What obstacles can you put between your hero and their goal? That’s the fundamental question that drives most drama, and is one that I’m considering with a smile at the moment having faced and surmounted some ridiculous obstacles today. Thankfully I’m on top of my own dramas, and very much on course for a particular plan of action that’s important to me…and it feels good knowing that I’m going to get what I want having had to fight for it.

The fact that my own Hero’s Journey in this context involves credit cards, PayPal, phone calls to international call centres ten minutes before they close and putting a cheque in the post is neither here nor there: what matters is the sense of victory over forces that could have defeated me. The context is monetary (though the goal is more laudatory); the process is mythic.

Interesting, how we sometimes stray into archetypal episodes in the course of our own lives. Job interviews, dates, encounters with doctors; all can catapult us into a world where the stakes are suddenly high, and we get to be hero, if only on the minor stage of our own life, and possibly be perceived as such by those who see and understand what we’re going through. That’s the option anyway: the alternative is to slink away, mumbling about not really wanting the opportunity anyway, and adding another layer of bitterness to the carapace that keeps the world at bay.

Which brings us to the difference between writers and actors, in a funny kind of way. At the pitching event I went to at De Montfort University and wrote about the other day, the writers were clearly identifiable for their plumage. All together as we were, I couldn’t help noticing that we occupied maybe 30 degrees of the colour wheel’s 360. Specifically, the part that went from muddy brown to khaki green. And believe me, it’s not because any of us were making fashion statements. Far from it.

Contrast with some of the actors I’ve worked with, who are gaudy by comparison: and why not, in a world where they need to stand out as individuals to get parts? I’ve written about this before, but it’s an example that bears repeating: I once spent a weekend working with writers and actors. One day I lunched with the former, the second with the latter. The differences were fascinating: the writers brought their sandwiches and apples along, and munched them in relative silence. The actors flourished salmon rissoles and home made guacamole and chunks of farmhouse cheese, sharing it all between them.

Some people hear that story and feel sorry for the writers, or wince at the behaviour of the actors. It’s a good test of whether you’re more of an introvert or an extravert, perhaps. But I think it goes deeper than that. Many writers want their work to speak for them, and certainly don’t want to have much to do with speaking on its behalf – hence the difficulty some writers have with pitching, which they see as being beneath them. By contrast, actors are used to having to pitch themselves, every time they do an audition. A writer’s rejection comes in the form of a standard letter, more often than not: easy to read and digest alone, without anyone to share its impact. An actor is typically turned down there and then, after they’ve done their piece, and deals with it in the full glare of the activity around the audition.

My own conclusion about all this is that a good professional attitude requires the ability to embrace either end of the spectrum. Writers need to be able to present themselves and their wares in the best light to the people they interact with. Actors could benefit from time to reflect on rejection and learn from it, rather than that process itself becoming a performance.

There’s something to be said here too about the necessary mix of association into and dissociation from different aspects of our lives, and how learning to do both in ways that work for us can make any part of who we are and what we’ve done into a resource for the stories we tell, the performances we give. But that’s something for another more ruminative piece, perhaps when I get back from a couple of days during which I may well not have access to a computer. Back at the weekend, for sure.