In Matt Bird’s book, The Secrets of Story: Innovative Tools for Perfecting Your Fiction and Captivating Readers, there is a part called “The Poisonous Cindarella Story.”* It’s sad, pathetic and illuminating.
Up until that week, I was still clinging to my personal version of the Cinderella story: I was convinced I could go to a top MFA program, impress my professors, get whisked into a job in the industry, start at the top by selling a show to HBO, and begin a life of fame, fortune, and acclaim. So far, everything had seemed to work out (CAA liked the new intros, after all), but I began to feel a sense of dread: This was all an illusion. I didn’t really “have it” yet.
Looking back, this was the time I began to see that Columbia had been run like a fantasy camp. We were encouraged to dabble in everything and specialize in nothing, to follow our muse wherever it led us, content in the knowledge that we were in a “safe space.” We got tons of praise and very little criticism. Continue reading
