The 100th Corner: On Never Giving Up

/21 Comments/in , /by

What a difference a year makes. One year ago, I was reeling from abrupt setbacks and disappointments. My beloved dog of 13 years had passed, my job suddenly changed, and my writing aspirations continued to elude me.

When I was 21, an optimistic college graduate whose future shown bright with possibility, my path had been clear. I wanted to be a writer, a filmmaker. I wanted to create stories that captured magic and hope and love, like Spielberg’s E.T. – a movie I still can’t watch without sobbing, because that strange creature’s only desire was to find his place – to go home. To be home. I craved the experience of inhabiting other people’s skin, to understand their hardships, yearnings, and growth, and then put those emotional truths out into the world. I embarked on that path with my ex-husband as co-screenwriters, climbing the Hollywood ladder with some sparks of success, until at 34 years old, it became clear that our marriage was not working, and that I needed to leave. But leaving him, leaving that life, meant abandoning my dreams and my identity as a screenwriter, the person that I had become. To divorce him, was to divorce who I had known myself to be, and cause all the fruits of my hard labor to rot and disintegrate. I said goodbye to my dreams, and started over, from the beginning, on a blank new path with no visible ending in sight.

I wrote a novel, essays, a memoir, this blog, and more recently another novel. I devoured books, my new best friends, and couldn’t watch movies. It hurt too much. Friends at my beloved local cafe who for ten years saw me pounding my keyboard with sparks flying from under my burning fingertips called me “the girl that could,” and the obliterated letters on all of my keyboards are a testament. I persistently cultivated my craft while simultaneously buoying my hopes, as I managed to get literary representation and the acknowledgement that I wasn’t delusional. I had found my calling, and finally, my voice.

And yet every time I was on the cusp of “it” finally happening, where I was about to finally turn that corner – where I could taste my dream’s fruition – an imminent book deal, the publication of something I wrote – it evaporated for various reasons. People urged me, “Don’t give up. Keep going.” And I did. Not because of some trope, or because of a bruised ego, but because I had no say in the matter. I had to, I have to, create. When I’m not, I am lost. And in those moments of frustration and despair where I ignore the desire, when it feels like a curse I struggle to slay, and focus on other things instead, it feels as if I am wearing the wrong shoes. I am uncomfortable, off my stride, and it hurts. And as much as there were many who encouraged me to keep going, there were also those who understandably thought I should give up. Who keeps writing books, stories, for ten years, with zero recognition? Me, I guess. Because the alternative – the decision to no longer write – felt like a denial and betrayal of the self, of my identity and purpose. Sometimes I felt like I was a windup toy that got stuck spinning in the corner, knocking against the wall blindly, hoping to one day break through that wall.

And then, a tiny opening emerged. After my new novel got attention from several literary agents, and I signed with a fantastic one, another setback arose, and I was seriously considering giving up, when a voice in my head, from deep in the history of my subconscious rose up and would not relent. It told me to reach out to someone I needed, who I hadn’t connected with in over ten years, who had been a painful casualty of my divorce – my former film agent.

I never imagined I would speak to her again, or that she would speak to me. That after the toxic aftermath of my “Hollywood exit” where she and many others perceived me negatively, from an industry where I had relegated myself as exiled, that I would be embraced with such compassion, love, and moreover, a fervent belief in my talents as a writer. She is now a manager at a prominent management company, and read and loved my manuscript, offered to shop it and represent it, and then urged me to write a short story based on a random idea I had pitched her, which she thought would make a great movie. I resisted.

The “give up” voice was circling, and I was skeptical. I was also in the midst of a new job which I was excited about and focused on, and my husband and I were beginning another attempt at starting a family. Mustering the energy to write yet another piece of material – about motherhood no less – that would probably not see the light of day seemed futile (cynical me was dominant that month), and in hindsight I began to subconsciously mourn the loss of my birth as a recognized writer and mentally pave the way for a different future – the anticipated birth of a child.

But she was determined. She had faith in me, and in her typical manner, along with the head of production at her management company, ordered me “to get my effin ass in the chair and pump the mother effin story out.”

I couldn’t argue with that, or with her. After all, the little voice that knew I should reach out to her predicted precisely that. And so I obeyed. As seven weeks of fertility treatments had me cranky, sore, and tired, I wrote and rewrote, recognizing the irony and synchronicity that I was researching and writing about the joys and trials of being a mother as I was on the brink of becoming one myself.

But as the saying goes, “Man plans, God laughs.” Not that God was laughing at the crushing news that no, I wasn’t going to be a mother. Not just yet anyway. In hindsight, God was embracing me, asking me to continue to put my faith in him and in myself, at the signs which were blessings disguised as misfortunes, and in the prolonged timeline – to hang on just a little bit longer, because he had a plan in store for me, a new ending I could not predict or envision.

CS Lewis said, “You can’t go back to the beginning, but you can start where you are and change the ending.”

I can’t go back and change the choices I had made since starting over. I don’t want to. It wouldn’t have led me to where I am now: finding and marrying my wonderful husband, my soul mate. My beautiful home. My supportive family and friends. And a new rascal puppy, a Hurricane Maria rescue. And looking back to that bright eyed girl of 21 who knew in her gut that she was destined to create, albeit all the arduous detours – I wouldn’t change that beginning either.

But I did change the ending. My short story got the highest praise, and the sweetest reward. It got optioned and praised by no other than the legendary Steven Spielberg and his studio, Amblin. The creator of my beacon of hope and love, E.T. I have come full circle, with the culmination of eleven years of writing prose intersecting with Hollywood, where I began. I too am finally home.

Listen to that voice. Listen to yourself. Pay attention to who you are. And don’t give up. The happy ending may just be around the (100th) corner.

 

P.S. Turns out, unbeknownst to me, that the mascot at my beloved cafe that I’ve been drawn to for ten years, is none other than E.T.

 

 

 

21 replies
  1. Lynn Hall
    Lynn Hall says:

    Beautiful story, Oritte! True perseverance. I guess sometimes we have to experience a thousand closed doors before the right one opens. Extremely proud of you!!

    Reply
  4. barbara finnerty
    barbara finnerty says:

    So happy for you, Oritte! You’re so inspiring that I may just write the book series that’s been in my head for 20 years after all!

    Reply
  8. Naomi Weiss
    Naomi Weiss says:

    P.S.

    Also wondering about that short story you mentioned and yourt random idea. You might not want to reveal all that but if you do, where can we read that story? Or hear about that idea? Sounds wonderful, a lucky break when least expected.

    Nice work.

    Reply
    • cougel
      cougel says:

      Hi Naomi! Thank you so much for the wishes and for inquiring. The short story has not been published yet, it was submitted directly to film. It’s a thriller/scifi and AI 🙂 Keep up the effort and good luck to you!

      Reply

Leave a Reply

Want to join the discussion?
Feel free to contribute!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *