Yes, And

Give the Art of the Possible a Chance. Go on. Try it.

Fun fact: For about four or five years in my early to mid-twenties, I did improv in Portland, Oregon. Improv is not the same as sketch comedy, but let’s just say they’re cousins (first). I was thisclose to getting offered a spot on Saturday Night Live, and by thisclose, I mean I watched a lot of SNL and my friend Chris mocked up what my opening credits photo might look like…

Disclosure: This photo was actually taken in my 30s, in the parking lot of a Bon Jovi concert I went to with my fabulous friend and bestselling author Karyn Bosnak. If y’all are not yet subscribed to her Meet the Mess Substack that she does with her bestie and fellow bestselling author, my lovebug Jen Lancaster, please go fix that, ASAP.

ANYHOO (damn this ADHD be making it hard to stay FOCUSED), one rule from those improv years that has never left my body is the guiding principle of Yes, and. You don’t shut a scene down because you can’t envision where it’s going, or if it can go anywhere. You take what’s offered and you build on it, even when… no, make that especially when you have no idea what you just agreed to.

I bring this up because that Yes, and mentality might be the greatest tool in my How to Live Life box. One of my latest examples…

Ten days. That’s how much runway I had between finding out a funding grant directly tied to a project I’m a producer on was accepting applications, and the deadline to submit it. And I’m not talking about just any grant. A truly prestigious one, the kind that comes from a place when the name is said, no further explanation required.

I’d run this gauntlet before with the same funding source years ago. It was for a different program related to a screenwriters lab opportunity. At the time, I’d just finished adapting my second novel into a feature film script (honestly, I’d always envisioned on the screen vs. on the page). That time, I made it through the first (and only) round of cuts before the final twelve were announced. Didn’t earn one of those spots, but even getting down-selected was something to celebrate, especially for my first time out, and my first time writing in that format.

But when I saw this new deadline for a fund that was right in the wheelhouse of another project, with just ten days until the deadline, my first thought was: We could never pull this off in time.

Aka It’ll never work. Aka No. Not even No, but… just No. The furthest thing away from Yes, and.

Based on my experience with my previous application to this organization, I also knew the process was arduous and lengthy. No ten question true / false questionnaire here. Makes sense, considering the tens of thousands of dollars funding. We’re talking topic summary, artistic approach, comps (and why), connection and point of view, audience consideration, intended impact, team bios, a detailed production budget, and more.

But instead of saying the impossible sentence to my producing partners, or not bothering to mention it at all, I brought it to their attention and said something closer to What if we just tried. Because some old improv reflex in me still knows the difference between a scene-ending line and a scene-building one.

They said Yes, and. We split up the application. And put in a boat load of work. Collaborating, asking for help and feedback, editing, fine tuning. Supporting. Believing.

And ten days later, several hours before the final-final deadline… it was in. And it’s GOOD y’all, if I do say so myself (and I just did).

We’ll find out by the end of the year if we got down-selected, and then by early spring if we’re one of the funded projects. But we already won: everything that went into putting this application together helped us further refine our mission, what this project is, and why it matters. We came out the other side with sharper language about the work and unbridled momentum.

I’m not saying the I could nevers (and all its variations) have been successfully eradicated from existence. They pesky, persistent lil’ things, aren’t they? I’m just suggesting the next time one shows up, no matter how reasonable it sounds, might be worth trying the other line first… just to see where the scene goes.

xo,
SG

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