Whenever I begin working on a script, my mind instantly goes into daydreams about the eventual theatrical trailer for the completed film. I imagine all of its emotional peaks and valleys. I feel that trailer, even to the point of laughter or tears. It is a euphoric moment that always leads to a kind of sorrow born of impatience. "I wish that trailer was coming out now. If only people could see what I have in my head. If only this idea could go straight from my heart to the movie theaters."
When you begin a script, what daydream do you have about it? Is it a premiere at a major festival? Is it acting in the film you wrote? Is it selling your script to a studio or attaching a famous actor? Is it your Oscar speech?
What is your specific daydream?
How emotional do you get about it?
What sorrow born of impatience follows?
Consider that this sorrow born of impatience is nothing more than the Unknown of your project, and the daydream is the Known.
We feel sorrow because, once we dream the dream -- know the Known -- we fear the if, when, and how -- the Unknown. "I know I want to see this trailer come out, but I don't know how to write this story. I don't know how I'll get it made. I don't know who will want to make it with me. I don't know that I'm even entirely sure what this story is about."
When we look objectively at these Unknowns, they become Known Unknowns. And here's the kicker -- the more curious we are about them, the more we know them. If you're looking for the best and fastest pathway to the Known, focus squarely on the Unknown. Be patient with yourself as you peel the proverbial onion of your dreams. Keep venturing into the question of How? In time, that which you believed you didn't know will become a skill, and the conquering such will become a distant memory. In time, all Unknowns will become Known.