Tales From The Inside

Chapter Four: Putting It Into Words

College was a given for me. I had never even considered not attending. Blame my parents, but it was so deeply ingrained in me, I never really gave myself any other choice. I lived in a small town, riddled with stories of people who never made it out. I knew I had to leave, and I wasn't ready to go out on my own just yet. I utilized my guidance counselor to find what schools around North Carolina had majors in Film. I look back and wonder now why I chose to limit myself to NC. There are so many great schools out there, but for some reason I couldn't come to terms with leaving my home state. I was very prone to becoming homesick, and to my own discredit, really couldn't see beyond the borders. At that time, I knew that Los Angeles was in my future, but it seemed like a far-off place I would go after college. Me looking into the future resembled someone looking into another life really. But in NC, I got lucky.

I applied to four NC schools. Some with film studies programs, and one, an arts conservatory with a major in filmmaking called, North Carolina School of the Arts. I knew of this school for various reasons. My cousin had gone for dance, and I had spent a summer there doing one of their Summer Session programs. It was this school that would allow you to actually learn the technical aspects of filmmaking and give you a chance to actually make movies. It seemed like the place for me if I decided to go the filmmaking route. But I still wasn't sure. I secretly hoped that maybe my choices would be narrowed down by process of elimination.

I applied and waited. And waited. It was a stressful time as my friends started to be accepted to their schools of choice. And as fate would have it, my answers started rolling in as well. Letters of acceptance from all schools except NCSA. Cruel fate. I had almost completely lost hope, telling myself that it was for the best. And then I get a letter informing me of an interview at NCSA. An interview. I was a mess of nerves. How on earth could someone who knew next to nothing about movies convince a panel of professors that I belonged at their school. I pictured myself in a conference room of glaring men, (all closely resembling the man from my job shadow experience), rolling their eyes at my "ambition" and lack of knowledge of the field. How could I describe my excitement and feelings without sounding like a bumbling fool? And I didn't have dyed hair or tattoos or anything else that I have convinced myself was a necessity of someone who went to an art school. Today I find that irrational and very narrow minded, but to me then, it was legitimate fear I had. My lack of body art would make me stand out like a sore thumb, just screaming, "I don't belong here!"

The date rolled around and I found myself in the car with my mother driving to Winston-Salem, NC. I think I fidgeted the entire way, reading over copies of my application and essays I had sent in months earlier. Coming up with answers to questions that I could potentially be asked like, "Do you want to devote your life to this? How do you know?" or "What makes you stand out as an applicant to film school? What have you done to prepare for entering this world?" I tortured myself for four hours, too nervous to listen to music and too unsure of myself to ever be satisfied with my simulated answers.

But time doesn't stop for preparation. At a certain point, you are either ready or you're not. The fact that in my mind, so much was riding on this interview, that whether or not I was accepted to this school was going to determine my future, made things ten times harder for myself. It was that frame of mind made it impossible for me to ever feel prepared. It was a bed that I had made for myself. One that I was forced to lie in.

It is something that now I look back on and nearly laugh at my former self. I had basically been putting my entire future into one acceptance or denial. Theoretically, I was going to let one misstep discourage me from going after something that I really wanted. It's something I later learned was fatal in this industry, or any industry for that matter. You are going to fail from time to time. And you can't let failure discourage you. You use that experience to learn and grow and develop.

In the interview, I stuttered and was nervous and am pretty sure I called the man "ma'am". But they were very nice, and didn't seem completely astounded when I didn't start to recite all of Spielberg's films, alphabetically and by year. (Actually they seemed relieved.) I told them about my job shadow and watching film crews downtown. I think I even said something cheesy like, "I belong here". Of course the, "even though I don't have dyed hair or tattoos," was implied.

Nonetheless, I cried after the interview. I cried because of the relief I felt that it was over, and I cried because as nice as they were, I thought I had blew it in all my stuttering and movie unbuffness. I think I probably cried because I thought that I was never going to be a part of "it". That the dream was just that: a dream.

After all this talk of failure and discouragement, I think its important to note that I was later accepted. I can not express my relief enough. I had been in such a state of anxiety that I sincerely believe that if I had not been accepted, I would have thrown all my determination and hopes for the future away. Today, I probably would be a teacher or worse, an architect working at my dad's firm.

Now this is the part of the story where I made a choice that would forever change my life. As I was accepted, after all that, I'm sure you think it is clear what my choice would be. But it wasn't. I was beyond relieved that it was an option, and as strongly as I was leaning in that direction, I still needed that assurance that this is what I really wanted to do. Going to this college meant it was going to be real. I wouldn't be able to switch majors, I would graduate with an inflexible degree in filmmaking. I think this insecurity probably came from the adults around me being mystified that an eighteen year old already knew what they wanted to do for a living. None of my friends knew for sure. How could I?

Eventually, I made my decision. I got a hold of myself and remembered how I felt that day that I was "on the inside" at my job shadow. I realized that as old as I felt, at eighteen I was still very young and this opportunity probably wouldn't come around again. I gathered all my courage and self-esteem, and checked the box that said "Yes, I will be attending NCSA".

As I hope that this will one day be able to help someone who wants to get into film, I feel like it is important for me to point out once again that film school is not required. For me, I thought it was my ticket in. While it was one of the single greatest experiences of my life, when it comes down to it, film school is not a ticket in. It can certainly help, as I will later get into, but by no means is it the definitive way to get to the other side of those barriers.

Labels: film school, getting accepted, interview

posted by ms bct @ 7:21 PM