Tuesday, November 24, 2015

Thankful for "The Process"





This video was shot back in my senior year at Georgia College. I'm sharing it this week because it reminds me of what I was thankful for at the time: a professor/academic advisor who was willing to let me carry a segment with no on-camera track record and peers who helped make it possible when the bit could've been quickly shot down.

Those individuals were a big help on this project and would be throughout my college career, but I'm most thankful for something I learned in the process that led to what you see in the video. It meant a lot to me in college and still carries weight today- the value of "The Process" in achieving a goal.


My first time on camera was a miserable failure. The initial audition I did for GCTV News, the same show that aired Microwave Chef, took place during my sophomore year. I wasn't excited about it initially. My heart was in campus radio. Television was as a medium was too restrictive and best served as a safe haven for those too robotic or corny to show real personality. However, my girlfriend at the time shattered those notions (I'm mature enough now to admit that her study-first, fun later mentality was exactly what I'd needed out of high school). She got me to thinking that auditioning for the student-run news show was actually a good idea. We rode to the top of Atkinson Hall for our date with quasi-fame.

She was right. Well, partially. She nailed the audition and notched a lead anchor role, but I wasn't as fortunate. Not an anchor, not the sports guy, not even a Field Reporter position given to students whose auditions weren't the best of the bunch but demonstrated competence. Nope- I wasn't chosen for any on-air position, utterly denied of my chance at getting on the show.

I agreed to work behind the scenes. My desire to remain a good student and supportive boyfriend outweighed the shade I felt was thrown my way.

I was angry for a few weeks. One of my early assignments was to help new reporters to shoot a pre-taped video package. "The irony.", I thought to myself. "I'm out making other people look good for a job that I want." It didn't help that the reporter assigned to me seemed more interested in wearing the shortest possible skirt deemed appropriate by the FCC for our show to keep a TV-G rating. The late August outdoor shoot left me feeling uncomfortable physically and mentally, with only the faint hope of a better season on the horizon to keep me going.

After helping with more field shoots and operating a camera during our live to tape broadcast, my disdain started to wear off. I signed up for the official News Casting class and settled into a role as one of the GCTV's segment producers. The following semester, about a year after my infamous audition, I was chosen to lead the broadcast as the show's Technical Director. I'd reached the top of the ladder, but only because the one I really wanted to climb was snatched from underneath my feet before I learned how to climb.

I could've easily found contentment with the title of Director. It shared co-billing for most prestigious role on the show with the lead Producer (a gig my now ex-girlfriend had) and meant that I'd earned the trust of my professor. But even at this point, I'd never stopped wanting to get on camera. In the time following my bad audition, I spent semester after semester at the radio station honing my on-air presence. My voice and style were unique and, as I eventually realized, good. I was no longer trying to fit what I thought an on-air talent was supposed to behave or sound like. My TV chances might have been blown, but I was determined to be heard one way or another. Radio gave me that opportunity, and showed me that I had the chops to own the mic.

My confidence began to grow from other areas too, particularly my job as a Resident Assistant. Part of the job was to come up with social and educational programs for students to attend in the friendly confines of their dorm building. Tired of pizza parties and personal safety lectures, I decided to host a program that GC Housing had never seen. On the heels of a microwave related false fire alarm, my idea was to present a live cooking show for students in my Parkhurst Hall. They were invited to watch me prepare a full meal using only a microwave. I turned it into a real production- music, stage hands (again, I had great friends) and video cut-ins were all a part of the show. The program was a success, but I regretted not having the chance to do it again in front a new audience.

Back in class, my attitude was shifting. I discovered that directing live television was not my calling. I got frustrated when segments ran too long (or didn't run long enough) and hated managing an entire crew of people with varying job responsibilities and levels of experience. I reached my breaking point when I had a meltdown right before a show (Remember my ex-girlfriend the lead producer? Our professional relationship wasn't any better.) and had to leave the room. I knew that my true gift area was on the other side of the camera.

Fast forward: the semester was winding down and our special Thanksgiving episode needed a holiday-themed segment. That's when the pitch was made: I'd take a break from directing to host a brief cooking segment. Long after my first failure, I'd finally reached my goal. Though the opportunity felt random, I've come to realize it wasn't. A series of intentional practices led to the chance I wasn't sure would ever happen.

The following semester, my final at GC, the flood gates opened. I auditioned for GCTV again and found success. I was chosen not as an anchor, sports guy or Field Reporter, but as the lead of my very own segment. The long road to success was complete at the last possible moment.

I'll end the story here, because the details of everything you need to know about The Process are contained in the paragraphs above. I'll piece together how I unknowingly let it help me reach my goal:



I made adjustments.  Microwave Chef was almost completely ad-libbed. I wasn't good at scripting word for word or reading off a teleprompter, things most on-air talent excel in naturally. Instead, I started to write talking points to loosely guide my thoughts from beginning to end, a trick I learned from hours of radio. If what you're doing isn't working, try it a different way.


I stuck around.  This is the hardest part. It requires that you swallow your pride and eat your feelings. I stayed with GCTV even after I wasn't cast, watching as students chosen over me floated in and out without the same passion I had for the field. However, staying around got me in the conversation when an on-air spot opened up. Sometimes just being present is the best thing you can do to get to the next step.

I leveraged other opportunities.  My debut segment was actually the second time I'd done Microwave Chef. Recall the program I set up as an RA? That was the first. When you use what you have to get what you want, you prepare yourself for excelling when opportunities come calling. Though it wasn't for a TV show, the original Microwave Chef gave me the chance to practice in front of an audience, perfecting the segment and improving my stage presence. When the chance to get on camera arrived I was equipped with the prior preparation that usually precedes good performance.

I didn't quit.  This is a general piece of advice that we all intend to follow, but often ignore. Not quitting means staying in the fight when circumstances make tapping out look like the best option. It means ignoring the absence of precedence in the face of possibility. The reward for pushing isn't delivered until after you've taken a risk and fallen on your face. When your age, money and day job tell you what your reality is today, the drive to not give up should tell you what it could turn into tomorrow. Keep moving.


If you're down this holiday season and struggling to find something to be thankful for, remember The Process. Allow the disappointments you face now to set you up for the achievements you'll celebrate later.


Happy Thanksgiving!


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