what i consider the beginning of my career

There’s a quote I think of often. I never knew the origin until writing this article and a quick google search has told me it's from American social psychologist, Amy Cuddy, the inventor of the ‘power pose’ theory (which I learned from an episode of Grey’s Anatomy). But the quote is:

“The way you tell your story to yourself matters”. 

I don’t know the context in which Dr. Cuddy explains it, but the words took on new meaning in my own head (in various little areas of life). The primary one is in terms of my career.

If someone were to ask me how my career started, there are a bevy of answers I could choose from. It could be the first time I directed (a scene in high school sophomore year), the first job I was employed in (working as a lab technician at my dad’s civil engineering firm the summer before senior year of high school), the first job in college (working at my campus theatre as an usher), my first industry related gig (an unpaid internship as a creative development intern), my first paid gig (intern at National Geographic turned into full time coordinator there), my film studies degree, my first time on set, and on and on I could go back and forth in time. 

But none of those are what spring to mind. In how I tell my story to myself, my career began in 2011 at age thirteen. I was in eighth grade and it was mandated for all ‘gifted’ students in my county to create a research project for National History Day. There were various types of projects to choose from, but I chose to create an individual performance (aka a ten minute monologue) in which I played Benjamin Franklin. Most of my classmates reluctantly presented their projects and continued on with their regularly scheduled curriculums, but a handful were selected to compete at the county level. I was the only individual performance. There were a few research papers, one group performance centering on Gandhi, and another project I can’t remember (I believe some type of exhibit).

The theme was Debate & Diplomacy, so I orchestrated a scene in which Benjamin Franklin is recounting the story of the revolution to a group of wealthy French citizens as an attempt to win monetary support for the patriot cause. I integrated primary source documents (aka Benjamin Franklin’s personal letters) into my narrative, weaving his words with my own, and studied everything I could about his mannerisms (how he walked, how he wrote, etc.). Many of the details escape me now, but I remember Franklin was left-handed, walked with a limp from gout, and, as thirteen/fourteen-year-old me surmised to my mother (according to her), “Mama, he was quite the player”. 

At county I placed second, and won the chance to continue on to states. This lit a fire, and I was determined to best whoever beat me. I am very selectively competitive. My only other true nemesis in life was a girl in preschool. (She and I were the only two ones in the reading program at KinderCare and she was better at reading than me so I hated her. Again, also according to my mother. I have no memory so I cannot confirm or deny.) In both instances neither foe knew I was coming for them. 

I worked nonstop, between my other insane middle school commitments. I was taking ballet, tap, and jazz classes, in choir, in the school play, taking private music lessons, in the Writer’s Guild, in every advanced (‘GT’) class, in the county book club, in green club, in debate club, and so much more that I can hardly believe I managed it all at once. I was full Hermione Granger mode. 

Then, despite some minor fumbles, I won first in state. It was the first thing I had ever truly won in my life. A medal that signified all the hardwork I had put into this project. All the sleepless nights, and long term injuries (I developed tendonitous that year, a chronic injury that flares up often and annoys me to no end), were worth it because through work I did all on my own I created a story and put it out in the world to an audience of experts who understood exactly what I was trying to do. I did not win by default or lack of competition. Those were some of the brightest middle school minds in the state that I went up against and won through hard work, creativity, and intellect. 

I was then on cloud nine and a bit exhausted. I came back to school and was again thrown into preparing for Nationals, which were hosted in Maryland to my great annoyance (some students got to miss school and come all the way from Hawaii, Alaska, and even Guam. I had to drive twenty minutes to my state university which hosted the event). But by then, I was already thrilled with what I had done. This time around, there was no stress (or maniachial goal) or self-inflicted pressure surrounding my performance. I got to just enjoy it, knowing it was the last time I would inhabit Ben Franklin’s shoes. And it was my favorite performance I had done. Only the finalists were announced (of which I was not), so I have no idea how high or low I placed. I could have been dead last. It didn’t matter. The entire experience showed me the thing I was searching for my whole life until then. 

I had been a textbook overachiever. That year I even managed straight A’s on top of all the things I juggled. But none of it meant as much as what I had accomplished with a single project. All in all, I spent nine months working on the project and it cemented my love of storytelling, writing, research, history, and performance (even if I’m not the one performing). 

When it came to high school, I was wholly changed. I no longer felt like I had anything to prove so I didn’t join every club. I didn’t care about what I scored on the SATs, or getting straight A’s , or even what my grades were. I focused on absorbing as much actual information as I could, not trying to memorize answers for a test (so while my test scores went from straight As to a mixed bag, my sense of general knowledge went up). I devoted most of my energy to maximizing what I could learn in my theatre and english classes because I knew in my bones that storytelling and performance were my future. Whether I was brave enough to admit that to anyone other than myself is another story altogether. 

Working on my own creative project through History Day inadvertently showed me everything I would ever need to know about what I wanted my life to be. It jumpstarted my career without me or anyone ever expecting it to. It was an ordinary, mandated class assignment that showed me who I wanted to be. Winning state was just a bonus, the true win was the understanding it gave me. There are many more impressive or grander things that have happened in my career that many others probably would consider the start of my journey. But it’s this odd little anecdote about a history obsessed tween who decided to play Benjamin Franklin that is how I tell my story to myself. And I think everyone plots their own paths to their careers, and it’s important to know where you believe you started because it will show where you want to go. It doesn’t even have to be something you got paid for (mine isn’t) or something you do as an adult. It can be anything you want it to be, because the main audience for your life story is you. Tell it well and tell it true.

castlist:

What is friendship but just stuff people do?

Reese and Meghana met 5 years ago today, inexplicably bonded by their weird senses of humor, love of Disney movies, and the fact that they were already roommates. From getting in trouble at work by making each other laugh too hard, to braving 18 hour dollar bus rides to visit one another, to vacationing together, to moving across the country and ending up in the same city - five years has been a lifetime and yet only the beginning. They love making content, writing, literature, photography, and this blog is just another thing they wish to do together.

Reese

Reese is a mid-twenty-something who hates writing about herself in the third person. She loves to read, write, and craft although she seems to rarely have time to pursue any of her hobbies. She studied English and Entrepreneurship in school because she has a deep interest in words beginning with the letter E, and applies her education to her career in marketing. 

Reese was born and raised in Georgia where she currently lives with her partner and senior chihuahua. Both Reese and her partner are Scoprios, but who knows what sign the senior chihuahua is (many speculate he is a virgo). In her free time, Reese loves to thrift and travel. Recently, she coped with her quarter life crisis by becoming a runner and a Pilates princess (forgoing her original plan of buying a motorcycle). When she grows up, she wants to be either a Southern Literature Professor, comedian, or something in the middle. Her vices include energy drinks and ironic t-shirts.

Meghana

Meghana is a mid-twenty-something writer and filmmaker waiting for the strikes to be over (go unions!). She has been working on her first novel for almost a decade (but swears it’s basically almost done once she rewrites the next half of it), and is also writing projects she soon hopes to film (*cough* go unions! *cough*). She studied theatre in high school and fell in love with directing. Midway through college she switched majors to film studies because as much as she loved theatre, her favorite medium has always been film. She has worked in all sorts of departments in film and television (for networks, studios, film school, and more), and is learning how to forge her way through to a career with no direct path. 

Meghana was born and raised in Laurel, Maryland and moved to Atlanta to escape the horrible pollen in her parent’s backyard. And also for the Georgia Film Academy, which she graduated from this year. She is interested in far too many topics including history (specifically the American Revolution but also more than that), art (and apologizes to Reese for taking a picture of every landscape at every art museum they visit together), photography, travel, literature, cinema, and so much more. When she grows up she wants to be an author and film director so this blog is sharing the journey of how she eventually gets there. Or it’s just some more stuff she does.