That Home Stretch Kind of Feeling

In February of 2005, I spontaneously decided to interview my grandmother. We had just played three games of crib and she'd skunked me without mercy, all five feet, two inches of her. Of course she apologized each time as we drank tea and ate shortbreak in her Coquitlam apartment, in one of many magical moments I enjoyed with her.

She was 87.  None of us knew she'd get sick and be gone one short month later.

Lynn Sternberger & Evan Elberson in
Term 5 Advanced TV Pilot class

As luck would have it, I had bought a pocket recorder for journalistic purposes that morning. So out it came and the conversation began. She'd been like a mother to me my whole life and I just knew this was going to be good. I didn't realize that what started as a whim would end up being my last face-to-face conversation with her and a permanent audio scrapbook of her life and thoughts. I can't tell you how glad I am that I did that.

One of my questions had to do with the passage of time. I asked her if 87 years felt like it had gone by quickly or slowly, a short time or a long time.

"Both," she answered. "On one hand, it feels like I was 16 just yesterday. But if I really think about all the things I saw and did, and add them up, I realize I've had a long, wonderful life. And that feels pretty good."

*              *              *

The "Great Toms Tour" of August 29, 2011.
(Opening act: 70s band, "Iron Baser.")

Now, I distinctly remember reading our first term schedule like it was yesterday. And Steve Toms' backwards-ballcapped tour through the student services office. And Piers Rae's much shorter hair. And I've got the pictures to prove it. So is it possible we're really almost done? I'm not simply getting nostalgic here; I want to know where the heck the time went!

But that was August 29, 2011. So whoosh! That's what a year feels like. Doesn't get any better with age either, believe me. Time is a child you just can't ever put to bed.

The desirable, the
unstoppable Piers Rae

Having said that, time is a lot more fair than we give it credit for - assuming, of course, we take advantage of it. As students, we always knew exactly what classes would be coming up in the next term, what subjects would be covered, what we'd have to read, what assignments would be due, and when. We were urged to listen to upcoming guest speakers and to take advantage of every contest, every invitation to submit, every chance to network. We were encouraged to step outside of our comfort zones and not wait for VFS to hook us up with students in other departments. Time marches on to be sure, but we were advised by "The Baze" (a.k.a. writing department head, Michael Baser) and those that had taken the hero's journey before us to alternately discipline and spend ourselves in the pursuit of excellence, opportunity, and wherever possible, free food.

The smart ones did. And when I and tally it all up, I realize we got a buttload of stuff done! The sheer volumeof our is staggering, way beyond anything I originally imagined. Scripts, outlines, beat sheets and/or bibles for feature and short films, TV specs, original TV pilots, animated series, web series, commercials and movies of the week. And those are just the tangibles!

What we can hold in our hands at the end of a year, amazing as it is, doesn't begin to cover the intangibles: the contacts made, the industry savvy gained, the confidence developed, the collaborative skills acquired, the story-writing disciplines achieved, and perhaps most importantly, the increased self-awareness and ability to call ourselves on our own bullshit. The stuff you can't just poke brass brads through and stuff in a backpack. The stuff that makes us true professionals and, if we were really paying attention, better people.

Because it was never about tests or grades or other figurative gold stars. In the film industry, you can either do the job or you can't. You're either professional, or you're not. You're either the kind of person want to work with or you're not, and that has nothing to do with bell curves or balloons. If I may riff on the words of a wise old wizard, it all has to do with how we value and manage the time we've been given. At VFS, we were given a year. Judging by the bags under our eyes and the unmistakably improved quality of our writing, I get the impression most of us used it wisely.

So, like my grandma, when I reflect back on what we actually did, the classes we sat through, the things we discussed, the scripts we workshopped, and the number of times Kate belched in class, I realize that we had a pretty full and exciting year! It doesn't stop time from feeling like it just a'whistles by, because in some naggingly abstract way we can't quite put our fingers on, it always does. But it should at least make us feel that good that we were passionate about something, committed a year of our lives to it, give it our all and saw it through to the end. And we're better writers. And we've built relationships with some great future collaborators. And we have a way clearer idea of how the industry ticks.

All we have to do is think about where our heads were at on August 28, 2011. What we thought of ourselves. What we thought about writing. What we thought about our futures. And we'll realizing we've come a long, long way. All because we dared to step apart from our former lives and do what we always wanted to do. And not waste a second going after it!