I don’t know what to say, to sum up this experience. So, I guess I’ll start at the beginning.
Before we even got in the room together, one of our homework assignments was to write up our bios, summing up our experiences to date. And damn, I was in a group of really cool people. My cohort had already done some amazing things, and I felt like I was behind. I didn’t understand why I had been included with this group of incredible people.
On my first day, when I walked in, one of the first people I encountered was Mary, a Talent Campus alum who had come back for more. One of the first things she said to me was how much she loved my bio. That validation felt so warm and set the tone for the rest of the five days.
But I was still nervous as hell.
Over the course of the week, we were asked to confront the beliefs that had been holding us back, the little voices that say, You’re not good enough, or Who do you think you are to dream this big? Watching my fellow campers face their inner demons with such honesty and courage was incredibly inspiring. Some of them talked about fears that mirrored my own, while others shared truly personal and difficult issues and the strength, they had to overcome them. But seeing them push through reminded me that we’re all fighting something—and that we don’t have to do it alone.
One of the more unique ways we tackled fear was by holding a tarantula while pitching an idea to the room. Now, I have a major phobia of spiders. Spotting even a tiny one in my house I have to swat it immediately. (Don’t tell Emeris, our amazing spider handler). So, there was just no way I was going to do this.
However, I had a choice. I knew how much I wanted feedback on my pitch. I considered wimping out and asking if I could just do my pitch on the side, sans spider. But that’s not really what Talent Campus is about.
So there I was, hands shaking, heart pounding, unable to look this eight-legged nightmare in the eye, and then I did it. I held the damn tarantula. I pitched my idea. And I didn’t die. (I mean, obviously, but still.) Pitching in front of people in itself was something I had been so anxious about. Something about being so vulnerable in front of a room of people who are there for you and want you to succeed was brain chemistry-altering.
If I can hold a tarantula and pitch an idea, I can send an email to that producer who intimidates me. I can submit my work to that scary competition. I can face the fear that’s been holding me back and keep going anyway.
By the time we got to the final exercise—walking on hot coals—I genuinely wasn’t even fazed. Before stepping onto the coals, we were asked to come up with an alter ego name, something bold and fearless. I thought about choosing a name that sounded invincible, but instead, I chose my own: Tilly Fucking Upton.
I wanted to prove to myself that I don’t need to be anyone else to succeed. I don’t need to be more confident, more experienced, or more accomplished than I am right now. I’m enough, just as I am. And let me tell you, yelling “Tilly Fucking Upton” at the top of my lungs felt amazing.
What I didn’t expect was how that choice would ripple out. A couple of others followed my lead and used their real names too. Watching them step onto the coals, owning their identities with the same determination, was one of the most powerful moments of the week.
I went into this experience doubting whether I deserved to be in the room. I left knowing that not only do I deserve to be here, but I have every right to keep going, to keep dreaming, to keep writing.
Now on to applying these lessons to real life. Watch this space…
Screenwriter | Script Reader
