By Shane Stanley
It’s that time of year to brush the sand off your feet, let your suntans fade and the hangovers heal as you head back to class or get back to work.
Or is it?…
I’ll admit, I am obsessive compulsive when it comes to work. I don’t say that with any shame but certainly not with a great deal of pride either.
I was reminded of my deep seeded flaw this summer when a studio film I was hired to direct cancelled just six days before principal photography was to start and after several months of prep. I had just buttoned up post-production on Night Train, my previous film, Double Threat had released the week before, landing on The New York Times list of Top 5 Action Films to Stream, and I was heading into directing a studio picture. Life was good and moving incredibly fast, just the way I like it. But when I got the call from the studio the Tuesday before our Monday “start date” that there were legal issues with the script and they’d have to scrap it, I was numb.
Not because I was passionate or emotionally attached to the piece, but because it meant our cast and crew of over 100 people would be out of work. Jobs they and their families were relying on to cover the nut for the remainder of the year and during such financially uncertain times. Thankfully, most all of them were able to jump on other projects which certainly made me feel better until I realized for the first time in over eight years, yours truly had absolutely nothing to do.
I was supposed to be on that film through the first quarter of 2023, the same time Night Train releases and adding salt to the wound, my business partners on the independent filmmaking front had written me off until next year because of my studio commitment with plans of their own to travel the globe after a two-year ban thanks to COVID.
My phone was so quiet I would turn it off and on a few times a day to make sure it was working as I went from receiving hundreds of correspondences a day to absolute radio silence unless family or friends (or the occasional robocall) checked in. I was facing the first “break” I’ve had in over eight years and was starting to freak out.
For the first two weeks, I tinkered about wondering what project in my archives I could peck and poke at hoping to find something in the “old friends” file that sparked interest to become my next film. But I would quickly discover why those projects were shelved and was struggling to fill my days as a “filmmaker” knowing I was in the doldrums.
I tried to be the best husband I could, giving my wife, Val more time than ever for us to do some traveling, try new restaurants, and even rode that Palm Springs tram up the mountain and hiked for a day – something that’s been on our to-do list for over a decade. But after all that, spending over 80 hours sleeving both of my arms with tattoos, going to some concerts and Dodger games as well as picking up gardening, realized there is only one thing I am happiest doing, and that’s working.
Yeah, we all subscribe to the ‘do what you love and never work a day in your life’ moniker, but what’s the cost? Relationships… mediocre results… burnout?
What I came to realize during this downtime was how much I loved what I do, and frankly, for the first time since I can remember, it was taken from me, as in my 35 years as a producer, I’ve never had a committed project pushed or cancelled. Over the summer, I was reminded how much my film family meant to me and how much I enjoy teaching film students and up and comers just like you. But my most valuable lesson was learning the importance of taking a break.
As artists, we feel the constant need to be creating, earning a living, and let’s face it, staying relevant. I mean gawd forbid we aren’t “working on something” all the time, right? How would that go over during Thanksgiving dinner when asked by our skeptical family members who never supported our leaving home to go pursue a dream in the first place? Can you imagine going back to Ohio or Michigan for the holidays, and when being asked by your family, “What are you working on?” looking them square in the eye and telling them, “Absolutely nothing,” and being okay with that?
Well, for the first time since I can remember, that was me– doing a whole lot of nothing. I wasn’t burning the candle at both ends, waking up every day before dawn and staggering to bed like a zombie long after midnight. I got back into a good regimen of sleep and exercise and finally found some balance. It took me a while to function within it, but you know what, once I became comfortable, I realized how important it was for me.
How does any of this pertain to filmmaking and the craft? It’s everything.
I heard Don Henley say years ago after a successful album and world tour he needed to take a break and replenish the well. Collecting his thoughts, spending time with loved ones and regaining a sense of balance was everything to him to continue at that level because when you’re in the thick of it, we easily forget to do the most basic and important things that will ensure we live longer and provide us a much better quality of life.
This was a very important time for me and why I chose to write about it in this column is because I know what it’s like to be hungry and have a drive that is relentless and passionate. But don’t mistake your passion for obsession, and remember, it’s a marathon, not a sprint. Life is a long time, and it feels like only yesterday I was that bright-eyed and bushy-tailed kid willing to work on someone else’s set for twelve to fourteen hours a day then race home to work on my own stuff that I hoped would one day put me in a position of being successful. I have spent many a time lecturing about the importance of work ethic and to make sure you achieve something each day before your head hits the pillow and I still stand by that but have added the caveat of giving yourself time to breathe, regain a sense of purpose, and find focus before you continue down the trail. I know as I prep for my next project, I am more rejuvenated than I have ever been.
If you’ve read my book, “What You Don’t Learn in Film School,” you’ll notice I make a lot of sports references in comparison to our industry. I think if there was ever a parallel, it’s the importance of rest. When a season is over, athletes decompress and get their minds and bodies right during the offseason so they can perform at peak during the next. Yes, they’re usually mindful of eating right and doing light workouts during this downtime but they really take the time to heal and rebuild, and I encourage you to do the same whether you’re working full-time in the industry or holding three other jobs while pursuing your dream. What this downtime should offer you is a laundry list of great things; regaining a purpose and balance, rediscovering the passion you have for the craft, rekindling relationships, and learning more about yourself, which ultimately can spawn your greatest masterpiece ever and, better yet, save your life.
Until next time,
Shane 
Shane Stanley, filmmaker and author of the popular new book, “What You Don’t Learn In Film School” is a lifelong entertainment industry insider, who has worked in every aspect of the business, covering a multitude of movies, television shows and other successful projects. Stanley has been a steady earner in film and television since he was in diapers with a career that started in front of the camera at 9 months old and grew into a life of an Emmy Award-winning filmmaker spanning more than three decades. To order a copy of Shane’s book and for his seminar schedule, please visit: www.whatyoudontlearninfilmschool.com
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