Screenwriter’s Almanac: Apple's The Studio, and The Dream That Doesn’t Dream of You

On Hollywood heartbreak, our love for movies, and why we keep writing anyway

May 24, 2025

I chose the wrong industry to work in. At least that’s what I sometimes think. Why do I think this? Have you ever done the work on yourself? And by “work”, I mean the deeper, soul-searching, personal growth work that has you eventually scrolling Instagram soaking in all of the Mel Robbins and Jay Setty inspirational hard truth shit you can find…and yet still feeling like growth is needed. In my 20 year-career as a writer, consultant, executive, and coach, I’ve delved into the process of looking at my flaws (and that’s putting it lightly). It’s kind of impossible not to. I live and work within the realm of story development and character arcs. I’m bombarded every day with the evolution of a flawed character. It’s impossible to ignore it, and really, I don’t want to ignore it.

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What I know about myself, just like we need to know about the characters we write, is that two of my foundational flaws or weaknesses consist of approval-seeking and questioning my worthiness. To say I’ve come a long way in those 20 years would be an incredible understatement, but those flaws are still there. They still whisper into my ear, sometimes randomly and unconsciously, making themselves known all too often.

And yet I chose to work in an industry where judgement and critique can define certain versions of success. I chose to work in an industry that requires a Tom Cruise level of bravery to even step into a pitch meeting (and we all know how many Tom Cruises there are in the world). So…yeah. Apparently I’m a glutton for punishment. Why do I continue to do this? Why do any of us continue to do this? That’s what I want to talk about in today’s Almanac, and to use Apple’s The Studio as an example of what might actually be going on in the deeper chasms of our hearts and souls.

For those of us who have dedicated our lives to Hollywood, there comes a moment while watching The Studio - this chaos-laced satire about Hollywood egos, studio executives, and movie making - when you realize the show isn’t really a parody. It’s a love letter. A warped, crazy chaotic, teeth-gritting, and extremely uncomfortable love letter. And if you’ve spent any real time trying to write, pitch, sell, or survive in this business, it doesn’t feel like fiction. It feels like biography.

It’s hilarious. It’s painful. It’s absurd. It’s difficult to watch, but…

It’s all of us.

Because behind the comedy and dysfunction is a truth every screenwriter and creative knows in their bones: we love this business, even when it doesn’t love us back. Maybe especially then. From a personal growth standpoint…that’s fucked up.

The Industry as an Impossible Romance

Hollywood is the only relationship most of us have ever been in where we are expected to give everything; our time, our imagination, our complete devotion, tears, sweat, hope, sanity…knowing full well there’s a good chance it may never return the favor. You write. You rewrite. You pitch. You polish. You go to parties, network, kiss the asses of people you know deep down are pieces of shit. And you get ghosted. Rejected. Or somehow worse, you’re told it was great, you’re great, it’s just about everything we could want, but you’re just not right.

And yet… we keep showing up.

Because deep down, screenwriting, the arts, our creative genius and our relationship to this industry isn’t transactional. It’s devotional. It’s not about being seen, it’s about saying something. It’s about creating a character, a line of dialogue, a moment of meaning that lives beyond us, even if it never reaches a stage or a screen. It’s that feeling we have when we give birth to an idea and see it come to full fruition. I created that from nothing. It’s me…all of me.

And that’s what makes The Studio hurt so good. The characters might be over-the-top, bat-shit crazy, the situations unfolding like one long season of Meet The Parents, but the core of it all is achingly real. Everyone in that show is fighting over power and perception, yes. But beneath the posturing, fake smiles, forced friendships, is something raw, real, and unavoidable: they love movies. They love the myth, the magic, the miracle of a story making it through the machine. They love what movies can do to people in every wonderful way possible.

We Love This Too Much to Quit

There’s something excruciating about loving something that may never give back what you hope. The pain of an unbalanced relationship can eat away at us bit by bit. It’s especially awful when the love is pure. When it has nothing to do with fame or money or being admired at dinner parties. It isn’t infatuation or lust or just some created story in your head. It’s unconditional.

We love movies because of what they can do - to us, for us, for others, even for no one at all. We love how they hold space for grief, joy, transformation, laughter, message, protest, and just simply fun. And we love writing them because it makes us feel like we’re part of something that still matters, even when the system itself feels indifferent. While we may not consciously consider it…we feel we can create a legacy of our own within the annals of a history and among past geniuses who are so well known, so revered, so loved, that to even breathe the same air as them would be a gift.

So what do we do when it hurts?

What do we do when the job doesn’t come, or the note stings, or you’re told you’re not good enough? What do we do when Hollywood doesn’t love us back?

We keep writing anyway. We keep loving anyway.

Because we didn’t come here for what Hollywood could give us.

We came here because there’s something inside of us that needs to be written, and we want so badly to give it.

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Keep Loving Anyway

The Studio is loud. It’s messy. It’s satire with bruises, blood, vomit, far too many drugs, and utter ridiculousness. But under it all, it’s a confession: we’re in love with something unstable, unpredictable, and often unfair.

And somehow, we’re still not leaving. We put up with it. We grind. We push and hope. We have our Say Anything moment of holding a boombox outside of Hollywood’s window knowing that our love is better than anyone else’s love…but also knowing the window may never open.

So let this be your reminder today. Don’t ignore the pain. Let your love be bigger than your frustration. Don’t be afraid to settle so deeply within the hope that naivete and blissful ignorance become common feelings. Let the work itself be the reward. Let the page be where you come back to yourself. Enjoy the process and state of simply being in love.

In the end, Hollywood and “the movies” may never love you the way you love it.

But that’s OK. Just simply knowing that you have the power and capacity to love is enough to fuel your creative engine and…yep…to keep you writing, striving, hoping, and living in a state of unconditional love.

If that’s all that comes of this crazy endeavor, I would say you’ve found success.

Though it would be nice if Hollywood would answer the phone sometimes.