The Waiting Game

[Gracie empties Thom's flask at the Washington Monument]

Damn, I HATE this game. I could use a drink myself.

Today was the day I was supposed to hear from the London Independent Film Festival to see if we got in, but haven't gotten any word from them. I have next to zero expectation of getting into that one anyway, but I just want to know.

Later this week I should find out if we made it into the Maryland Film Festival. I can't even talk about that one, it is too nerve-wracking. I am glad it is one of the first ones I will find out about, I don't want to wonder about it any longer.

For the next 11 weeks, I should be hearing from about one festival a week, yay or nay. I oscillate between being very excited about this, because it is something exciting to look forward to every week, to wringing my hands, wondering how I will feel if I start collecting one "NO" after the other? As my British friend Matthew would say, the whole thing, "does my head in."

But tonight I sat down with the big desk calendar and the colored mini-Sharpies I bought at Staples the other day, and logged all the info on the festivals I have submitted to so far: deadlines for submission (to those I haven't sent a DVD to yet), notification dates (when they tell me if I am in), and the dates of the actual festivals. This turned out to be a useful exercise in more ways than one. As I copied down the info from each festival, I was reminded exactly why I had submitted to each one, and that made me feel better, because I DO have specific reasons for submitting to almost all of them (though there are a few long shots in there for good measure. I love long shots. Ask anyone who has been to the track with me!). It had been awhile since I had thought of them each in such specifics, and lately I had been feeling like, oh dear lord, did I just waste a boatload of money submitting to festivals willy-nilly? And did I really just say "willy-nilly"?

But if course I didn't. That's not how I roll. I have reasons for (nearly) everything I do. I'm just nervous, that's all. Just like when I used to have photography exhibits. I would painstakingly develop and print the black and white photos myself, mat and frame them, measure the wires so they would all hang at the exact same height, curate so that the walls were well-balanced but interesting, and then worry that no one would show up. Then people would show up, and buy some photos, and everything was right with the world. Every artist I know feels the same way before every show. It is part of the process.

I want to talk more about it but I'm afraid I'll jinx myself, so I will leave it at that. I should have news for you soon, stay tuned, my faithful ones.

P.S. If you like my blog, I have found another you might like that sort of reminds me of mine, in that it is very first-person, taking you through the experience step by step, highs and lows, triumphs and roadblocks. This young man, Paul Ridley, just set a record for being the youngest American to row solo across the Atlantic Ocean, and did it to raise money for cancer research. He makes me look like a slacker. Check it out from the beginning, it is quite a journey of body and spirit: www.solorow.blogspot.com