I think success in anything is all about finding the right balance. “He’d have to say, ‘O.K., I’ll be part of this world.'” A man would have to put his soul at hazard. But, I don’t want to push my chips forward and go out and meet something I don’t understand. I always knew you had to be willing to die to even do this job. Can’t help but wonder how they would have operated these times. You can’t help but compare yourself against the oldtimers. I always liked to hear about the oldtimers. Gaston Boykins wouldn’t wear one up in Comanche County. Jim Scarborough’d never carried one that’s the younger Jim. Some of the old time sheriffs never even wore a gun. Me and him was sheriffs at the same time him up in Plano and me out here. You still got your gloves on, you son of a bitch.“I was sheriff of this county when I was twenty-five years old. But you could also float like a butterfly and sting like a bee. Yeah, so you're cut, your bruised like week-old fruit, you're a sad sack of anxieties and feel like you're a no good hack. You can hear Mickey, in your corner, shouting in his gruff, old man's voice, "Hey, I didn't hear no bell!" He's right. Now, don't get cocky, the fight is still roaring around you. Somewhere, deep down in that psyche of yours, you can hear the crowd going wild for you. but you gotta be willing to take the hits and not pointing fingers saying you ain't where you want to be because of him, or her, or anybody. How much you can take, and keep moving forward. Like my good friend and yours, Mister Rocky Balboa, said: ".it ain't about how hard you hit, it's about how hard you can get him, and keep moving forward. The good news is you can get the fuck back up before the bell dings to end the fight. That doesn't mean that your concept isn't exactly what they want, but folks are a little more weary on pulling the trigger on unknowns, so you get clipped on the chin or get served with a wallop to the temple. It has to be marketable and have an audience from ages 1 to 100. Financial pressures and four-quadrant thinking has overridden the industry, and it is no longer enough for the studio to like your script. We cannot force a studio to buy our script we cannot force a festival to give us the award so that CAA or WME can read our brilliant martians versus Bigfoot opus. We must remember that while we bleed and strain our souls onto electronic paper, the end result of that sweaty creation process is sadly not up to us. Should rejection negate their worth, or my talent, in my eyes? The answer, and I think you know this, is of fucking course not. I believed in the scripts I submitted as good and interesting and fun and worthy. So, what does rejection mean? Am I wrong? Were the ones who rejected me right? The trick is to duck, dodge, and keep swinging. Sometimes the prize can blur behind a vale of tears, or when a left hook cuts you above the eye and sticky red stuff pours down your face let's call this rejection. And boy, you come out swingin' like a son of a bitch. The bell dings and you enter the ring the moment you first put writing utensil to paper. I turned 36 on the 26th of April, and as I approach my 40s it starts to sink in how long I've been in the fight and thought it was a good time to reevaluate my fighting stance, wipe my brow, and check my knuckles for cuts. This is what this column is for, to breathe life. A gentle reminder, or sometimes a vigorous push, to help you course correct and keep you in the fight. Please continue to share your inspirations with me. I am humbled that it lit a few fires and stoked a few others. Current whereabouts are unknown… Follow Jose on Twitter: to tweet to your friends and followers!įirst, I'd like to thank the friends, old and new, who enjoyed and disseminated the first article in this column. Jose Prendes has written multiple films and novels, including his latest film The Divine Tragedies and novel, Sharcano, which is as awesome as it sounds and can be found here with his other books.
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