I recently came across an old fan e-mail I sent to an actress six years ago. It got me thinking. This single embarrassing act might actually be the sole reason for my entire career thus far.
Let me explain.
Back in 2008, I was a film-student at Syracuse University (go Orange) and feeling hopelessly stagnant and impatient to start living my movie dreams. Always the odd (wo)man out, my cinematic interests didn’t quite line-up with my peers. I was neither the Spielbergian wunderkind nor the Warhol-esque video artist that littered the film department but rather an abstruse overly-enthusiastic day-dreamer with bizarre ideas that baffled my professors.
At the time I was slightly obsessed with the NBC show Heroes because hello, how could a geeky kid not want to be immersed in a world where suddenly anyone can have powers? So when I read about an actress who won a coveted role on the superhero drama in the newspaper, I decided to look her up.
Her name was Brea Grant and by all opinions she was the coolest nerd on the entire planet. Plus she had a dog with an old lady name. I sent her an e-mail, THE e-mail, congratulating her on the part, her love for comics, the dog… It is cringe worthy but in some weird twist of fate, she decided to respond to my awkward exclamations. A seed was planted that would blossom into not only a wonderful friendship that I treasure but an actual real life filmmaking career.
Through our correspondence Brea introduced me to many things: the word “rad”, something called veganism, the fashionable advantages of dreadlocks, and a small website called Twitter. I immediately joined! All of a sudden, I was part of a community that expanded my small stifling life in Syracuse into something more. The entire world was at my fingertips and I began to build relationships with people that had the same passions and goals as myself but who were actually living them! I was eager to share a connection and I’m sure they found my naivete and optimism refreshing. We would discuss films, comics, literature, horror; all the culture I was deprived of. And more than once I sent poor Brea and company a script or an outline to read. They offered me nothing but unadulterated support and I am eternally grateful for that.
Over the next few years, as I finished school, I cultivated these friendships carefully. When it was finally time for me to make the big move to Hollywoodland in 2011, I could do so with a full heart knowing that I wasn’t walking into completely unknown territory. These cyber-mentors graciously gave me my first three gigs: An internship, a 2nd AD position, and an unclassifiable role where I watched HIMYM, ate take-out, and offered emotional support to a first-time Producer while I organized invoices. I think they call that being a production assistant.
These jobs led to instant connections with more amazing creative people. My circles expanded and friendship flowed like PBR at a hipster bar. Recommendations for jobs were given. And within a year, I had joined Brea on her directorial debut Best Friends Forever and had become an Associate Producer on the award-winning-show Eastsiders. I was making a difference! I was making projects that I was utterly proud to be involved in. I soon found myself in a position where I could show my appreciation by paying-it-forward. For the first time, I had people asking ME for jobs and advice. The cycle of production life was entering it’s reincarnation, only this time, I was the baboon holding the lion cub on Pride Rock.
I had an epiphany then.
Many people view show business as a selfish endeavor but my experiences have proven otherwise. Successful networking (which is apparently what I was doing for the last 6 years) shouldn’t be a favor bartering system. It should be about making connections with people you truly love and respect and whom you wish every success in life. Don’t give and take but give and be satisfied that the universe with return in kind. We are all in this together. Sometimes it just takes an old e-mail from the teenage version of you to remember that.