Somewhere around this time, I mark another year “working” for myself. 2020 is Year 4. I always thought I needed the security of a big studio to take care of me and make sure I could provide for my family.
Turns out, the only one who could ensure that is me.
I’m so glad that Dreamworks dumped me in 2013. That Disney did the same in 2014. And that Dreamworks TV sealed the triumvirate in 2015. Without them (and the strong encouragement of the love of my life), I would be scrimping for freelance boarding jobs during all this madness.
Today, I don’t define success the way that I did when I was younger. I don’t measure it in copies sold or dollars earned. I measure it in what my days look like and the quality of my creative expression: Do I have time to write? Can I say what I think? Do I direct my schedule or does my schedule direct me? Is my life enjoyable or is it a chore?
The only regret I face now is how quickly the day goes by.
In a word: autonomy. Do I have autonomy over what I do and think? Am I free?
Yes, I am.
