Gawker, Texas Stranger

I figure if you are or want to be a screenwriter (or any kind of writer, really) you've got to get pretty comfortable with self-gratification. And I don't mean the kind that requires cleaning up afterwards. I mean that the act of writing should, in and of itself, be rewarding to you. Living beyond yourself, creating characters and stories and expressing what excites or scares you, has got to be enough. And sometimes you've got to believe, independently of feedback from others, that what you're writing is worthwhile. Even if it's never filmed or bought or acknowledged by anyone of professional consequence.

That's what I think, anyway.

But that conviction all gets pretty tough after awhile. And that's where screenwriting contests can help. I guess the funny thing about validation is how validating it can be once you get it from someone other than yourself.

Last month I flew out to Austin, Texas for the annual Austin Film Festival. It was my first time in Texas, my first experience at a film festival, my first stab at entering material into a film festival, and my first time spending $1000 on a hotel. That last part still stings a little. But it was all totally worth it. Why?

Because two of my scripts were finalists in the festival this year, meaning that (apart from hotel and airfare) every element of the experience was free and at my fingertips. This included panels in the morning (90-minute sessions on stuff like "How to Get Representation", "How to Write for the Television Comedy", "Where to Raise Money for Production"), film screenings in the early evening, and parties at night. And throughout it all, the opportunity to share concerns and congratulations with some talented and gracious and rejuvenating people, all of whom were surprisingly approachable -- whether they were established industry writers or single moms trying to make ends meet while cobbling their scripts together in their spare time. The unfortunate truth is that you don't usually find that sense of community in L.A.

In fact, I developed more Los Angeles contacts in four days in Austin than I did during my first full year of grad school at UCLA. Go figure. In fairness, though, I'm probably a more outgoing guy than I was back then.

And fortunately, I was out there with a few other UCLAers, including my AFF partner-in-crime, Karl Williams, who picked up three trophies when he had gone to the Austin Film Festival a few years ago and now has a film in production. I felt fortunate Karl was out there with me, occasionally guiding me in maximizing my time, and also cracking me up more than a few times along the way.

I collected a lot of business cards and met a lot of directors, writers, producers, agents, and kind-hearted Texas natives. And amidst the expected conversations about the Writer's Guild strike, why television is better for young writers, how our families and friends don't really understand what we do, and whether grad school is worth it (it has been), I felt reinvigorated about not only my own work, but also about the state of the industry. I mean, if all these cool people are still in it for the love of it, then maybe I'm in the right business.

Ultimately, I didn't win in either of the categories in which I was a finalist. My spec episode of "The Office" was bested by a "Scrubs" and my coming-of-age drama, "Learning to Stand" was trumped by a script about an Iraqi veteran trailed by the Feds. But by that point in my four-day Austin trip, I had become fast friends with a few of the other finalists, and I was surprised to find how little I cared whether I'd won or lost. I know, I know, that's what they all say. But I'm happy to report that, at least in this case, it was true.

Although those trophies looked pretty damn cool.