on being seen trying

via R. Michelson Galleries

Recently, I’ve had a bit of a creative awakening, which I’ve lowkey been soft launching on this newsletter for a while. This awakening rekindled my desire to pursue screenwriting as a career – a dream that, in the immediate years after college, I suppressed because I didn’t think I’d ever make enough money or because film industry people are annoying or because [insert some other half-baked excuse here.]

Ultimately, I realized, I wasn’t allowing myself to pursue screenwriting because I was afraid. And yet, whenever I let myself fantasize what I would actually want to do with my life, the answer was clear.

“We have been raised to fear the yes within ourselves, our deepest cravings. But, once recognized, those which do not enhance our future lose their power and can be altered. The fear of our desires keeps them suspect and indiscriminately powerful, for to suppress any truth is to give it strength beyond endurance.” - Audre Lorde in Uses of The Erotic

So now, I’m writing a pilot. Which is embarrassing.

Actually. The pilot, itself, is not embarrassing. It’s a great idea! It’s funny! I laugh outloud to myself while I’m working on it! But talking about the pilot is embarrassing.

Whenever someone confronts me about my pilot (read: asks about it with genuine curiosity) I tense up. My neck starts to itch. I am quick to change the subject to something else. Anything else. Please. 

Talking about my pilot is embarrassing for a few reasons:

1. I know how hard it is not to roll your eyes whenever someone starts talking about “my pilot.” It’s almost as bad as “my podcast”. Maybe worse. I guess it helps that I’m somewhat of a Diverse Voice™️ and not just some guy. But still.

2. It’s embarrassing to talk about the pilot because it’s about me. Like literally. The show is about a Black girl who starts to question religion while attending a Christian university. That’s soooo me-coded. Some might call it a docuseries even.

3. It’s embarrassing because I’m trying. Which, no matter how much love-and-light you try to pin to it, is always slightly cringe.

My friend, roommate and creative collaborator, Liat Rubin, has a term that she’s coined called “nerdy vulnerable.” It’s a bit of an amorphous term that, at times, can be used to describe how one might feel during an awkward or uncomfortable interaction. But more than that, “nerdy vulnerable” might be best described as a vibe or an energy. A way in which those of us who a) did not grow up conventionally attractive and b) have big feelings carry ourselves in situations and spaces where earnestness is not the default. People who are nerdy vulnerable value connection over coolness. Honesty as a means of being seen. 

Being a writer, I would say, is inherently nerdy vulnerable. As is talking about writing. So much of writing is just letting yourself be seen. As uncomfortable as that is, for some reason I keep choosing it. Over and over again.

I’m trying to get better about talking about the pilot. Sometimes writing the pilot can feel like this isolated thing that lives on my computer and isn’t actually real. Talking about it gives it form. And stakes. It gives people something to follow up on.

Recently, I was at a dinner where someone asked me about it and I covered my face with embarrassment like a little baby. But then, I took a deep breath and I talked about it. I said what it was. And people were interested. And had follow-up questions. Someone even brought up a show that it reminded them of. And I was like “Yes! That’s exactly what it’s like!” And I relished in the feeling of someone else getting it.

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Some things I’ve read recently:

I recently started following a newsletter called, Starting From the Nix on Substack. Every newsletter so far has been a banger so it’s really hard to choose just one to recommend, but this one on finding the right people was really great:

finding the right people

I also loved this newsletter from Ms Danielle Writes on embracing her quiet era, because same:

Embracing My Quiet Era.

And last but not least, this interview with Ali Wong in The Cut was really inspiring. Here’s my favorite line:

“I don’t generally talk about my family that much. I definitely don’t talk about my husband’s family that much. If you’ve noticed, I don’t do in-law jokes. I’m really protective of my personal life. In addition to my fear of being unfunny, I do not want to become an ungrounded person. I would find that deeply embarrassing.”

Grounded queen.

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