad, and I wanted to stay humble and graceful if I didn’t place. The top winner took home $25K and I tried not to let myself think of what I could do with that kind of money. I told myself that it was special just to be in the list of 250 finalists. The other places for each category were Gold, Silver, and Bronze, and if I didn’t make it, then someone more deserving got it, and it just wasn’t my time.
I couldn’t sleep this past week. My head was overloaded with thoughts of winning and losing, and people who were routing for me, and people I wanted to make proud, the self-esteem I wanted to feel for myself. I dreamt of quitting my job and the emails from producers and important execs from Hollywood – or better, Vancouver – who would want to work with me. It all kept me up until it was making me sick, and I relied on sleeping pills for a couple of forced nights – never waking up refreshed. Just waiting for Saturday to get here so I could get rid of this dread that I felt.
I had physio today for a work injury. I took the train home to stop off at the grocery store to pick toilet paper. I was near my stop when I thought I would check the Page International Screenwriting Awards Facebook page for the twentieth time. They’d announced the winners so I clicked with a shaky hand. I wasn’t the grand prize winner, but I kept scrolling.
And that’s when I saw my name. The first under TV Comedy Pilot for Gold. “Adulthood?” by Sam Macneil.
I stared at it so hard, afraid it would change if I blinked or looked away. The train arrived at my stop and I smiled while looking at my phone to the stairs and down to the street.
When it really hit me that it was my name on that winners list, I called my mom’s cell and I started freaking out, and she started freaking out with me, and it was ridiculous! Four long months and I got to celebrate a huge win for myself.
This is a huge win for myself. But not just for myself. This is a huge win for queers.
My TV series is about a group of queer friends, who, upon graduating college, are left wondering how to adult after realizing they are ill-prepared. With a transgender lead character named Ezra, it turned semi-autobiographical, and I get to write about real life situations that I’ve found myself in while being a queer adult. Friendship, and love, and discovering yourself as a grown-up human – all the things everyone experiences, but it’s important because it’s queer, and queer communities, and queer youth need to see themselves on the screen. It isn’t enough to have one token queer character. I’m showing the queer friend and relationship dynamics that happen when you find those who are your people.
And not only that, but I’m writing about intersectional feminism, polyamourous relationships, queer sex and empowered masturbation, queer identities, transitioning, body-positivity, challenging stereotypes, things that don’t get talked about like ableist language, race and white-washing in TV and film (Master of None by Aziz Ansari and Alan Yang do this so well and it’s been a huge inspiration to me on writing). I want this show to be revolutionary. A part of me thinks that I’m being too cocky because who am I? But I’m passionate if nothing else. And this could never be the show I want it to be without passion.
One of my first thoughts today at 1 pm in the toilet paper aisle, was of all the people in my life who I have to thank. Two of my instructors, Rick and Ita, were at the forefront of this in film school and helped turn it into something worth reading. My classmates who helped me workshop my pilot in class really have no idea just how much their feedback and notes and helpful criticism was valuable to me.
My best friend has read and edited every single episode I have written multiple times. They always tell me when something is off, and I’m always able to make it better after the edit. They are my sounding board for every new idea I have for Adulthood. They’re so invested in my dream that they think about scenes for the show on their own time and relay them back to me. My fellow writer roommate and I speak in “writer” at home and often talk about our characters as if they’re friends of ours. I’ve been lucky to have two handfuls of friends who have wanted to read the pilot and following episodes (up to episode 7, and working on 8), whether they have notes for me, or just want to see me explode with smiles. Friends who have kept me calm and breathing or allowed me to vent, you’ve been amazing.
This has been a great and overwhelming day. I’m excited and scared of the future.
I’m the luckiest duck today and always to have this win, but more importantly, to have these people in my life.
Here’s to this adulthood.