No, I Didn’t Know I Wanted to be a Writer - Part One

See, it’s a question often asked of writers on podcast interviews: “Did you always know you wanted to be a writer?” While it may feel like a throwaway question to some, I love it because I enjoy hearing how different authors who I admire or are learning about for the first time went about their own journey. It’s also one I have thought about often, sitting in traffic on I-40 headed to and from work, how I would answer if I ever got asked, and the answer is this: Not exactly.

See, growing up, I was not a reader. Zero interest. No, that love, as you'll see, didn’t take root until much later. Sure, as a kid of the late 90s/early 00s, I read a few of the standards along with the then ever-growing popular series about a certain boy wizard, but as a whole, I couldn’t have cared less about reading. Which would have made wanting to be a novel writer pretty damn difficult.

No, what held my interest then, and to a considerable extent still does today, was movies. My favorite thing was to collect the stubs of the movies I saw, and I couldn’t wait until my parent’s Friday morning paper arrived so I could scan the start times of the latest releases. I realized at an early age that all those movies I loved (and 100% watched way too young) were not just a product that I got to enjoy in the theater but a love affair of hundreds of people who each painstakingly put in all their effort to make that movie, good or bad, a reality. Specifically, I realized that just before the movie started, as the opening credits finished and the film began, it always ended with a Written by and Directed by credit. 

Can you see where this is going? Like I said, not exactly.

I remember when I finished my first screenplay, though calling it a Scriptment would be a more apt title, in the 8th grade. It was called “Sons of the Mob,” and it was written on loose leaf college ruled notebook paper torn from my Five-Star binder, each sheet stapled to the next until the top left corner had about twenty staples and weighed close to a pound. I cast my neighborhood friends as leads and opened with one of the character’s fathers opening the door to his home only to get blasted away by an unseen assailant. While I wasn’t a reader, I had seen all the Die Hards, Lethal Weapons, and Godfathers by the time I was 12. I’m sure there is something to unpack there, but I digress. 

So, how would I answer the “Did you always know…” question? Like this: Not exactly. What I knew then and still know now is that I wanted to tell stories. In that regard, yes, I always knew I wanted to entertain people. Only the medium was different.

I went to school for screenwriting and directing and by the end of my senior year, I was well on my way to making my dream a reality. I spent the winter of my senior year directing a short film starring Donald Faison of Scrubs fame for Coca-Cola/Sprite. After college, I got my first internship with a production company that produced the Robert Pattinson and Pierce Brosnan movie Remember Me. Eventually, I landed my first paid job with a literary management company whose clients included the writers of Bone Tomahawk and the Maze Runner film series and were staffed on shows like Bones, Person of Interest, and The Following. Finally, I followed that up with being the personal assistant to an unscripted reality TV producer who was looking to break into scripted television, and I was going to be on the ground floor.

It was too bad I enjoyed the idea of working in the film industry more than actually working in it.

See, while working each of those jobs, I would fire out of the gate, being all I could be, going above and beyond. They said jump, I said how high and how far. But I became bored easily, the peak honeymoon periods always giving way to valleys of disinterest and sagging job performance. Before I could be let go, I would find the new job and start all over again. Now, fourteen years later, I know it to be a harsh symptom of my ADHD, but as I shared in my last post, that’s its own topic for another day. With each lull of interest in the work, I found things that excited me elsewhere, most notably, the L.A. party scene. Clichés are clichés for a reason. Ultimately this pattern of destructive behavior made me a shit employee, a shit roommate, and worse even, a shit friend to a lot of people. And writing screenplays? The thing I went to school for, the thing I wanted more in this world than anything since I was twelve years old? It couldn’t have been further down the list of priorities. 

Then, one day, while still working for the reality TV producer, when I was at a bit of a low point with not much savings to my name since most of my paychecks were being drunk at “networking events” Tuesday-Saturday, the best thing that ever happened to me occurred: I got fired. And not in the “it’s just not working out” kind of way, but the “holy hell, you need to get your shit figured out” kind of way. Jeff, if you ever read this, sincerely, thank you.

It was the best thing to ever happen to me for two reasons. First, it was the wakeup call I needed, my rock bottom that set me on the path I am still on today. Second, with hardly any money in the bank, rent due in three weeks, and deciding I needed to move back to North Carolina to get my life together, I watched on my laptop in bed, packing boxes all around me, the 2011 adaptation of Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy. 

As I watched the credits this time, a credit I had so often overlooked randomly stuck out to me: Based on the Novel by John Le Carré. With the few dollars I did have, my dad soon to get on a plane to come and drive home with me in a week’s time, I went to Barnes and Noble and picked up a copy of the book with that stunning Penguin cover to see how it differed from the movie. 

And. I. Was. Hooked! 

I read the book cover to cover, savoring every word of it and entertained as could be. I must have read it two or three times that month. Once I got home, found a temp job as a substitute teacher, and started saving again, the little money I set aside for “fun” didn’t go to movies; it went to my now enormous book collection. I started by finishing out the Karla trilogy. Then, it was on to more contemporary writers. I found The Trinity Six by Charles Cumming (which still sits next to the laptop this is being typed on), then A Foreign Country. From there, I started to read any espionage, thriller, and crime story I could get my hands on. I learned quickly that while I enjoyed the occasional shoot-em-up by Vince Flynn, Brad Thor and the like, my tastes skewed very heavily British to more nuanced, character-driven spy stories like Cumming, Le Carré, Deighton, and Forsythe and more.

I was a reader.

But I still wanted to be “in the movies.” It was now Spring 2013, and I had been home in N.C. for about four months when I landed a job in Raleigh. It paid well. My sister and her family opened their home to me so I could bank everything and then move back to Los Angeles in 2014. I had a support system who was entirely behind me, and with my life turned around, I knew I was going to go back out to Los Angeles bigger and better and ready to “break in” to the film industry.

Then, on June 4, 2013, the darndest thing happened. I met my future wife. Word to the wise, if you don’t know much about art, don’t take the art history major to a museum. You will get lots of points for trying, but you will also sweat through your red polo shirt with nerves trying to impress her and look like you just got out of a swimming pool. She’ll tell you later it was adorable, but even with one kid and another on the way, you still won’t be quite sure you believe her. Though our date got off to an awkward and sweaty start, it ended eight hours later after we kept finding things to do around Durham just so that it wouldn’t end. I drove home that night knowing I didn’t want to do a thing that would take me away from her.

My dream of living in Los Angeles and working in the film industry? Gone. I had other plans now.

If only it were that simple, right? 

To be continued…

Subscribe below to have Part 2 delivered right to your inbox.