Today, my head is filled with statistics. I happened to hear on BBC radio Thursday night an interview about the economy of the movie industry these days. It's been chattering in my brain for a few days. It doesn't sound that much different from the rest of the economy, being that if you're a big studio, you can get financing for films because you're sharing the burden of the risk. If you're an independent studio it gets more problematic, and individuals hoping to make films are back-burnered for financing for the foreseeable future. I betcha orchard financing looks about the same.
What this means is that last year 600 films were made and released (multiply that by 3 and you know how many scripts were in various stages of development), and this year 200 films were made and released. For the 200 films released this was good news because they got the lion's share of the movie-goer's dollar. Being in a recession means that more people went to the movies, too, and so the studios are actually coming out of this economic downturn smelling like roses. I bet agribusiness looks about the same.
So, that leaves me feeling I have little option but to write towards the potential market that has money to burn -- the studio. Ack. I have to find a reason in my heart to believe that a studio will be taking risks on unproven writers in the coming roller coaster business cycles. It feels hard. It feels innately competitive. It feels like I would have to focus 100% on the goal of writing the seamless script.
Am I talking myself into it, or out of it? Obviously, if I knew it was wrong or right, that would help. How could I possibly know? Hmmmmmmm. How does this feeling compare to the feeling of sitting in an orchard on a summer's day? Hmmmmmmm. Quite different. This feels more like a high-rise in a smoggy city. This feels more like grit your teeth in a cubicle and figure out a strategy on the computer screen. Hmmmmmmm. This feels like self-imposed stress, and also like a success that would require repeating it infinitum.
Though I understand the necessity of pursuing writing in such a way for many very ambitious people, for me it delivers nothing for me to stand on, to believe in. Therefore, I'm sitting down on this rock of fear I've stumbled upon and thinking of how to use it as a landscape feature rather than counting on it for any kind of nutrition. This landscape feature in my orchard represents the facts I know that simply have little bearing on what I truly want to accomplish. I can look at this big boulder and say, "Look. See? I know."
Then I can wait for the soil test to come back.