Late, Late, Late

I’m so sorry this blog post is coming to you at the end of the week. I have been once again struggling to keep up with everything, as I usually do when things slide sideways for me. Life seems determined to ensure that I’m always off balance.

I won’t go into too many details. Some of it because it involves other people and I can’t yet, some of it because it involves an ongoing situation that I cannot extract myself from yet.

*makes a crazy wish to suddenly get 5000 monthly subscribers*

For now, I’d like to ignore all the things throwing up emotional road blocks and talk about Iron Lung some more. More? Yes. More. I went and saw it last week and have written a review of it. You can read it here.

The long and short of it is that I really enjoyed the film, and the level of polish on it just blew me away. But that’s not what I want to talk about.

I have been closely watching the rise of the film, and some of the drama around it with a certain kind of… I won’t say jealousy, because that’s not right… more… yearning, I guess. Not for the film, but for the way the film worked out. The way it became a breakout hit, and a success beyond everyone’s expectations.

Here is a completely independent film; independently financed, independently created, independently filmed, and independently distributed that made it to number one in the charts in several countries. Other independent films have had to go the festival route in the hopes of picking up a major distributor so they can have a theatrical release.

Not so Iron Lung. Mark himself got in contact with a few cinemas, got some outside help when needed, and from there, it just… blew up. It ran away, thanks wholly to Mark’s fan base, who called and emailed cinemas, asking for a showing near them. And when those showings became available, they sold out, creating a momentum that just snowballed until the film went on to make 21 million dollars its opening weekend (more than 6 times its budget), and even managed to get an additional week in many theatres.

I can only dream of what that must feel like; to have something just bust out of every expectation and become a smashing success.

Such an example must give so many aspiring film makers a sense of hope. For them, the door is cracked open a bit. It might be that they will now not have to spend thousands of dollars touring their films at festivals, just to maybe get distribution deals that mean they earn a meagre amount despite whatever success they achieve. Once there, though, they can now edge their way into the Hollywood machine. Because they’ve been noticed by the gate keepers.

Mark did not do that. He kicked down that gate and strode in with his loud voice and obstinate nature. A pioneer that has opened possibilities for others looking for an in that have been unwilling or unable to turn themselves into grist for the Hollywood mill.

I wish I could say that I was similarly heartened and inspired. Instead, I’m feeling a little wistful. Not jealous, because I know for a fact that Mark has worked incredibly hard, and he deserves every bit of this recent success. But wistful. My smile has a little rueful turn.

Much of my current mood has been inspired by this feeling of the very real possibility that I’m never going to make it. I’m not saying this for you all to start pitying me. At all. I chose this path. I am the captain of my ship. Whether I succeed or fail falls entirely on me.

But I’m staring down a retirement plan of dropping dead at work, or perhaps becoming a statistic in the water wars of 2056. It feels like whatever small step I manage to take, the universe pushes me back several more. Just as I start gathering momentum, the universe flips me a giant bird and drops a boulder on the road.

Of course, I recognise Mark’s and my situations are extremely different. Mark has 38 million subscribers; a loyal fan base that he’s cultivated over a very long time, a fan base he genuinely deserves, that can and will mobilise.

As an aside, if anything comes out about that man being a horror, I’m going to lose my god damned mind.

And the medium here is visual.

I, on the other hand, do not have nearly that kind of following (hello, lovelies. You are awesome) and my medium is written. And the news about how many people read is depressing… and getting more so. I do not have the force of millions of people clamouring for my next work the way he does, and with readership falling hand over fist every year, it’s very likely that I never will.

None of my releases would generate the kind of word of mouth marketing that Iron Lung was sure to get.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m extremely grateful for what I do have. I have a number of books that did, at one stage, make it into bookshop, and managed a couple of good reviews. I also have you, the lovely folks reading this, and the lovely folks who have decided to help support me financially with a subscription.

But nothing I’ve ever created has been able to pay for rent for even a month, let alone support my day to day life.

​Which was ever the dream.

Part of this is, of course, the ever-present and pervasive battle with depression that has been my life to date. It is sometimes a little hard to see my achievements through that thick grey curtain.

So I am thrilled that this very independent venture proved such a success. And I’m so thrilled for the independent filmmakers that come behind, with the gate perhaps swung shut against but enough off its hinges from Mark Kool-Aid Man-ing his way into that space, that might be able to squeeze through as well.

But watching it all unfold like a flower in the spring has just made me feel, well… wistful. Feeling a little like I’m on the outside looking into a world and a feeling I will never know.

If I sound really sad, it’s because I am. Depression, remember. And also other things that I’m not allowed to talk about yet. God, I can’t wait until this whole thing is over and I can talk about it with you.

Anyway, part of why this blog post is so late because I’ve really been fighting against this malaise that has made functioning difficult this week. It wasn’t really Iron Lung’s success that has me spiralling. It’s been everything else that’s been happening in my life at the same time. I would look at anyone’s sudden success the same way in the mood I’m in.

I should probably note that I’m alright. I’m okay. I might be headed down right now, but unlike before I was diagnosed, I know what is happening, and I also know that it will end. It’s not so scary and much easier to deal with since the diagnosis. So please don’t worry for or pity me. Much of it is just my brain doing its thing. It’ll pass.

My point is, it’s exciting to see an independent creator succeed in this way, even if it feels right now like I won’t be able to follow suit.

I’m still going to try, or course. I’m nothing if not stubborn as hell. My heels are fully dug in.

This was a very long, rambling post which didn’t say much. For that, I’m sorry. That’s just the headspace I’m in right now.

I’m going to go write the subscriber-exclusive blog post (rant) now.

Slán go foill!