Musings from a Chicago Indie Film Producer

Note: Originally published on April 13th, 2021.

In 2018, I produced two independent feature films that shot in two different states: they shot at basically the same time, found funding at the same time, got cast finalized at about the same time, and are currently on track to get distributed at about the same time.

For most in our Chicago Film Community, on the outside looking in, it was a sign of success and bad-ass-ness. And, very literally, it represented a huge milestone in my movie career — I had raised 1.2million in a little over six months for two projects near and dear to my heart. But it was in the middle of the shoots — when locations were being found and union deals being negotiated and we were casting more roles and raising more money — that I personally started to slowly fall apart.

To be honest, it was less of a slow descent in to shambles, and more of a racecar-hitting-a-brick-wall-and-exploding-into-flames sort of experience. I’ll spare you most of the details, but I will share that it was a great moment of great reckoning.

Miriam Webster defines reckoning as such:

1. The act or instance of reckoning, such as an account or bill
2. A settling of accounts
3. A summing up

The second one certainly fits my experience in an oddly powerful way. I’d even go a bit further and define it as a growing pain for your Soul.

Since graduating in 2013, I’ve had three reckonings that have resulted in the following:

1. Leaving my job as Executive Producer at The Onion in 2014 to produce an off-broadway-boogie-woogie-dueling-piano-show in Brooklyn, New York for $200 per week.
2. Finally “getting the chance” to try online dating apps and hating them
3. Most recently, taking 2.5 years off of producing movies and going back to school to get certified as a Life Coach

Within the latest reckoning, I found something I had lost: joy. And that is what this is blog post is actually about.

My time in film school was incredibly joyful — yes, it was stressful and trying and unnecessarily dramatic and I cried a lot and cared too much about everything — but it represents such an awesome, fearless period of my life. I was running around working gigs as a PA or Assistant Director to pay the bills, while taking advantage of ALL of the equipment and resources DePaul University had to offer to make my own content. I threw myself in to every opportunity — saying yes to things I didn’t know how to do, feigning confidence when I had none, letting my ego run the show (unnecessarily at times), building a “production company” when it was really just a cool logo, and more…. I was thirsty, and addicted to the endorphins of learning.

When you graduate film school, the dream of “making it” — and all of the magical allure that comes with the idea of awards and celebrity — is still very much alive, it was for me.

I’ve since discovered that, too often, our dreams are formulated the same way a Hallmark movie might be — with juuuuuussst enough conflict to keep it interesting and a happy ending that doesn’t make anyone feel too uncomfortable. Now, nearly a decade later, in talking to my friends and colleagues, many reference that “the dream has died”. And, as you take the next step out in to the world, you may very well be afraid of feeling the same.

I call bullshit on that version of the dream.

I don’t believe dreams can happen without reckonings, and I don’t believe dreams die. I believe they evolve as you do. The dream you have now will be more informed in five years; you will have learned something new about how you like to work and, more importantly, how you like to live. It is not about achieving the dream, it is about the pursuit of it. It is in the process of the evolution of your dreams that you will find your joy.

If I could gift one thing to each of you, it would be the ability to stay present in the process of creating, and not put so much significance on the end result. Do we all dream of seeing our names in the credits, with a large audience, cheering for our film we just premiered? Yes, AND that doesn’t have to be the sum total of the experience. I often tell folks that a large part of directing happens before you even get on set — it begins during development; yet, here in Chicago, I notice that everyone thirsts after production like it’s the best thing since sliced bread, as if telling a story is singularly defined by cameras rolling, or final animations rendering.

The process of creating your art is so much greater than that. You, as an artist and storyteller, are so much more imaginative and nuanced and skilled and magical than just a singular period of time.

Want to know a secret? I actually prefer development, even if it takes years. Yes, I love production, but I LOVE the initial creation process — watching and nurturing an idea until it’s ready to be fully realized. I love the script notes and the strategy and the casting and finding money — I love the relationships that are formed as a result. I love the process of creating.

And, that’s where you will find the creative fulfillment you’re looking for: in the process. It’s not in the festivals or the awards or even in the finished product — it’s in the sum total of all of it. I challenge each of you to practice focusing on the process (instead of the result), and see what happens.

As women and non-binary folks in film, you will come across many glass ceilings. I know I have, and I will continue to. This is an industry based on the powerful perception of glass ceilings — of glass pedestals and cases and people. And the more we think and strategize and fear those glass ceilings, the more power they have. So, put together your Shatter Kit — your box of tools and hammers and books and cameras — and get ready to go.

My Shatter Kit includes:

1. The belief that everything happens for a reason: a high-level trust in the Universe to hold me when I fall
2. Boxing gloves and a kickboxing gym
3. Alllllllll the support structures: coaching, personal therapy, couples therapy, acupuncturist, personal trainer, assistant
4. Close friends
5. An organized email inbox
6. A rigorous well-being routine
7. A tissue box
8. The next book on leadership and personal development
9. A dogged determination to do my best and hold others to the same standard
10. A No BS policy
11. Radical empathy and curiosity and kindness
12. Audio book murder mysteries, a dog, and long walks
13. Ferocity and power — bestowed unto myself from myself

Notice that nothing in my Shatter Kit is specific to the film industry — and that’s important. When I hit a career block in late 2014 — where I felt like the mentorship and community I was looking for wasn’t here — I started an organization in partnership with Cinespace and built it myself. When I felt like I needed a friend group that included folks not in the industry, I built it myself. When I needed to find more money for a film, I worked really, really hard to build new relationships to do so.

And so can you.

So, tighten your bootstraps, put together your Shatter Kit and practice finding joy in the process. The power and joy and success you’re seeking is already there — you just need to channel it.

With love,

Angie

Angie Gaffney is a film producer, life coach, and entrepreneur based in Chicago, Illinois. To learn more about her or work with her, visit her website at www.angiegaffney.com