Nassim Nicholas Taleb notes in his book, BLACK SWAN, that we are creatures of revisionist history: we edit history as we see fit, giving cause or linking relationships between events that aren’t there. It’s part of human nature he says, to search for meaning in daily occurrences. If we don’t find it, we’ll make it up.
Which helped me realize this blog (in its half dozen itinerations, but especially in this current version) is an exercise of revisionist history as I work in the entertainment industry. I edit, filter, and draw causal relationships between events, hunting for logic that may or may not be there. And I do these things in the face of two truths:
One: I don’t know what I’m doing.
I base my decisions on my personal value system, my limited knowledge of the entertainment terrain, and the advice of my peers who are in similar positions. Yet at times I catch myself writing as if this was all part of the grand master plan I concocted while I was still in New York.
There is however, perverse comfort in the belief that most everyone in the entertainment field is groping blindly in the dark – some are just less aware of it than others.
The second truth is that in my effort to “make it” in entertainment, and to make it as a writer, I revise and filter my writing about making it in the entertainment and writing. Voices whisper each time I sit:
“Don’t write about how you view the executive/assistant relationship – what if you want an assistant job?”
“Don’t sound optimistic or hopeful about this prospect – you’ll sound naïve. Or worse, desperate.”
“Don’t call out certain rude tendencies of professionals in this industry – what if you offend someone?”
“Don’t talk too much about what or who you love – what if it changes? What if you have to take it back?”
These all boil down to fears I think a lot of us share: what if I’m held accountable for what I write? What if I have to make a stand? What if I upset the wrong people?
A solution is to write anonymously. Take my picture off this site, change the URL, and take cover behind the shroud of a pseudonym. But I think this is a cheat solution. As Travie McCoy of Gym Class Heroes so eloquently put it:
“Bitches post anonymous.”
A more acceptable solution starts by making a few admissions. I admit that most days:
- I don’t know what I’m doing.
- I am scared I’m doing the wrong things.
- I wish someone would reassure me, “you’re doing the right thing.”
I also admit that every day:
- I am accountable for my words. For what I say and write.
- I can do good work without knowing “what am I going to get out of this?”
- I should focus more on being honest and making a stand, and less on upsetting others.
Photo Credit: Stepzh
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On meaning: It’s as crucial as air. Whatever our circumstances, profession, or ambitions. Fortunately, unlike air, we can invent more meaning. Even in a meaning vacuum, we just make up more. Half empty: Our lives are built on lies. Half full: This is testament to the importance of imagination.
On “I don’t know what I’m doing.” As a murder suspect on “The First Forty-Eight” said to his interrogator: “I don’t know nothing about nobody doing nothing.”