As the asteroid dust begins to settle, we can now look back at the impact50 competition that left a lot of us with a real emotional impact, some good some bad.
For me personally the competition represented another lifeline after years of trial and error & error & error…
With the impending feeling that maybe writing is not for me after all… combined with all those voices of people echoing there pennies worth “Hairy fairy career” , “what are you going to do for a real job” , “its good but not what we’re looking for right now” , if you’ve ever written you’ve surely heard some of these, unless you’re incredibly lucky.
Then from a galaxy far far away … the create50 initiative comes a long with new hope, 50 writers will win the chance to have their script made, attend a red carpet screening & be presented with an award… a new fire soon began to burn inside… what an amazing opportunity… I can do this!
So like a keyboard ninja I set about writing several scripts, designed a movie poster, even uploaded a piece of dramatic music… for the first time I really felt like part of the process. The feedback on my scripts was amazing and insightful and truly an experience I’ve never encountered with any competition…
So when my script ‘Last Honour’ was shortlisted my heart nearly burst with excitement ( Which i contained because the gas man was serving my boiler at that moment:) )
I began imagining and believing I was good enough again, visualising my suit for the screening and awards.
Until the day came… the final list… like most of us I had weighed the odds up.. surely this was going to happen…. then the sword fell. Crestfallen would be an understatement… I double checked, no quadruple checked the list. Nope, I didn’t make the cut..
It was hard because although it was a bitter pill to swallow I congratulated those fellow participants that I had befriended on social media with their success… their work was undoubtedly fantastic.
But my fire and passion was yet again extinguished like a match in a blizzard.
For weeks I could not even look at my computer, for months the white towel felt like it had hit the canvas again …but some how, I’ve climbed back on that horse like we always do with one hand on the reigns and the other entering yet another more twisted competition… the fire might not be burning as bright.. but we’re still writers at the end of the night.