What are you waiting for?

For the longest time I was held back from making films because I believed I didn’t have the “right camera” or the “proper equipment.” Well, I now refuse to be stuck in that limited mindset. I think this is the secret to becoming a good filmmaker: 1) make as many awful movies as you can and 2) learn from them. If you want to be a screenwriter, 1) write as many awful screenplays as you can and 2) learn from them. If you wait for the “perfect script” or until the “right time,” you’ll end up with nothing but regrets.

Mistakes and setbacks are inevitable. It’s a struggle, no doubt about it. But that is how we get better at what we do, and that is how the story goes: we struggle, we work hard, we succeed. Take the “work hard” part out and you get nothing but struggle.

If you’re passionate about making movies — and I mean really in love with the art, the craft, the utter torture it inflicts on your creative soul — get out there and shoot something. It doesn’t matter if it’s on the lowest grade DV camera, or an old crappy 2001 Sony 3CCD camera like mine. Steven Spielberg never would have become the man he is today if he had said, “I don’t have the right camera. Well, I guess I have to wait until I get one.”

Stanley Kubrick was on to something when he said that young filmmakers should grab a camera and just “make a movie of any kind at all.” I’m certain that’s precisely how he became one of the most celebrated filmmakers in the world.

The possibilities are within us, not somewhere out there in some intangible form. I know there are others out there like myself who need a little push sometimes. So here’s your push. I’m looking forward to seeing your name up on the screen.

The Art of Deliberate Practice

About three decades ago, at Carnegie Mellon University in Pittsburgh, Professor William Chase and a postdoctoral fellow named Anders Ericsson posited an interesting theory. They argued that our innate talents — whether it’s playing the violin, winning at chess, or running a Fortune 500 company — aren’t really innate at all. After many years of research and conducting dozens of experiments, they concluded that the individuals we perceive as “geniuses” — Mozart, Tiger Woods, Itzhak Perlman, to name a few — become who they are through “deliberate practice,” not thanks to some miraculous higher power.

That means thousands and thousands of hours of hard work. Tiger Woods wasn’t born a gifted golf champion. His father, a pro golfer himself, started training him at age three. Mozart’s music wasn’t merely handed down to him by God; the composer rewrote his music numerous times, trying to perfect it as he went along. Violinists like Itzhak Perlman accumulated at least 10,000 hours of practice in 10 years before he finally mastered his art. In one study, Chase and Ericsson proved that great memory can be cultivated — anyone, at any level, can improve their memory skills, not just math wizards and chess players.

It doesn’t take a genius to understand that no one succeeds unless they work hard. But what separates the “ordinary” people from so-called “gifted” people, Chase and Ericsson suggest, isn’t some magical inborn quality; it’s deliberate practice. According to Geoff Colvin, author of the book Talent is Overrated:

Deliberate practice “is designed specifically to improve performance, often with a teacher’s help; it can be repeated a lot; feedback on results is continuously possible; it’s highly demanding mentally, whether the activity is purely intellectual, such as chess or business-related activities, or heavily physical, such as sports; and it isn’t much fun.”

Deliberate practice equals high performance. I understand now why many of my teachers believed I was a “gifted” writer and artist. But my talents weren’t gifts bestowed upon me at birth. I was a good writer because I wrote every single day — journals, essays, school newspaper articles, letters — I even created newsletters that I sent to one of my cousins regularly. I started my first collection of short stories in second grade. And I excelled at art because, at 6, I began drawing pictures on a regular basis. I was practicing deliberately without realizing it.

In retrospect, it makes sense why, in film school, my editing and shooting assignments often stood out (one of my professors once told me he had no doubt that I would one day “make it”). Prior to film school, as a teenager, I shot and edited numerous silly little short films; I volunteered at a local broadcasting station and taught myself video production; during my spare time I wrote dozens of awful screenplays. I didn’t wait until film school to learn the craft of filmmaking.  

My point here isn’t to boost my own ego. Far from it. For the last few years I’ve been racked with self-doubt and uncertainty about my future. I’ve never had any doubts about my own talent, but here’s what I’ve realized: I haven’t been working hard enough. And you out there, whoever is reading this: keep working your ass off. Double the amount of time you spend on pursuing your dreams. Stop wallowing in fear and laziness. Surgeons don’t become surgeons after a year of med school; it takes up to 10 years. It’s a mistake to believe we can achieve overnight success simply by wanting it. You’ve gotta get out there on the field and train like crazy. We may never truly know where talent comes from, but what we know for sure is this: deliberate practice pays off.

Boredom kills

Boredom can kill, and Scott H Young knows a thing or two about it:

If you measured your life, not by achievements, but by how much boredom you could avoid, would you live life differently? Would you accomplish less? Or, by eliminating the things that dull you, would you end up completing more interesting things?

Life is too short to waste on uninteresting pursuits. Too many people have the false idea that success requires putting up with years of boredom to get what you want. I’d argue the opposite: the more boredom you tolerate in your life, the fewer meaningful things you are accomplishing.

Biting Reality

In quarterlife, the uncannily perceptive twentysomething Web series on MySpaceTV (soon to debut on NBC), Dylan Krieger (played by the winsome Bitsie Tulloch) is a 25-year-old writer who’s so lost in the bitter ironies of life that she’s unable to see that the one thing that’s holding her back is herself. And that’s pretty much the story of her friends’ lives as well; living a frustrating reality so different from the life they desire that they can do nothing but surrender to it. The creators of the show, Edward Zwick and Marshall Herskovitiz, who, over a decade ago gave us the cult teen-angst drama My So-Called Life, as well as sweeping epic films such as Glory and Legends of the Fall, present to us a world in which all of our fears, hopes and dreams are reflected right back at us. This isn’t One Tree Hill or Gossip Girl. Zwick and Herskovitz take a tired TV genre and inject it with heartfelt realism and startling humanity.

Five films that inspire me

1. American Beauty Alan Ball’s screenplay is more than just another dark suburban satire; it’s a penetrating look at who we are as human beings. Ball and director Sam Mendes present to us a mirror of our own fallacies and desires, while reminding us that there is much more than what we see on the surface. “Look closer” is the film’s tag line, and it sums it up perfectly.

2. Rudy It makes me cry almost every time. Rudy (Sean Astin), the short, underdog football player who was told by almost everyone he knew that he would never succeed, represents the dreamer in all of us. But most importantly, he’s also the doer, and watching Rudy overcome almost every obstacle he faces, I always feel as though I, too, can accomplish anything.

3. Jerry Maguire Cameron Crowe’s multi-layered movie is almost as complex, joyous and beautiful as life itself. It’s also incredibly funny. Jerry Maguire faces failure, heartache and adversity, but the one thing that keeps him from becoming who he wants to be is himself. “Good at friendship, bad at intimacy, ” one of his ex-girlfriends quip. But in truth Maguire was never really “bad” at intimacy. He never had the chance to experience it. Crowe shows us the good things that can happen when we think with our hearts rather than our brain.

4. Before Sunrise Sometimes when I feel lonely or depressed, this film cheers me up. Read my previous post about this film and its sequel.

5. Waking Life It’s like sitting down with one of your intellectual, philosopher friends and soaking up everything he or she has to say about life. Richard Linklater, the director, enlightens us and makes us think. When I first watched the film several years ago in San Francisco, I left the theater feeling like my life had just changed. It was an experience I still can’t quite articulate. Maybe the title says it all.

What is success?

What is success?

Ralph Fiennes says it’s all about showing love, word by word, gesture by gesture. I agree with him, but I don’t think I’ve practiced that very much. Seems like these days I’m more concerned about when I’m going to “make it” in this business.

But that leads to the question, what does it really mean to “make it”? Again, does it go back to love? I don’t know the answer to that, but I can say from experience that it feels good to do something, well, good.

I imagine that when I become a famous filmmaker I’ll be doing a lot for the young ones who are struggling like I am right now. This may sound like a paradox — L.A., after all, isn’t known as the City of Altruism — but I want to succeed in this business so that I can give. Whether it’s through a film that inspires an audience or helping an aspiring screenwriter find his or her voice, I guess that’s love, isn’t it?

“It’s not who you are underneath, it’s what you do that defines you.”

- Rachel Dawes

Meeting Ang Lee

Ang Lee is a quiet, self-effacing man whose intelligence can be discerned through his wise, gentle eyes. In the summer of 2003, I met the enormously gifted director of Brokeback Mountain and Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, when I was a production assistant on the set of Hulk, Ang’s risky foray into the comic book film genre. This is a man who is able to control his set with few words (it was the A.D. who did most of the screaming), and was clearly respected by everyone on the production.

The first time I spoke with him was right after a day’s shoot had been completed. I approached him, my heart pounding with nervousness, my mind filled with incoherent thoughts, and I’m not sure exactly what I said to him first, but I remember asking for his advice on how to break into the film business.

“Write a good script,” he said. “That’s the best way. Keep writing.”

I nodded, shook his hand, and thanked him.

I’m sure we exchanged more words than that, but that’s what I remember most. I was overjoyed, a giddy schoolboy who had just met one of his heroes. I have a black and white photo of him with the director of photography, Fred Elmes, that I took, sitting on my desk. The second time I approached Ang I asked him if I could take a picture with him, which of course he said yes.

It was surreal, being in the same space with one of the most talented film directors in Hollywood — and, like me, he’s Asian American. Meeting Ang Lee was a reminder that we all have the capacity to fulfill our dreams and live the life we desire.

Life in comedy

What I loved about doing improv comedy — besides being onstage and the center of attention — was that it forced me to let go of my inhibitions and allow spontaneity to take over. Of course, the funny thing is, what appeared to be spontaneous on stage was, in reality, not so spontaneous at all. It was the result of learning the art and craft of improv. It was about being in the moment, taking what you’ve learned, and making something out of it. You are the writer, actor, and editor all at the same time.

I especially loved the thrill of making the audience laugh. The best moments happen organically. The worst is when you feel yourself forcing the jokes, because improv comedy, ironically, is not about “making” jokes. It’s about telling the truth; be truthful and don’t worry about “being funny” when you’re onstage. Magic occurs when being funny is the least of your concerns.

The same thing can be applied to life. When you aren’t focused on your self all the time, the world — the stage — is a better place. Lighter, happier, funnier. Allowing your mind to become entangled in drama worsens your performance. You stumble, lose focus, and everything starts to go downhill. But when you listen and stay in the moment, just like actors must do onstage, something special and wonderfully mysterious happens. You don’t even have to do any work. You’re just there, taking it in, living and breathing it.

Perfect ‘Sunset’

Before Sunset, Richard Linklater’s sequel to his irresistably loquacious 1995 indie film, Before Sunrise, is filled with thoughtful melancholy and an enthralling romantic spirit. Both films are two of my favorites of all time.

In Before Sunset, it has been nine years since Celine (Julie Delpy) and Jesse (Ethan Hawke) first met aboard a train in Europe, and gradually we discover that their lives have taken the path of disappointment and regret. They catch up, learn new things about each other, and gaze at each other with painful, clandestine longing. These two were meant for each other — you can feel their otherworldly connection, their intellectual and emotional spirits interlocking.

I love the films for their pure honesty and endless conversational rhapsody. Each viewing seems to offer a new spiritual revelation; Linklater is a director whose films are about the pleasures and heartaches of self-discovery, and Before Sunset is a journey I’m willing to embark on again and again.

“If there’s any kind of magic in this world it must be in the attempt of understanding someone, sharing something. I know, it’s almost impossible to succeed, but who cares really? The answer must be in the attempt.”

- Celine (from “Before Sunrise”)

Welcome to L.A.

Long before I moved to Los Angeles, while I was a film student in San Francisco, I was told that the city was a breeding ground for superficiality. People in L.A., they said, were shallow creatures concerned about nothing except for breaking into showbusiness. How ironic, I thought, that the City of Angels was filled with self-absorbed demons. Still, after graduating from the Academy of Art College, I packed up all my stuff and moved to the alleged hellhole.

They couldn’t have been more wrong … and right. L.A. is far from the heartless town people say it is. I’ve met some of my best friends here. Yet there’s an underlying sense of selfishness that I haven’t felt anywhere else (well, besides film school). It’s only natural, of course. This is, after all, a city populated by many wanna-be actors, aspiring screenwriters, and struggling film directors. No one moves to L.A. to be a philanthropist.

I came out here to pursue a career in — yes, showbusiness. I’m a screenwriter. Although I’m not sure if pursue is the right term. The word makes me think of a man or woman chasing after something. But how does one chase after a career? Really, you can only work at accomplishing what you want. You go to a job interview to get a job, but you don’t chase it around like a dog.

Maybe that’s why there’s so much tension in this city. Everyone seems to believe they’re in some sort of competition. The competitive nature of this business is normal, but there’s no guarantee that any of us will reach the finish line — or if the finish line even exists. My theory? It’s all in our head. There’s no race. The best we can do is work on our daily accomplishments and not worry about winning. Because, really, we succeed everyday by showing up and doing the work.

L.A. is a great place to be creative. It’d be a shame to be consumed by the vices of the weak and selfish, when there are far more important things to do in life.

Subscribing to success

I recently subscribed to two magazines, Fast Company and Fortune, even though both are available for free online. There’s something different about holding the pages in your hand, as if somehow you can channel the wisdom and knowledge through your fingertips. Your own potential for success immediately seems more tangible, more possible, when you flip through the magazines and read those articles about the twenty-something entrepreneurs who carved a life out of practically nothing, or the start-up company that survived a succession of embarrassing mistakes. Fast Company’s May cover story about Facebook’s Mark Zuckerberg was more than inspiring; it reaffirmed my belief that anyone who is talented and works hard will succeed, undoubtedly and inevitably. These are subscriptions not only to two worthwhile magazines, but to a powerful mindset.

Zen and productivity

I highly recommend reading zen habits‘ article on how to optimize productivity. The author offers tips that, on the surface, may seem easy and obvious, but following them will most likely increase your productivity in ways you couldn’t imagine.

“Without a routine, we have no good way of saying ‘no’ to requests as they come in, and we are at the beck and call of every person who wants our time and every website that wants our attention.”

- zen habits

1001 days to combat procrastination

My friend Scott Trimble has created a list of 101 things he’d like to accomplish in 1001 days. He’s already checked off 13 items. Apparently, as Scott mentions, this anti-procrastination idea has become something of a phenomenon. Imagine how the world could change if millions of people got off their butts and did something about the things they’ve always wanted to do. We’d probably meet a lot less unhappy people at work and on the streets.

Friday clickables

• A new book called The Six Sigma Leader by Peter Pande suggests how a company might make change a “core competency.” A Forbes.com article takes a look at the author’s approach. Change, Pande says, “is the essence of leadership.” The ideas in his book seem to support my own thoughts on the subject.

• Scott H. Young gives us some useful ideas on how we might be able to incorporate the 80/20 rule in our daily lives.

• Are Gen-Y workers spoiled? TIME.com’s Lisa Takeuchi Cullen talks about an interesting report. I think any company that wants to make progress should listen up.

The secret? Good entrepreneurial thinking

Why did Americans need a book called “The Secret” to explain to them the power of thought? And why is it called a secret?

I’ve watched the DVD and read the book by Rhonda Byrne. It’s inspiring, yes. I would recommend it, without hesitation, to anyone who needs a little guidance. But the notion that we can change our lives through positive thinking isn’t a secret — it’s common sense.

Byrne, practically overnight, became the nation’s self-help deity. But what she is, more than anything else, is a brilliant entrepreneur.

This woman gathered philosophers, motivational speakers, and quantum physicists, assembled a team of filmmakers to interview them and produce a DVD, developed an amazing marketing plan to sell it, sold millions of copies, got Oprah’s attention, and now, well, we can safely assume that everyone in the world knows what “The Secret” is.

Byrne must have had one hell of a vision board.