[NoHo Arts District, CA] – This month’s The State of Show Business: “Procrastination.”
I walk into the house. I plant my keys in the key bowl next to the front door, just in case a burglar needs a getaway car. I make my way into the kitchen, put the kettle on to boil, and go into my studio. Today, I promised myself I would finish the outline for my next film which will be shot in Belgium next April. I turn on my computer and the three monitors fire up on cue. My two iPads complete the five screens on my desktop and I am ready to go. Time for some writing. But first, the kettle whistles and I leave my desk with my smart cup ready to fill it with the divine amber liquid. Within minutes I am back with my tea and staring once again at a blank screen.
Perhaps I should check my emails from my agent. Or, maybe scroll through my iMessages just in case I missed an offer to direct or write a new film. I have it. I’ll go on my IMDb Pro account and check my StarMeter. This is what I call “My Procrastination Way.” It is a method by which I avoid the whole purpose of having this much computer power to write a script, an email, or this bloody outline that is due in less than a week. I count this form of procrastination as writing. Why may you ask? Because once I actually start writing, it is hard for me to stop.
Personally, I strongly believe that thinking about a project counts as writing. Almost everything I do regarding the concept of the story, the plot, the character, planning and plotting toward the production, and, hopefully, directing counts as writing. So, when does the actual writing occur? It happens when I look into the blank screen and decide that if I don’t put words unto this white landscape of dread, I will not be able to travel to Belgium, collaborate with fellow filmmakers and make a movie. Nothing happens without the story being written down. It is the alpha before the omega.
Procrastination is real, and in some cases, it can keep you from working to your full potential. On the other hand, I equate procrastination with anticipation. As if I were standing over a very high cliff, the lapping water way down below me, either inviting me, or dissuading me to jump. It is the momentary pause before any great or lousy work of art begins. Do I jump? Do I write? Do I create? Or, do I stand at the edge of the cliff and just watch. Today, I decided to jump.