Who Shall I Be in This World?
When we moved closer to the mountains in November I found myself in constant need of a knife to cut boxes and a multi-tool to change batteries or do even the most basic repairs. I haven’t carried a pocket knife since I was a kid and even then it was a passing interest. I’ve never been “handy” by any stretch of the imagination but I felt a compulsion to start working on that. Luckily, a couple of years ago my aunt and uncle gave me a fixed blade for Christmas and at some point during one of his visits my dad left me one of his Leatherman tools.
I made a habit of putting one in my pocket every day and I was instantly surprised how often they came in handy, not just for myself but for other people. In fact, I enjoyed it so much that I picked up a new Swiss army knife for the first time in thirty some years. A week or so ago, Julie asked me, “How many knives do you have?” My first response was, “On me, right now?”
One evening while we were walking Ellie I noticed all of the longtime residents were carrying flashlights. After our first close encounter with a coyote I realized why. I was used to them in the old neighborhood, or walking around Brand Park at night. But up here, in the foothills, in the fog, it’s a whole different ballgame. I went to the hardware store the next day and bought a quality pocket flashlight to carry on the walk. I might have gone a little overboard because now I can light up half a city block.
I like obsessing about new paraphernalia. I spent a lot of time on YouTube over the past month watching reviews of pocket knives and flashlights. But I also enjoy how these two simple tools make me feel more prepared and capable in this new environment. Not only can I better take care of myself, I can also jump in to lend someone else a hand.
It’s the same reason I like always having a set of jumper cables in my car. I rarely need them for myself but every few months I run across someone in need of a jump and it feels great to be there to help. One of my lowest points in December was the night I was walking around Brand Park with Ellie and came across a woman with a dead battery and no cables. I told her, “No problem, I’ll be right back with mine,” only to discover that we’d accidentally taken them out during the move. I felt terrible going back and saying, “Uh, actually…”
This past week I was battling a sinus infection from traveling over Christmas. I took a lot of meds, drank a lot of green juice, and fell asleep at odd hours of the day. Because of that, I didn’t feel much like reflecting on the past year or thinking about goals and wishes for the new one. This newsletter is kind of an ongoing chronicle of my goals and wishes and a constant interrogation of what worked and what didn’t. Not to mention, we just went through a big “out with the old, in with the new” season here and if you’ve been reading this for longer than a month you already know that story.
But then I was driving around the other day and for some reason I remembered a question I heard Michael Mann talking about in his episode of the WTF podcast with Marc Maron. In many of his films his characters are wrestling with the core dilemma, “Who shall I be in this world?”
Thinking about that question seemed more urgent than pondering the scripts I want to write this year, the business moves I want to make, the financial goals I want to hit, the weight I want to lose, or the places I want to visit. It cut to a deeper level and pulled me out of my Mucinex and NyQuil induced brain fog.
Who do I want to be, for myself and other people in 2023?
I know the instinctual answers. I want to be a good person. Someone with honor and integrity, who leads with respect and kindness. I want to be of service to others. I want to be in a continual process of expansion, resistant to the inevitable urge to contract. Someone who is prepared for difficult times and capable of adapting.
Those are lofty goals, but what does that look like on a practical level? What are the day to day practices that make treating people with kindness and respect second nature? Some days I feel pretty good about my ability to do those things but what if acting with a bit more intention leads to 5% improvement? Some of that work is internal. Some of it is simple and external.
Like carrying a pocket knife.
This brings me to the business of making movies and television.
Earlier this week I was a guest on the year end roundup of Ben Blacker’s Writer’s Panel podcast, which you can listen to here!
It was a genuinely fun conversation but it was also fairly alarming. There is so much uncertainty in the business right now, things are changing so quickly, that it feels impossible to predict where we might be in a year. One of the biggest clouds on the horizon is a potential WGA strike. I truly have no idea what’s going to happen. I do know from recent history that when these cataclysmic events occur it offers us an opportunity to look out for one another. I know I want to be the kind of person who is ready to jump in and help other people if and when it comes to that. Now I have to think about how to prepare for that.
One of the things I mentioned on the podcast is that I think it’s even more important now to have some creative work or outlet that’s within your control. That could be a short film, a podcast, an audio drama, short stories, a novel, a comic book or graphic novel, a newsletter, anything that you have some measure of control over that brings you joy and offers you a chance to connect with other people.
In the past I’ve talked about these things as sort of back door ways to create IP but looking ahead at this year, I think they’re also going to be important survival mechanisms. In a time when hundreds of new movies and television shows are released every year, when it’s harder and harder to find an audience that will keep you going for five seasons, when an entire feature film can get shelved for a tax write-off, when even the prospect of making a decent living as a writer seems up in the air, it would be easy to contract in fear. I don’t want to be fearful. I want to be a self-sufficient artist, capable of generating my own opportunities and adapting to the changing environment.
Thinking about all of this over the past couple of days gave me a shot of adrenaline going in to the coming week. I’m glad I didn’t miss the chance to celebrate the turning of the year. Sure, it can be kind of a cliche, “new year, new you,” making goals and resolutions that we may quickly forget in a few weeks time. But there is also some elemental power in the fact that so many people are doing it together. And if it leads to even 5% improvement… well, that’s not nothing.
If you’re still reading this newsletter, I want you to know how much I appreciate you. I’ll be back to adding more practical writing tools in the coming weeks, as well as filling you in on any developments as things ramp back up.
I wish you and your loved ones a Happy New Year!
I really appreciate you! So much of what you write here is something I can easily identify with. Happy New Year, my friend!
I love that photo, and I guess for 2023 I just hope to be as kind as possible and helpful to people in whatever small ways I can be. I'm really becoming a hermit after retiring and I am wrestling with trying to make myself go do something, anything, because I really love being at home but is it good for me? That's undecided I guess.
My husband has always carried a Swiss army knife and I'm still surprised at how handy it is. I noticed it sitting in the tv room after he left for CA (he usually has it packed in his checked bag) and I wonder if he's missing it.