The doldrums
If you've ever felt becalmed, it might be because you're frigging tired and need to rest.
Ah, the dreaded doldrums: one of the most feared phenomena in sailing history. The term "doldrums" has a hazy origin. It may be related to the Old English dol, meaning "foolish"—a history it shares with our adjective dull. It was coined by sailors during the Age of Discovery as they explored and crossed uncharted oceans in search of new lands and opportunities. It describes an area near the equator that is characterized by an extreme lack of wind, calm waters, oppressive heat and humidity, and often a thick fog or haze hanging over it all.
Becalmed, sailors would call it. Because, literally, the waters were calm to the point of unnatural stillness, without wind or wave or tide or current to propel the ship.
For centuries before engine-based ocean travel, the doldrums were viewed with dread because a ship caught there could be left helplessly drifting for days or even weeks without progress—both terrifying and dangerous for any crew attempting to make passage across long distances (especially on time-sensitive missions). This made them particularly perilous when it came to crossing the Atlantic or making lengthy journeys along major trading routes—so much so that sailors would do whatever they could to avoid becoming trapped in them. From playing music loudly to waving white flags to offering sacrifices, these desperate attempts were the old fashioned version of holding your breath when driving through a tunnel or when those Silicon Valley tech bros talk about effective altruism.
I feel like the last couple of months I’ve been stuck in the doldrums in virtually every aspect of life, most especially, creatively. And life events have made it particularly difficult to extricate myself.
The biggest culprit has been the most logistically challenging and time-consuming move I can remember undertaking in the last decade and a half (I’ve moved 5 times in that time, including three inter-state moves). I have spent the last month and a half preparing to move, then actually doing the move. This wasn’t a simple, straightforward affair. We had a month overlap of renting our old place and renting our new one. We were waiting for the new apartment to be move-in ready, so while that was going on we were packing and prepping and figuring out the logistics. With Emily in school full-time and me working full-time, between us the packing largely fell to Emily, who deserves the hero’s portion for the work she did in getting our old place boxed up.
On the other hand, I was responsible for planning the actual move, including securing movers and reserving vehicles, and I managed the drive to and from our new place in New York, which included a couple of trips there and back (which also required renting cars and driving out of Albany due to the shortage of rental vehicles available for one-way drop-off—and, wow, how bored are you right now?).
Talking about moving is like talking about your dreams. No one cares except for you, and the recounting of events is not as interesting as you think. So, I shall recount no more on that front. Suffice it to say, we’re relieved to be through that onerous process.
That said—I’ve been exhausted. They say even if you sleep in the nicest hotel room in the nicest bed, you’ll still not be as rested as you would be in your own home. Well, a new apartment may as well be a hotel room for the first few days. Needless to say, I’m ready for my body and mind to accept we’re not packing up our stuff again in a few days. Perhaps the doldrums is a chance to rest and reset our patterns. Focus on what we need so we can escape the stillness when we are ready.
Lucid has had seemingly little movement, though behind the scenes there is a subtle breeze in the topsails. I wrote a minor (but really solid) revision in the script. We’re talking with some producers to figure out a co-production arrangement, but you know, getting these meetings set up takes time. We’re polishing our decks and financials to prep for some possible meetings. Again, nothing I can discuss publicly at the moment, and in part that’s why it feels like there’s no movement.
Our Kickstarter for Frigid has also landed in the doldrums. We surpassed $8,000 yesterday, but with 14 days remaining on the all-or-nothing campaign, it’s all water, no land in sight. If you haven’t pledged but want to, now’s your chance to show solidarity without having to worry about your credit card getting charged (if the campaign doesn’t make its goal, no one gets charged). Check out our super professional campaign video below and consider throwing a few coins our way, if you’re financially able and willing. Obviously, if it’s us versus rent, please strongly think about going with us before reluctantly Venmo’ing your landlord. You’ve made the right call.
The WGA strike continues. You can tell reality is starting to set in. This isn’t going to end any time soon. The studios have plenty of muscle and seemingly no intention of avoiding behavior that further enrages the normies.
Summer looms. Time ain’t slowing down.
Still. As I write all this out, it feels less dire. The move is over. We’re now in our new home and slowly unpacking. The logistical challenges are largely past, now it’s just figuring out the new apartment’s quirks and learning our way around this new town. Already I can tell my stress is 50% what it was last week.
Cameron, Zack, and I met on Monday (our first official in-person production meeting!) to talk about pivoting if Frigid doesn’t get its financing. We have plans to continue to produce lower-budget shorts and even trying some experimental stuff that doesn’t require a huge cast and crew. Basically, return to our roots and work on ideas that are doable in a weekend. They’ll be smaller and probably nothing worth making a splash about, but they’ll be fun and they’ll give us more opportunities to work together and continue to hone our craft. They’ll also keep us hungry, and at the same time, we won’t be so committed that we can’t pivot over to Lucid if/when the time comes.
The doldrums are, in part, a location in which you find yourself and over which you have no control. But they are also a state of mind. I’m choosing to look at my circumstances and say whatever state I was in, I am now moving out of it. A new season is here. I’m in a new home, a new town, with new people to meet and with new things to do and try. Good things are happening.
If you’re dealing with the same feelings of being stuck, know you’re not alone, and they won’t last.
Until next week, hang tough and keep sailing.