This chapter begins with the stark realization that I really didn’t appreciate the privileges that came with success. Getting this project off the ground was harder than I ever anticipated. I didn’t allow myself to use any advertising funds I had under my real name. I could only use funds I gathered through this name. I was only able to spend a few $20 bills here and there at first, which obviously wasn’t getting me anywhere too fast. To top things off, the screenwriter that was supposed to review this project simply “didn’t have time” after 3 months of waiting on him to check it out. If he knew who I was or where this was going, I know he would have made time. But here’s the thing about people – if they want to… they will. If I attached my real name, I know this person would have carved out time for my project because he would assume it would benefit him. Too many people anymore are only seeking opportunities that are easily identifiable as advantageous to their career or well-being. I felt a bit defeated, but I knew this was all part of the plan. I even went out on a limb and got a message through to one of my favorite screenwriters and producers. However, that also produced nothing but crickets. Again, had he known my name it might have been different. On my level as an unknown, no one would hear me out. Part of me wanted to just give up, tell someone who I was, and get this show on the road… but to do so would be abandoning 15 years of a project that meant the world to me. I had to do this, and I couldn’t give up. I knew there would be people out there who just needed a little inspiration in life to tackle their dreams. If I gave up this easily, how could I expect anyone else to keep pushing forward? Nonetheless, the mental pep talk I had given myself seemed like a pathetic attempt to relight a wet match. I wasn’t a bit defeated… I was utterly fed up and over it. I closed the lid on the laptop and wondered what I’d even write about next. I needed another attitude adjustment, but it would have to wait. I wasn’t in the mood to tackle anything and began to ponder what breed of crazy I really was.
Fast forward a week. As a busy week was dying down, a huge storm began to rage across my town. It was the perfect chaos I had wanted. I fully intended to do some work, but every violent flash of lightning permeated my mind (or maybe even my soul) and begged for attention. I could no longer burden myself with anything logical anymore, and I suddenly wanted to watch the Hunter S. Thompson documentary, “Gonzo”. I had never seen it, and I needed to sprinkle my existence with someone else who was unabridged, didn’t conform to society’s expectations, and lived life outside of the edges. I could think of no one more fitting than Hunter. Just as I hoped, his incongruous lifestyle was the defibrillator I direly needed. As I watched in complete perplexity at how this man functioned so seemingly normally while also wildly off the charts, I started to think that maybe an answer I had been needing was much less complex than I originally planned. I needed a journalist or PR person hungry for a good story. Someone that wanted to follow along. In turn, I could reward this person with first interview rights when my real persona was unveiled. I needed someone that needed their big break as much as my alias needed her big break. I tend to consider myself more of an innovator, but this time I thought the answer might be hiding in the more traditional approach. I put out a few feelers and then came back to this document to decide where the story might go next.
Let’s take it back to music. Another opportunity was brewing. Could it somehow intertwine with this project? I had a meeting with a tour manager – a pretty famous one at that. I had met this person before, but only briefly. Things in my personal life had felt like that spinning saucer ride at Disney. My other half needed me to push him forward… even though he didn’t realize it yet. I’m a fixer, and I noticed he was falling apart a little more every day. His world had been mangled by a close relative that needed him more than ever. A newly diagnosed medical issue threw his entire career into a disheveled uncertainty, and he was at the bottom of that hill I knew so very well. I watched as those rolling rocks I had grown accustomed to catching were now falling onto him. Rather than address these issues, I simply started working on any possible opportunities that might provide a new way “in” rather than “out”. I’m a person that not only loves walking through opportunity doors… I seek them constantly. I realize that not everyone enjoys this process and he’s undoubtedly one of them. So, I sagaciously scanned every piece of my neurodivergent brain until I found anything remotely resembling a door. I asked him to work on his guitar album again. I started watching concert videos on YouTube of this band that employed the tour manager I had encountered. I started bridging connections and thought that just maybe this could be a door for him. I wasn’t sure what was on the other side, but I knew I had a divinely deep-seated trust for this tour manager as a human being (very rare for me), and I knew their personalities would vibe. Something told me doors would open if they could just meet in person. After almost two decades of knowing my strange premonitions, my other half decided to just follow along – probably just to appease me more than anything. I realized the tour manager had a date coming up soon about 90 minutes away from me. I threw him a message and asked if he’d meet with me. He responded that he’d be happy to do so. One door unlocked – potential unknown as of now.
Unbeknownst to me, God (or the universe or whatever you believe in), seems to enjoy rewarding a fixer with sporadic open doors, too. A business colleague asked me if I’d consider teaching some marketing courses at the university where she was teaching. The campus was growing at a crazy rate, and they were desperate for professors in my field. Within 3 days, I somehow ended up making connections with the academic director, securing a position as an adjunct marketing professor online, and falling into a forward-thinking global institution that was interested in having me join their team for more than just teaching. The man spewed possibilities over the Zoom call like he had lost control of his tongue. I left the conversation enlightened, bumfuzzled, deeply curious, and excited. Did I really want to be a professor? Honestly, I wasn’t sure – but this university wasn’t your typical school. This place was just unorthodox enough that I didn’t even hesitate. I had to know what they were doing here. They were quietly changing the entire educational process globally for those that wanted something more than just instruction and learning. They were challenging brilliantly inquisitive minds into going beyond education and digging deep into their psyche. I sat back and wondered how I would make time for this, while also contemplating if this would at some point become even more engaging and satisfying than being an author. Was this another side gig, or was God completely uprooting and replanting me? I had no idea, but none of that mattered. It was just another one of life’s little gifts that had been tossed at me with a card that read, “You’re welcome”. I pulled the celebratory confetti string in my head and took about 24 hours to enjoy this new pivotal moment. I had about 2 months before my new position would start, so I hopped back over the threshold to the here and now once again.
Though I don’t consider ADHD a disability for myself at all… it can often be incredibly frustrating. Sometimes, the number of things I want to do in life is just too overwhelming and I can’t move at all. It’s almost an anxiety or fear that life is assuredly too brief and can never offer enough space to conquer all the things I know I can do. My brain was spinning, and my body was exhausted from all the mental meetings, deadlines, ideas, propositions, and planning for the multiple projects continuously taking flight. I was beginning to feel like I was a private airport with 20 commercial airlines all using my facilities every day. I was disoriented and just “off”. Nothing was wrong… but nothing was really right either. I felt like I needed downtime, but downtime also felt like wasted time. I opened and closed my laptop multiple times on this very paragraph because it just felt pointless. Here I was, over 20,000 words into a project that no one was reading yet. I had to stop and remind myself that this really was going to serve a purpose… and the struggle was all part of the plot. I no longer felt that words were enough. I started deliberating over them because they all felt too common. I needed words I hadn’t used – maybe ever. How would the reader react, though, if my writing felt like a vocabulary quiz? Again, I felt myself in a game of chess over the right balance of captivation without being verbose.
Often, I find myself writing and wondering if I have a point… but I’m told that readers have found their own answers in the midst of my mental warfare. This was one of those times. I needed to write, but just wasn’t sure what the point. I was at a crossroads. I couldn’t let this project fail due to a lack of allowable funds. If I pulled funds from my regular accounts, that defeated the purpose. The project had to fund itself, or I had to create extra funds that weren’t current sources of income. The concept brought me back to 20 years ago when I knew what I wanted but couldn’t make it happen. What did I do then? I pushed through it and never accepted no for an answer. It’s easy to get acclimated to a comfortable bank account and forget the drive that got you there. I needed to rediscover my “why” and move forward even though it seemed impossible.