First Day of School
While it was (and is) still far from normal, the lifting of lockdown restrictions this summer finally allowed the opportunity to meet again with family and old friends. I even got a chance to meet with a few new faces too.
Inevitably then, the question comes up. “So what do you do?”
As an editor - and probably anyone who works in a creative field - when you answer, you are initially met with a warm, if not surprised reaction.
“Oh, thats pretty neat!”
When you first started on your career path, this momentary lift in the conversation would fill you with such pride; you had an unexpected answer. You have a cool job! Because you are special.
But very quickly, you’ll learn that your newly impressed date/friend/visiting relative will always follow up with the obvious and ego-deflating question:
“Have you worked on anything I’ve seen?”
Yeah! Well…maybe? Actually, probably not. No.
…And you’re a zero again.
WIthout sounding bitter, you try to give context to where you are in your career trajectory, or just how difficult it is to rise up to the fenced off A-list tier of content. You grasp at whatever tangential clout the project has. “Well this producer is a pretty big deal in this space, and their sister-in-law is actually an accountant for the Property Brothers, so they may look at it too”
But its - frustratingly - a lost cause. You just look like someone who hasn’t made it, and probably never will. That’s how art for sale works; no one meeting a teacher will ask if they’ve ever taught anyone famous.
Strangely though, I am warming up to these conversations. I find them wonderfully shitty and therefore humbling. Whatever mountain peak you reached last week when the network sent back glowing (re: minimal) notes….it doesn’t matter at all, because while at a BBQ, your partner’s cousin has no freaking clue that the show you just mentioned you worked on existed. Let alone that its on season 3.
———
As the projects I worked on got larger or more expensive, and my roles on them took on greater creative responsibility, I would feel, of course, a sense of pride in my accomplishments (a healthy reaction!)
Even so, I’d be tethered by those grounding-conversations (also healthy!).
A few years after university, it began dawning on me that this was going to be a long slog before (and if) any external creative recognition were to happen. I wondered at what point would my answer to ‘what show have you worked on?’ be good enough. And once I’d somehow found myself on a popular enough show, what would the response be besides another “that’s cool!” anyway?
Sure, a really great project - to both audiences and critics -will likely mean you won’t be looking for work, could be picky with your projects, and demand a higher rate. Those are all important things, and what I want to. But a show is just a show.
I don’t think I’ll be any happier.
This is all a long winded way of arriving at the cliche…the journey is more important than whatever that destination is.
I have to ackowledge that where I am right now is what I was hoping for as an undergrad. Actually, as recently as a dozen months ago , I wasn’t sure if I could make the jumps I’ve now made. That’s huge.
———
Ambition is healthy. But so is a little perspective. That’s what made me decide document the process a little more; I realized I was so quickly looking at whatever the next rung of the ladder was, that I was forgetting how long I was in pursuit of the one I had just reached. Basically, life-goals inflation.
I’m not far in my career by any stretch. After being an assistant editor for 7 years, and then another 3 years of an on-again-off-again dance between the two roles, I’ve only just got my footing as an editor.
That’s a tricky thing to pull off. This won’t be news to anyone inside the film/tv world, but unlike a lot of professions, there’s no certification process here; you don’t aim for 3000 hours as an assistant editor so that you can then qualify to take an Editor’s exam.
No one can tell you exactly how to make that jump, because no one is coming at it from the exact same angle as you. At some point you get lucky and someone takes a chance on you. (And then you’re stuck feeling like an imposter).
My next gig is my first show in the union (The DGC here in Canada). It starts right as summer is coming to an end and I’ve gotten my usual case of the butterflies, as I do everytime I start work on a new show. It feels remarkably like I’m counting down to the first day of school again.
I hated that feeling as a kid. It meant the end (of summer).
Now I like it, because it means there’s a ‘next’ chapter, scary as it may sometimes seem. I know there’s so much I will be learning.
———
But first, here’s to a little gratitude for the steps I’ve taken.. The jumps I’ve made. To remembering that my last achieved goal is the same one someone (probably more talented) is chasing now. To helping them see one example of a possile path.
And….here’s to having your ego completely squashed at the next family gathering.