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  • Writer's pictureNiranjana

Bring down the Noise

Today was one of those days I felt like I was waking up on Christmas morning, running into the living room and getting kicked in the guts by Santa Claus.

I knew since forever that I want(ed) to be a screen- writer. It's the only thing I've ever wanted. Today it stands crushed and I'm writing this to capture this feeling of being punched in the guts- for posterity.

Ever wanted something so badly that your guts clenched up at the thought and you felt the blood rush to your head? That was what written word did to me. I wanted to write- tell my story to the world. The same dream shared by many others in the world as I now naively realize. I knew it was a cliched dream but I was willing to take the chance at my shot

There was a very dear idea that had been stewing in my mind for 3 odd years which finally found a platform- a reason to voice.

Earlier this year I'd signed up for a screenwriting competition. it was a national level contest and I'd had to jump over multiple levels of bureaucracy, impatient re--writes and editing before hitting submit.The adrenaline I felt at someone finally reading my story and the rush of validation felt like the biggest kick ever. I'd given it my best and waited. that said, it had taken me 5 months of nail biting wait, to get here.

it was a free foot in door to the world of cinema- get my movie funded, write my screenplay, be heard, seen, understood. - it was better than Candyland and Hogwarts come true.

I woke up early this morning. checked my email. nothing yet. I opened my draft I'd entered. re-read it, and then again. it felt good. I felt good.

to 5 hours of checking and fervent praying later

Only to find my title missing in the shortlist. I waited, I'd had a dream last night where I initially didn't make it only to find that they'd forgotten my name, later. maybe the dream was true? serendipity?

3 hours later the butterflies are replaced by bricks in my stomach. The sense of loss of direction is apparent and disappointment and disbelief are washing over me in waves.

Was I that overconfident that I'd 'make it' that I took the rest for granted?

5 months wasted away waiting for the right opportunity to 'begin', when I could've been on my way finishing my half attacked novel. 5 months of refreshing the website for good news, and running through my timeline of the year- taking a 30 day retreat away from the city to finish my script, thank goodness I hadn't booked my tickets already .

The dates were planned since long, the ideas brimming, my biggest ask of the year nearly taking shape but BAM! On 15th of May 2019, I didn't make the list, and my world is crashing down on me as I write this.

I no longer feel the rush between my fingers as the words flow- I'm clearly not good enough. Rejection is a fickle friend, it sucks you into a murky hole and whispers well meaning notes of discouragement, " give it up, you knew it wasn't good enough. you don't appeal to the masses, you knew it was too deep to make any sense".

Friends and family did their best - you gotta face disappointment to taste success, the usual well meaning words from the wise - people who's dreams haven't been within reach but wrenched away. I don't have a plan B for this year and it scares me.

I wish I'd finished my novel. instead I downloaded Celtix to write my script in their format. I'd created a 2020 timeline that hangs on my wall, something I woke up to this morning and promised to fill up, once my results were out. I have re-read my rejection email 72 times, to be precise before calling the restaurant and canceling the booking where Vikram and I were going to celebrate. So much self confidence, hitting a stone wall. a feeling of being imprisoned in my dark thoughts.

Maybe it's time to reset and repeat. Am I not good enough, or is it my pride that's hurt? How do you fall and start over again so late in the day? I wish they'd told me why they rejected me, was I plain boring or speaking a different language. So many questions, probably never unresolved. There are noises in my head, that's drowning everything out.

Tonight I'll sleep this off, tear up the script, open some wine and binge over the mindless on Netflix. Hopefully tomorrow brings me a plan B.

For now, I'm happy if someone can simply bring down the noise.

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