SELF EXAM

Fight the Power

But embrace your own

Note: I began this piece a while ago, when I was feeling like a big drip. I decided to revisit it, in the hope my words might inspire someone who feels as if they’re floundering and that the buttholes are winning, as I often do. Because, that’s when we must put up our dukes, and kick some ass.

Lately, as I reflect upon how short and precious our time is in this mortal coil, I can’t help but wonder if, through the years, I allowed outside influences to set me down paths that otherwise, I would have avoided like a flatulent shopper in the frozen foods aisle.

In a society where people have seemingly lost the ability to think for themselves, and “influencers” are everywhere, commandeering social media like queen bees in a hive, where do they end and we come in?

The notion of “happiness” is elusive for so many. Possibly because we either don’t know because thus far, our experience has been otherwise, or have forgotten what it is that makes us happy. And who. So we allow others, whether virtual strangers or family members or coworkers, to beat the stuffing out of us. To say to us: “You can’t.”

After downing a glass of wine, I was dancing alone in my kitchen to Public Enemy’s iconic anthem when the idea for this story came to me because never, at any other time in my life, have I felt so adrift, yet strangely, so driven to find myself. To “fight the power” and achieve my goals, not merely as a writer, but also, as a human being.

But, and this is a big one, I’m at the tail end of my sixties and still don’t know who the hell I am or what I should be doing with the rest of my life. I used to know, but now I’m wondering if I’ve wasted years trundling down the wrong path.

I do know that age discrimination is a thing. One that’s held me back and kept me from so much of what I’m capable of. Yes, I’m pissed off and sick to death of being discounted in both the corporate arena and the entertainment industry due to the year I was born. Why do the people at the top have such power over us? Is it because we allow them to?

We talk about “hindsight.” If only we knew, as our younger selves, what we know now, would we do things differently? Tell me, would you? Would you fight for what you want any harder?

I reflect back on all my fuckups and the triumphs in between. Those golden moments when I believed I could achieve anything. Be anything.

Standing on a stage at the Los Angeles Film School in front of an audience that had just previewed my short film, “John Delaney Died Last Night” was just such a moment. As surreal as it was, as I participated in the Q&A with the filmmakers and cast, I’d never felt more alive. And more confident in my ability to tell stories that resonate with other people.

Attending the Nashville Film Festival where that same short film was screened, was also a rush to the senses that I’ll never forget. As when my film, The Birthday Party was awarded “Best Short” at the Pan African Film Festival in Cannes.

Like sound bytes of validation, these moments galvanized me to do and achieve more. But, here I am. Floundering. But I want to, have to, regain my footing.

Although I’ve tried to give adequate attention to my screenwriting, it’s become harder than ever to get read for reasons I can’t put my finger on. We can no longer blame the pandemic for this as filmmakers are back on set and productions are in play.

Yet, “emerging” writers like myself are still trying to get past the first rung of that wobbly ladder. And here, again, I can only believe that my age is holding me back.

That said, I allow this way of thinking to hobble me. “Well, if no one’s going to read me, why the fuck should I write anything? Why bother?”

That’s giving up right there.

Yet oddly, the last vestiges of “drive” still lurk within me. I have to wonder, to what end? What is it that I actually want and is it worth it?

Are you at such a crossroads? Stagnating because you can’t seem to find your footing? Living a dream deferred?

It’s difficult to know what to do when we’re stuck in a funk and can’t extricate ourselves. Some folks take time off. A week, a month, or even a year. To step back and breathe. If we’re financially set, that’s a smart move, but how many of us are?

No. For many of us, taking a significant amount of time to recoup isn’t an option. Even the few dollars I make here are better than zip. And if I was to lay low for a month, I’d be forgotten faster than you can say “whatever happened to Sherry McGuinn?”

I was talking to a friend about this, a brilliant, engaging writer who left this platform because he was tired of the bullshit. Tired of being discounted, while watching the turd-slingers rise to the top of Medium.

I explained to him that I felt as if I was constantly in motion yet getting nowhere. And that’s been my pattern for the last few years. A lack of focus has me trying this and discarding that, while never actually completing anything of worth.

There’s a screenplay I started approximately two years ago called Cheat, a contemporary take on Looking For Mr. Goodbar. I was chugging away and got to around page 46 when I sidelined the project to spend more time writing here. And to pitch my other projects as my past reps have lacked the passion to adequately…well…sell shit, you know? And until I find one that does, if ever, I’m my own best promoter.

So there’s Cheat and my most recent pie-in-the-sky idea: A novel. Why not, right? Hollywood adapts books for the big and small screens all the time. I mean, look at Reece Witherspoon. That’s what her production company, “Hello Sunshine” (gag) is most keen on, adaptations.

I hate you, Reece. I don’t care how cutesy you are. You talk a good game about giving women a leg up in the industry but you haven’t done doodly squat for me.

After I told my friend that I was torn between the two projects, he fired back, “why not do both?”

Now, picking up where I left off on my screenplay and writing a book never occurred to me. That’s what evaporating self-esteem will do to a person. Make us believe that our possibilities have dwindled. That we’re no longer capable of achieving our dreams, or even, acknowledging that we have them.

After a certain point, it feels silly, doesn’t it? To say with confidence, “I want to do this, or I want to be that.”

It shouldn’t be this way but that’s what happens when we let outside forces, or rather, toxic energy, along with our own insecurities, strip us of our fire, our passion. Especially as we age.

Fight the power. It feels as if I’ve been doing this my whole life. An invisible blockade that keeps me from realizing my full potential.

What the hell does that mean, anyway? And, does it matter?

Certainly, there are many of you who’ve been fighting right along with me. It gets wearying, doesn’t it? Batting away the bullshit that keeps us from believing that we are all, (short of the assholes), capable of amazing and wondrous triumphs, even the tiny ones. Like helping another human being feel good about themself even when we’re down in the weeds.

How about you? Is there something you’re striving for but can’t seem to get over the proverbial hump? Do you let the “powers that be” make you feel small and inadequate? Here’s what I decided to do:

Fuck ‘em.

Follow my lead. Whether you’re eighteen or eighty, do you, baby. That sounds so trite, but I’ve been around the block a few times and I know what’s up.

Fight the power. Battle those bastards. With your words, your ideas, your sheer brilliance — and your humanity.

As for me, I’ve gone back to Cheat and downloaded a template for my book.

It’s a start.

© Sherry McGuinn, 2022. All Rights Reserved.

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Sherry McGuinn is a slightly-twisted, longtime Chicago-area writer and award-winning screenwriter. She is currently pitching her newest screenplay, “The Month We Fell Apart,” a drama with dark, comedic overtones and inspired by a true story, as well as “DEAD TIRED,” a female-driven, ass-kicking thriller.