Most Of Your Progress Is Invisible... Until It's Not
It was a big week.
The producer Tara and I partnered with sent out our movie script to some of the biggest comedy directors you can think of. By any measure, getting eyes on our writing at this level is a win. And it got me thinking about how we got here.
The most obvious observation I have looking back is how much all the progress we’ve made over the last three years was invisible.
Not only was it invisible, but much of the time it actually felt like failing.
And I think the invisible progress (along with the feeling that you’re making no progress at all) is a product of the domain we’re operating in.
In some domains, compounding is obvious.
In others, it’s invisible. The gains are so small you can’t see them until you meet some critical threshold (like Tara and I did this week) where the progress pokes its head out and becomes obvious.
For example, each time Tara and I release a sketch video, the progress is obvious.
You can SEE the views, the comments, the likes, and the followers. The numbers are right in front of you getting bigger. And that releases that sweet, sweet rush of dopamine.
But in the domain of screenwriting, compounding is totally invisible.
Once you send out a screenplay, you don’t get to see who reads it, reacts to it, or shares it with someone else. There’s no public “views” or “likes” or “comments” you can track.
In fact, I know there are many people out there who have read our scripts and liked, but we’ve never heard from them directly.
And if we do get feedback, it comes back through a filter. It’s not the raw reaction that reaches you, but usually a distorted version meant to help the person at the other end get what they want.
This kind of progress is invisible... UNTIL IT ISN’T. Suddenly, there’s a big leap of progress that’s impossible to interpret as anything else.
But between those leaps, much of the feedback you get feels like failing.
Invisible compounding often feels like failing.
I’ve written before that the singular goal of writing a screenplay is to get it made into a movie. Anything less than that feels like failure, even though it’s not.
Here’s the road that got Tara and I to where we are…
3 years ago: started Screenplay 1 in partnership with a well-know producer and rewrote for two years. “Name” talent ultimately passed. Project is currently with another producer and we are waiting to hear next steps.
2.5 years ago: wrote our first TV pilot and pitched it around town. Attached well-known producer who took it to buyers who ultimately passed. Sent it out as a writing sample to managers, none of which wanted to rep us.
2 years ago: A producer from a very reputable management company reached out to us, saying the head of the company read and liked our TV pilot (mentioned above), and wants to develop a movie with us. Tara and I pitched a concept and started writing Screenplay 2.
This week: Our producer (from above) sent out Screenplay 2 to big-name comedy directors, giving us more exposure than we’ve ever had.
Even with leaps of progress along the way, the dominant feeling of the last three years has been that of “nothing’s happening.”
And yet look how far we’ve come! In just three years, Tara and I went from never having written any fiction in our lives to serious consideration from the biggest names in Hollywood.
And yet in between, much of the time it felt like failure. Simply because we couldn’t see the compounding happening along the way.
So, where is the invisible compounding happening in your work? Have you been treating it like “failure” like I have? Or are you wise enough to trust the process and understand that at some point, that giant leap of progress will show itself?
I hope it’s the latter. Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not happening.
Thanks for reading.