Tag Archives: screenwriting

Week 6: Meeting Nell Scovell and the Power of Words

This past week, author of Just the Funny Parts: …And a Few Hard Truths About Sneaking into Hollywood’s Boy’s Club, and creator of one of my favorite shows, Sabrina the Teenage Witch Nell Scovell, visited William & Mary, spending an hour chatting with a group of students, faculty and community members, answering questions, giving advice, and leaving me with much to think about. In that hour, I learned that Scovell’s favorite thing she has ever written was a script that was never produced; which answered the question: What if people were judged by who they were and not what they looked like? I learned that people like Sheryl Sandberg, Anita Hill and other people who display courage in the face of pushback inspire her. And I learned that common threads in her work are her curiosity and the thrill of the challenge of writing something new.

While all of that was great, and I enjoyed her candor and humor in answering those questions, I was most moved by the conversations we had around her writing: her process, her motivations, and her advice. “If you’re a writer,” she said, “you can move into different worlds.” Scovell got her start writing sports articles for the Harvard Crimson. She spent time writing first person columns for Cosmopolitan, and even articles about leasing cars. I was so entranced by the allure of her writing for shows like Sabrina and The Simpsons, that it never occurred to me that she had a writing career before she “made it” in television.

Her adventures in writing were so diverse. They were expansive. Though she never said it explicitly, all she wanted to do was write, and she’d write about anything; just as long as she had an opportunity to put pen to paper or fingers on a keyboard. She was hungry for challenges. Nothing was impossible, there were only obstacles to conquer. Her stories were like a new age Odyssey but with a female lead. Writing, it became clear, can take you places. It can take you anywhere.

Scovell gave some great advice on writing. She told us that when you’re just starting out, just say yes, you never know where it will lead. She told us that you can’t just write, you have got to write a lot. And she told us that you must put yourself into the world to be judged. As someone who is still feeling the sting of her latest rejections, I had to ask her, “If you’re putting yourself out into the world to get judged and getting rejected, how do you deal?” She smiled and told me to keep those who support me close, and ultimately, take the feedback you want and screw the rest.

During the talk, she said one thing that really stood out to me, “I don’t understand people who are scared to try something new. If you do it well, it’s great, but if you fail, you have the best excuse in the world: ‘I’d never done this before!’” Instantly, I thought about the time Micah encouraged me to write a script. I gave her all the excuses: I’d never written one so I didn’t know how, I didn’t have an idea, I didn’t have software, and so on and so forth. Then I thought about the time I sat in a dimly lit room on the second floor of Clemons Library with a group of other Black UVA students and wrote monologues. I’d never written a monologue before. I’d also never written something that would be used for performance before, but I had a story that I needed someone, anyone, to hear and so I wrote.

I still have that hunger. I still have stories I need to tell. I still need to write.

I don’t know if there will ever come a day when I won’t need to put words on paper.

So I met Nell Scovell, and after Professor Losh generously plugged my blog during the talk, Scovell asked me to write down my site for her. I’m always still amazed when anyone wants to read my words. I wrote the link on the back of one of my new business cards and chatted with her for a while after the formal talk was over. She asked me if I wanted to write for TV and “yes” flew out of my mouth before my brain had a chance to catch up. Looking back, even if I’d had a second to think before I spoke, I still would have said yes. Anyone that knows me knows that I would love a crack at writing for a superhero TV show, particularly a spin off about a certain superhero girlfriend with the initials LL.

Nell Scovell cracked my world wide open with one simple question. One day, if I keep writing, writing a lot, and getting feedback, my writing is going to exist in a lot more places than this site and amongst the piles of other essays on my professors’ desks. My words do not have to know bounds. They can exist in academic journals, literary reviews, blogs, magazines, newspapers, TV, film, novels, screenplays. So long as I continue to believe in my words and put them out into the world, they can take me anywhere. I just have to believe it.

And I do. I really, really do.

(Oh, and Nell? If you’re reading this, thanks.)

Take 1: NYU Bound

You’d think after two years of pure hype anticipation for FINALLY being qualified to write for this blog I’d know how to introduce myself. But I don’t. My name’s Micah… I like making playlists. I make films and wear space buns. I love Cheerwine and I write plays. I’m about to graduate from UVA and you can’t convince me that Jesus was not Black. But, most recently, I’M A BLACK GIRL [ABOUT TO DO] GRAD SCHOOL!

The past six weeks have felt, in a word, brazy. I’ve gotten recognized three times by the Kennedy Center and accepted to three graduate programs of my dreams, all while making two films and staging a play. I also got baptized again—I’m especially happy about that. Everything has felt so incredibly surreal. I mean, literally. I walk around UVA’s grounds and people want to congratulate and interview me and I always feel like they’re looking for the wrong person. Like my communities have crafted me in their minds as some artistic prodigy. Sure, that sounds great (and tbh this entire paragraph is obnoxious), but it feels really bananas when I’m focusing on making sure I sleep and editing scripts and trying not to fall in love with Jonathan McReynolds. So I don’t really know who it is that everyone is asking for a quote from, but I’ve just been eating my pb&j and grinding. The present is all that’s felt real to me.

But today I feel infinite. And exhausted.

So why now?

One—because I’ve been promising Ravynn I would write something before I even put the words grad and school together.  Two—because I actually verbalized the phrase “I’m going to NYU.” this week. Three—because this is the first time that I’ve been excited about the future. I mean really excited. I’m not saying that I’ve been dreading the future, or that I’ve even had low expectations for myself (I mean, have y’all even met my God yet!?). But until this week everything has been so abstract. It’s been me trying to articulate myself into a statement of purpose. Or wiping spit from my ear after some nice church lady tells me that “God’s got plenty of plans for you.” Or my collaborators telling me that they’re gonna ride my coattails (stop it y’all! We’re in this grind TOGETHER.) But throughout this entire process, the future felt sometimes achievable, but never tangible.

Speaking of this process, let me run that back for y’all real quick:

In a very distant way, grad school has always been a part of the plan. Not as something that I necessarily wanted to do, but as another box on the “Twice As Good Checklist.” I didn’t really want it for myself until my second year of undergrad (l said “undergrad;” Am I a grownup now?) when I watched Ravynn and Kelsey go through their application processes during The Black Monologues. I wanted to love my work so much that I had to pursue it. That’s been reinforced by my hourly conversations with Ravynn about Blackness, literature, art, superheroes, film, afrofuturism, Buzzfeed quizzes. We’ve become so intellectually hungry together. I’ve gotten to a point where I have to satiate that desire. Add on to that my cohort/squad/family of Black artists at UVA that make me want to continue working with collaborators.

So I decided to apply to MFA programs in screenwriting and/or playwriting. The process didn’t go as smoothly as I would have hoped. Against the wishes of my brilliant mother/life advisor/future agent, I procrastinated attacking these applications until eh, say, October? Mind you, my first app was due November 1st. I figured that I’d already written the [copious] play and screenplay samples and could write a personal statement in my sleep, right? Wrong. I didn’t realize that this process would require so much of me. Not only were the apps more involved than anticipated (@Common App, I miss you, babe), but they also required me to bare my soul in a way that I wasn’t prepared for. I had to be able to tell the world in 500 words who I was and who I wanted to be. I don’t even think I’d even worked that out with God at that moment.

But I did it. And waited. And prayed. And fasted.

Then my acceptances came in and my life started to feel like the season finale of Grown-ish. All three programs had incredible things to offer. Honestly, I would have been happy attending any one of them. But there was one place that just felt…right. It’s the place that God had been showing me in prayer, the place in which my community envisioned me, and the place that I just haven’t been able to get out of my head. It’s the place that both scares and excites me the most. So just so we all know what I’m talking about: next fall, I will begin pursuing my MFA in Dramatic Writing at New York University Tisch School of the Arts…and it just got real…

As I write this, I am in the middle of the national Kennedy Center American College Theatre Festival with a bunch of uber talented MFA and undergrad students. I think I’ll mark this as my first grad school experience. I’ve been learning from masters, watching and listening to truly incredible and (bonus word) diverse plays, and meeting some the dopest theatre artists I’ve ever encountered. Actually, the meeting folks part is what’s surprising me the most. You’ll learn that networking and being social is really, really difficult for me. It’s not that I don’t like people; it’s not that I’m quiet. It’s that I never quite believe that people will genuinely care about what I have to say. I’ve seen God growing me this week. As I share my ideas and sustain conversations with strangers with whom I want to collaborate and champion, I feel like I’m having an out of body experience. I feel like I’m getting a glimpse of what God’s been seeing all along.

I’m so excited to get my hands dirty and to write like a madwoman, only to have my words get ripped to shreds. Then build them back up again, love them, and repeat. Sure, maybe I’m being idealistic. Lord knows grad school isn’t going to be chocolate and roses everyday. But, even for just a short while, I’m excited for the work. I think I owe myself this moment.

I feel infinite. And exhausted. And confused, and excited, and scared, and limitless, and full, and unprepared, and regal, and infantile, and hungry, and bubbly, and humble, and hype, and reverent.

And hopeful…

P.S.

Actually, making playlists is the first thing I do when I have an idea for a play or film. So let’s think of this post as one of those, yeah?

  1. Diddy Bop x Noname
  2. All The Time x Swoope
  3. Lover of My Soul x Jonathan McReynolds
  4. Weight of the World x John Bellion
  5. All The Stars x Kendrick
  6. Follow You x Christon Gray
  7. DNA x Kendrick
  8. I Got You x Chris Howland

 


Micah Ariel Watson is a filmmaker and playwright. After graduating with a degree in Drama and African-American Studies at the University of Virginia, she will be attending NYU as an MFA student in Dramatic Writing. Her work focuses on the ways in which historical and contemporary events mirror one another, often employing poetry and hip-hop to tell Black stories. The only thing that she loves more than art and Black people is Jesus “Real One” Christ. Twitter: @micah_ariel11