Been grinding for 15 years at this. And some days are tough as hell. Having a dream while grinding in day jobs is hard. You're giving other folks the majority of your time while trying to give it to yourself. You don't ever really relax. And the rejection? Shit, folks have no idea. Ain't nobody rejected more than writers, not even actors when we're really grinding. One year, I submitted to over a 100 playwriting contests and was a finalist or won 10 of them. That's why when folks get to bitchin' about stuff, I can't even hear that.
The rejection makes me work harder though. I have dreams and they're bigger than me, bigger than this city. I like LA, but it ain't for punks. True friends are few and so, too, are the breaks. But you swim or you drown, even when you only have $20 to your name, you find $100 so you can make $1,000. The victories are few and far but you slave at the craft, often in isolation while folks post their wins, parties, and relationships and photos of the vacation they just came from. What vacation? What party? I'll party when the bank account is fatter.
Mine is coming though. I gotta believe it. Like my best friend Ano reminded me last night, this industry doesn't exist without writers like us. Nobody works unless we crank out the scripts. Directors, executives, actors, tech crew, publicists, etc. Nobody. So, in the words of Bey, "Bow down bitches." Some of these industry folks forget that and treat us like we're peons, but we know better. We just gotta act like it.
Dreams ain't free and the work is harder than horse shit in the winter. But three books and countless plays later I'm still standing. And this pilot, well, let's just say it's the first of many. The women I'm creating are strong and have no problem kicking ass and not because they're perfect, but because they're just doing what they have to do to survive in this crazy world. Kinda like the writer who created them.
Anyway, keep grinding, y'all. I'll see you at the Emmys or Golden Globes or Oscars or whatever.
That's it, that's all.