So Far...Potential: How Can You Waste What’s Good and Possible?/What Good Is Belief?/An Appeal

(Self portrait for "Prime", lo­res image drawn fall 2013)

Hi, my name is Chris. Legally "Christopher D. Williams", but I want you to know me by "Christopher William Siderreal." I don't know how to communicate with people anymore, and I know my writing skills are probably worse than they've ever been, but I'm going to try. I'm not sure how to hook you in, but I hope you’ll listen anyway. I've spent almost four years straight working. We're not talking about twenty­four hours a day, but I've had a lot of sixteen hour days. I'm tired of it, I hate it, I'm proud of it; but I can't do this anymore. I have man boobs, my eyes aren't as good as they used to be, I only have fun every other week or month, and my hair used to be thicker; and I’m only twenty­three. I guess I'm a writer. I hope you don't see that as insignificant. I actually wanted to be a scientist (and hippie) for a really long time, and I still love science, but stories have been a constant in my life. Maybe it has something to do with hearing stories in The Bible, or playing with action figures when I was younger. I don't know, but here I am.

I'd say the things I write about...deal with a lot of different things, they feature a lot of different things. That's just how I am, I acknowledge a lot of things, I like a lot of different things, I don't like a lot of different things, I notice a lot of different things, etcetera. I'm a "multi­person". And despite that title, I have no clue who I am these days, because I'm not living a life sincere to me. I’m not doing things “I” would do. I'm struggling to type this now, because I'm sick of typing, but I'll try. I really want you to listen. I’m a bit numb too, so it’s hard for me to gather my emotions. But I’ll try… I've been trying for a long time. I've been trying for a really long time. I've had a lot of things I wanted to do, places I wanted to be, people I wanted to know, but I could never really reach it. I have some things in my life, but what's left is being threatened, which is why I'm typing this I guess. I don't know what it is, but I guess maybe you could say I was just born in the wrong place. I grew up on the south side of Chicago. It's actually a cool place where I grew up. I live southeast, all the way on the edge of the city. It's an old factory area. You still see it in the trains nearby, the cargo ships that cross the river not too far from here, and the beautiful factories that still run miles away. It looks really nice when it's rainy, or cold, or snowy, or dusk, or dawn; just never when the sun is all the way up. I wish I could explore it more, but this is the hood. Now, me being in the hood, don't make so many assumptions. It's just a location. So I can't take walks late at night, or during the day sometimes...I'm not here to give you a story about "urban" life. Just keep reading… "Home" is a very important thing for people. I guess it's that beautiful constant in your life, that thing you know will never fail you, an anchor. But I never really had a home, just a house I lived in. I think I was a good kid. I'm not saying I never said anything mean; but I rejected a beer this grown guy tried to give me when I was nine, I rejected a cigarette my cousin tried to give me at fourteen, I didn't buy my first rated M video game until I was sixteen, and I still don't know much about premarital sex...not to judge. I never mean any harm, or meant any, but some people have the need to antagonize me. My relatives have never supported the way I like to spend my time, they never support the things that keep me alive on the inside. They never come to my defense or anything. I was a good kid, but because I was myself, a lot of people hated me. I liked books, action figures, and video games when I was younger. I really like fiction. I like people too but let's focus on anything that makes me "me". It was fine when I was younger, but as I got older it was the situation where they were trying to get me to go in other directions. They'd shame me for liking sports but not wanting to join teams. They'd shame me for not

wanting a stereotypical black haircut, or doing stereotypical black things, completely ignoring the fact that I'm mixed...and that I don't have to meet any stereotypes. They'd shame me for saying the "sky looks beautiful". They'd shame me for liking different types of clothes. And instead of respecting me, they started hating me. They wanted me to outgrow every core of what made up my ego. They didn’t want me to be me. They don't respect anything about me. It's intense bigotry, over things not even mentioned in The Bible. Part of the problem is that they are racist. They want me to look like Morris Chestnut with hair. They want me to meet all these stereotypes, and they can't see outside of it. They see me being me as a direct form of defiance. They take it as disrespect. They're not a mentally sound group. Addicts of different types, they go against logic more than most, and they have a very narrow view of anything. They've always given me a hard time over things that wouldn’t bother a lot of people. Then there are the things they've done to me. I won't get into details because I don't want to spoil one of my stories; but they've said things to me that you just don't say to your child or grandchild, and there was blood and impact with objects. All over me being me. My extended group of relatives are bad in their own ways, and I never really made any true best friends. I had people I hung out with on the weekends, but we were just there to kill each other's boredom. I've never had to worry about going over the minutes on my phone. So it can be said that I’ve spent the majority of my life locked away in this room. Grade school was a waste, we never really progressed, we just went over the same things year after year. I complained to the principal one time and her response was that we were writing a new essay we'd never done before...oh joy. I got okay grades until seventh and eighth grade. But they were just grades, they didn't mean much to me. In high school I dealt with sleep deprivation. I was getting about two to three hours of sleep every night, then I took naps after school. I never had any time or space to have fun or enjoy life, and my grades suffered from that. I made it through high school by passing technically, and my GPA was useless. I went to community college for a while but my financial aid got cut off. Despite the fact that I wanted to be a scientist for the longest time, despite my "wiseness" as a kid, my worth as a "good person" was based on my grades. When I got good grades I was rewarded, when they were bad I was looked at like I was scum. In more recent times it's about how much money I make, or how much I'm projected to make. Not many people have valued me outside of this. Money and education are just tools for life, they're not life. Do I like money? Yes, but it’s more about what I can do with it. So let's backtrack to a parallel story during my school years, what I did with my free time. Preschool to half of third grade were spent between the city and suburbs. It was into third grade that I was in the city full time. I didn't fit in but I wasn't totally ostracized, but that's another story.

In fourth grade I was still set on being a scientist (and hippie), but around this time I also discovered Harry Potter and the movie Spirited Away. I wasn't new to books, movies, TV, etc; but DVD's were new in that time. I had those two movies (The Sorcerer's Stone for Harry Potter) and I pretty much went through all the special features. I knew The Simpson's was made by some guy named "Matt", I knew Clifford was written by some guy, but these DVDs were the first time I actually saw this type of stuff being done. I thought that would be amazing to do too. Originally I wanted to do comics. Then it changed to books. In high school I didn't have time to read (ironic right?) so I only really had time to watch whatever I bought on DVD and Blu­Ray when I got my first (and best) job. But during that time in high school I got really lost. No one ever asked me what I wanted for my life, it was about "have you been looking at colleges?" Screw me right? When I finally did get to community college I was depressed. I went to 7­Eleven every day I went there. I started gaining a bit of weight. It was just...I wasn't there for any reason. "A degree" but...for what? I wasn't excited about that. I was on an empty walk you know? My grades sucked because of this. My relatives had convinced me in high school that having any type of fun in the house was inappropriate, but I decided to do an experiment. I took a semester off… In this time I got back into the groove of watching movies, TV shows, reading, and all that. During this time I also saw the movie Super 8. Super 8 is a movie about a bunch of kids making a summer movie, at the same time there's a train crash, and maybe an alien. It was directed by J.J. Abrams. That movie was one of the few times I had been to the movies alone. It was a warm summer night, film critics were at the screening, and there was something about all this that put a sort of magic in me. The sort of magic that tells you that life is beautiful. It was a feeling I hadn't had in a while, and I got a reminder of what I was wanted to do: tell stories; specifically movies and TV. To me writing isn't about "career". I don't see life as "what's my professional occupation?" It's about "I'm awake, what do I want to do?" I guess if I had more of a social life friends would be the priority, having fun with others, but unfortunately storytelling is more high up on my priorities than I wish it was. When I went back to school I continued this experiment of having fun while going to school and my grades were better than they had been since seventh grade. It was community college but so what? I still failed a class though and my financial aid got cut off. Too bad so sad. That New Year's Eve, weeks later, I made a resolution that's brought me here to you today. I was sitting in the back of a car while one of my relatives went inside a liquor store. It was cold in the car, I was a little depressed. Here I was, this young guy, and for another year I wasn't really being young. That New Year's Eve I was probably a bit desperate to have fun, but I knew it wouldn't happen. So sitting in that car I told myself that for the next year I wouldn't take anymore bull****. I don't

like cursing but I had to use that word that night. And I let that carry me these past few years, even if I forgot. That was 2011. 2012 I started on the break from school that never ended. I was kind of free for the first time in my life and it was like "now what?" My knee jerk reaction was to work on stories, really give it a shot, so I did that. That first year was actually really fun looking back. People gave me bus money and bus cards so I could look for a job, I was free in life, nineteen going on twenty, I was putting all these ideas down, life was infinite. It wasn't pure joy though. Despite all I was doing...I was doing it out of regret. I started developing really bad insomnia that year. I'd been an insomniac since high school, and while I was technically getting a little more sleep, I had longer stretches of staying awake. Part of that was staying up thinking about some of the more scary parts of the God I believe in, but the other part was me looking back on my life so far. I hadn't enjoyed my high school years, or my teen years in general. There were a lot of things I wanted to do but never did. I hadn't been young, and here I was at nineteen depressed over this. 2013 came and it was time for me to actually write. I'd never written before...so that sucked. I had to deal with my own ignorance, plus a termite problem that messed up my ability to sleep big time. It took half a year to finish one script, around sixty pages. I was proud though. I was high on accomplishment that summer...so high, even with the termite problem. Then something happened. I got into an argument with a relative… It seems that when I'm on a high, my relatives hate me the most. Big arguments always happen right before my birthday, always. But this was different. They told me I had to leave. Long story short: someone else yelled at someone else, everyone thought it was me, I was called a racial slur, I said it back, because I don't look a black as I could they were super offended, told me I had to go on the streets. I ended up staying with a relative, someone I used to have at least some respect for. They treated me like I wasn't worth life. Of course during this time I was still working on my writing stuff. I wasn't too distracted, but it's hard to work hard around people who seem to think mediocrity is the way to live life. All my relatives think that that. Work a job not worth your talents and they'll leave you alone, do anything outside of that...and it's outside of their comprehension. They're not a smart group. I don't mean to insult anyone reading this working any type of job, but...no human exists to work and pay bills. I think we can at least agree on that. I started looking for agents and managers (literary), but it's hard to get into "office mode" around people who don't understand all the functions of technology, including my phone. I didn't know what I was doing to be honest, but I still put in the effort. I was sure I'd get responses...but nope.

2014 I was finally back in the house I grew up in, thankful to be around my stuff. My great­grandfather was sick, so he kept the relative (and house owner) I got into that racially fused fight with out of the house. I call 2014 the "lost year". I watched Breaking Bad, Top of The Lake, 1980's Astro Boy; but outside of that I didn't do much. Maybe I was still in shock over almost being homeless. Maybe I was in shock because similar threats were made that year. I don't know. I did spend a lot of that year polishing documents, creating documents, but not much creative happened. I tried another two rounds of looking for an agent or manager, got dissed by a real working director (who's going to direct a certain big budget prequel soon), I did volunteer at The 50th Chicago International Film Festival…but…it was a stale year. I started becoming a real workaholic this year. At some point I developed an addiction to Pepsi to restore my depleted energy (but maybe that stated the year before). I started having even more days where I woke up to work while the sun was still rising, worked into the night, then went to sleep when the sun started rising again. I know right? When did I sleep? It was especially bad because my relatives are racists, and because I'm a "black male" I guess I'm not allowed to sleep when I need to. I have to prove the man wrong right? My relatives didn't know about what I'd been up to since community college and this might be the part where you start to say that I'm creating my own problems but maybe you shouldn't be so cruel. You have to remember that my relatives don't value anything I care about, or anything that makes me happy. The stories I'm working on mean a lot to me; to have these people who've basically abused me, insult that...I'm risking the argument to end them all...and I can't let that happen. One day the owner of this house, my biological grandmother, was once again threatening to kick me out because I wasn't "doing anything with my life", a.k.a. I'm not valuable broke. So I snapped and told the people in the house that I'd been lying for the past two years. That I'd been working on something for the past two years. That that's why I'd been so sleepy. But they didn't take me too seriously. They considered it for a while, but then dismissed it. Telling them that caused more problems I think. 2015...this year has been a mixed bag. It started out okay. I watched Avatar The Last Airbender/The Legend of Korra, did a lot of good work build my personal professional base, and lately I've been the most creative I've been in a long time. There are a bunch of problems though. The main problem is that my will isn't good enough anymore. I have really strong mind over matter, which is how I've been able to do all this work as an insomniac. It's how I've been able to deal with years of being mistreated. But my body isn't compatible with my mind anymore. I mentioned this earlier but: my hair is a little more thin than usual, my eyes struggle to focus at

times, I never have any energy, my body is basically dependent on sugar to get through the day, my metabolism is messed up, I look like absolute crap. It doesn't matter what I intend to do...my body can't work as much as my mind needs it to. My social skills are shot, my world class patience is all out, my relationship with God isn't what it used to be, and I honestly feel like my IQ’s gone down because…I’m not as brilliant as I used to be. Not that that number is everything. Then I finally got a job in about....April. I had one for like two weeks in 2013, but this was the real deal. It was cool at first. My relatives gave me some space, I wasn't broke, I got to get out of the house. Cool. The actual job sucks though. I don't mean to insult anyone, but this place I work at has a hard time accepting that I'm a broke businessman, that I can't give them all this time. I picked part time for a reason. Then...I just don't have any energy to work. I'm always sleepy when I go in. But good things have come from this job. I've been able to relax a little. Not get sleep, but like...go to the movies or buy new Blu­Ray's. I've also been able to invest in this writing career. I paid for some really bad reviews on the Hollywood Black List (which gave me insight on the "two types" in Hollywood), I bought a new dry erase board, an office chair so I can stop ruining my back when I work, a lap desk, an expensive mug, a cool Star Wars book bag to carry my old man career related papers. I've gotten so much work done lately, and made so much progress on my stories. Things had been looking up…then…

(Freshman art project based on the idea of an "agent of change", painted sometime between fall 2006 and spring 2007. Unlike the other submitted projects, the agent was powerless. The agent pictured is also the artist who painted it.)

A few weeks ago my great­grandfather passed away, the same "sick father" keeping out the relative and house owner who kicked me out two years ago. Everything seemed okay, but see…this house is overfilled… My sibling is too old now to sleep with his mother anymore. Me...well...I guess I'm losing my room. Me having a job just isn't good enough anymore, they're in "screw him" mode. There was mention of my stuff being put in the attic. Good right? No! I work too hard and too much to not have any fun. Plus I have to spend the money I finally started saving to buy something to store my decade plus of action figures, video games, books, comics, DVDs, Blu­Rays, and CDs Plus where are my clothes going to go? How am I going to function with all my stuff in boxes? Then remember how I'm an insomniac? No one's offered any solution to where I'll sleep. Imagine that...an insomniac without a good place to sleep. I'm already starting to have health problems. Oh, and I didn't mention that my doctor told me that I had high blood pressure at seventeen. So...it's scary thinking what might happen if I even go a few days without at least some sleep. Imagine that: finally falling asleep at 7 am and being woken up at 9 am and being told I can't fall asleep again until later. Not only am I at high risk for multiple forms of instant death, there is no way I can work on my writing...or a job...or anything like that. (Update: I might be able to sleep in a barely finished room in the attic, better than what Harry Potter had, but it's the same concept. Even if I have a roof over my head, it's not one that wants to be there for me. There's no real stability. I'm one argument away from being kicked out always). (Another update: I'm still not in the attic which sucks because I need to get away from these termites. I sound a little fickle I know.) Them adding to that insomnia: these termites. I mentioned this before. I'm too scared to get into detail, but...I'm a collector of many things. My stuff seems fine so far but I don't want anything to happen. I finally started saving money but it might have to go to fixing this problem. They've left me to deal with this alone. Things had seemed okay but I've started to find scary damage outside the baseboards and the area around the window. Then recently I caught some in the act eating through a shoebox...which is keeping me up for sure. That's the most I can say without having a breakdown. My relatives literally and figuratively try to deter me from my path. It's uncanny. They always seem to take me being active as a sign to ask (force) me to do a million tasks for them. They never respect the idea that when I'm moving around and typing away that I'm actively currently doing something now. I see this happen all the time, I'm walking to someplace very specific, and they’ll ask me to do something. Like…can I help me first…or at all? They won't care about me being tired to dangerous levels, or the stress I'm under. They'll dismiss it, try to use me on days I'm not clocking in and out, and get angry when I can't or won't do what they want me to do after. They'll wake me up after only four hours of sleep as

punishment because I don't have any extra energy to help them be lazy. I also really don't have any energy to make money. Then recently the owner of the house said I need to increase my work hours, and that I should try to get back into school. You can't work two full time jobs (and only getting paid for one) and go to school. There are only twenty­four hours in a day, and I struggle with the part­time employment I have now (which is now trying to get me to quit by cutting my hours...) I need to stop working. I can barely function as a person, I look like crap, and I'm going a little crazy. I feel it a little more every month. Like lately I'm finding myself constantly running into things and slurring my words like my mouth is just too tired to talk. My eyes had a really hard time dealing with the colors in Star Wars Rebels. My brain doesn't even really try to deal with anything complex these days. When people ask me to help them figure something out I'm really quick to say "I don't know". This other interesting thing keeps happening where I think a thought, and immediately after I think it...I forget it. I need to stop working. It's a want, but it's a legitimate need. But in order to stop working I need to keep working; and the more I work the less I'm able to, and the less I'm able to function. It's a really crappy situation but that's the deal. And I really don’t know what’ll happen at this point… I also haven't mentioned that I'm also fighting an uphill battle with the TV shows and movies I want to make. I don't have an agent or manager, or any connections in the industry. I'm younger than a lot of working screenwriters too. Plus I need one of my shows green lit in the next few months or all hope is lost; based on the story…it has to happen like…“now”. The film industry isn't as kind to writers, which is something I don't understand. Most writers actually getting paid are about thirty and up, balding or bald. It's a really closed world, you're pretty much at the mercy of those already working, and it's really difficult to get in their favor. Generally, if they're not coming to you, you're screwed. It seems like a stupid statement but you really have to bait them in. There's one thing I've been looking at...something that kills me. I go on Wikipedia a lot to look up all kinds of things. One thing I look up are actors, writers, directors, etc. I don't take this next statement with defeat either, but so many people who've "made it" have had so many advantages. They could afford college, their family could actually afford to move their whole life to an "entertainment" hotspot, they had money to produce short films with good quality, they had money period, they had a support system of any kind, their parent/sibling/cousin/relative was already in the industry. Then I look at me and it's like...f*ck! I don't feel any lower than these people either, I know what I have to bring. It just gives me this scary thought: what if there are beautiful stories that never got told because a person just wasn't given a chance? Beauty of any kind because they tried but failed? What if not all good things find a way?

I'm not as enthusiastic as I used to be. I hate this industry to be honest. This whole "world of the screen" isn't as beautiful as it used to be. I'm bitter. I'm jealous and pissed at all the people I wanted to work with. All the actors who weren't in a place to reject any offer I could've given them three and a half years ago are really in a place to reject me...even if I made it. They've all done great things and are going great places, and I'm here typing this. On top of it all, they actually got to live a life as they "moved up. I feel betrayed. It might sound like an exaggeration, but in a lot a lot of ways I've sacrificed actual years of youth to get here, and that makes me depressed. I'm less as a person than I was when I started. My stories are more, but definitely at a loss to me. I'm out of spirit, energy, and I haven't had much fun along the journey. I'm not sure how bad this damage is, but I feel it. I know I've destroyed myself along the way. I don't know what it feels like to be okay anymore. To top it all off: I'm also not from the film school crowd. I feel that they have some advantages. My situation is really messed up too. I feel that if I went to film school I'd be healthier as a person. At the same time: if I'd had gone to film school, I wouldn't have any of the work I got done in the past three and a half years. So I guess I choose my work, but there's a big "but" after that. All of my work is independent, then to make things worse, most of it is unfinished, and all of it is unproduced. When I show my work, it doesn't matter how genius it might be; I'm seen as a random. I'm never taken seriously by anybody. That hurts too; knowing how hard you work, and seeing that it doesn't matter to anybody. And here I am with only months to make things happen. The show I need to make was supposed to be shot this summer after it was supposed to be shot last summer. I have to act in it but I haven't taken one acting class, and my brain is fried (my brain has to work to memorize lines...which I've never done before). I have all these sets that need to be built, casting that needs to happen, then there are probably a bunch of processes that need to happen. Then every network has a "season" so what if I miss the mark? What if someone's interested but tells me I have to wait another year to put it into production (this would instantly kill the show)? So I have to make the impossible possible. It is impossible, things like this just don't happen...they don't. But just because good things don't happen, it doesn't mean you can't make it happen. Here’s where I find my little glimmer of hope…………………. Even though a lot of my life has been wasted, the potential has always been there. With me being happy, to do great things, etcetera. Maybe it never really happened, but it could've...I know this. The stories I want to tell...most of them aren't finished...but I look at what I have...and I see what it could...will be. I'm not saying I'm a genius but...I think it would be a real shame if these stories were never told. I say that as a fan. I say that from the excitement these stories gave me before I numbed myself trying to get them produced. I think they're gems. It's not about my ego...it's about me as that fan...it's about that "magic" feeling. I think, even if someone else

stole my work, these stories are still so special. If I didn't see that potential I might've given up a while ago. The same can be said about my own life. My life has been pretty miserable so far. I've lost a lot of peace here on Earth and even when it comes to the world beyond. I'm not as young as I want to be, but I am twenty­three. So I've spent my youth unsatisfied...so I've spent my twenties so far a tired workaholic. I can still maybe enjoy whatever drops of youth are left. Even if just for a while, maybe I can feel young...the potential is still there. So I can’t give up on that… I keep asking myself "what good is belief?" and I don't know. I want things to work out but there're no guarantees. I hate that. I know things should work out, but whether or not they will....I wish I had a guarantee. But this potential shouldn't be wasted, which is why I face what seems to be impossible. But I don't know what happens now. I know I'm not strong these days, so I’m looking to outreach. My collection of things is being threatened these days, kind of like my life; the things that mean the most to me. When it comes to my collection of things, I always say "I always get what I want." which has been pretty true so far. Most of the stuff I own...I worked for...like I'm working now. I wish I could get more things for free, but no...I have to sweat. It's great to earn things, but sometimes your efforts aren't enough. It's not saying you're incapable, but sometimes your pay falls short. Some things in my collection...I've had to ask for...because maybe there was no other way. Now that I'm the position I'm in now, I think I need to apply that idea now. This isn't about giving up, or not trying, it's about finding a way. I've done a lot on my own and seen what can come from that...but now I think it's time to ask...maybe even beg...not because I haven't tried, but because despite my efforts I'm falling a little short. I could use some people to pitch in.

(Title of "Prime, lo­res image drawn sometime in 2014) I've kept my main work, "Project P" under wraps until now. Part of it being not wanting any ideas stolen, especially the title and not accidentally inspiring anyone. The other part being not wanting spoilers. But at least part of the title is "Prime". It's not the only thing I've worked on, but it's been my main focus from day one. It's the main reason I'm here. What can I say about Prime without ruining almost four year of work?

Prime is really special to me. It fits the description of a "drama", but it's not bound by the "rules" of one. It's more of a space to tell stories, which makes so many things possible on this show. Prime is set in the real world, not a made for TV world. This might sound boring to some but I want you to think about something: everyone you love is in this world, all the things that keep your spiritual and literal heart beating. Prime is also a show with real people. It's full of the people you love and adore. The good things have power on this show, much like the good things have power in the real world. Prime handles conflict a little differently. The world is made of many things, and that's the most I can say. Prime isn't based on some shallow made­for­TV world, it takes place on Earth prime, and there's truth and heart that come with that. I want to get into plot but not inspiring people would be hard if I did that. What I will say is that I made this when I was nineteen. There's an air of youth to this show...but it's unlike anything I've ever seen before on TV. Beyond the idea of breaking ground, it makes me happy to look to the lives of these characters. They're a really amazing group. Each one of their lives is their own, and the time this story takes place is its own; this show will always be itself...an individual...like we all are. It starts out as a mini­series, a prequel to the main thing. That idea is exciting...I think. The nature of this show is maybe to do whatever needs to be done, and it's all sincere. There're whole plans for this show. I don't have every moment "mapped out" and I don't want to have that, but I see what's contained in the show and I see so much potential. Wasting this would be terrible. I say that as a fan. It's really beautiful. This show isn't about creating "content" or "a product", it's about telling really amazing stories over time. There's heart in this, love; and I think that says a lot about it. I think Prime could be something special. This isn't about my ego, it's about the feeling I got when the idea first came to me. It was the best thing in the world. It has the most simple premise in the world; and from that I've created an almost 100 page series bible, however many pages of profiles and notes, and a great start to this story. This show has to be given a shot.

("Cross" logo, lo­res image drawn sometime in 2014) I'm not claiming to know everything, if that's a real idea. I'm not "in the film industry". I know I don't know everything. I know I have a lot to learn. Even with all that being true, it doesn't mean I know nothing, and that shouldn't be ignored. My scripts aren't perfect on a technical level, but they're not unreadable. I don't know how good/well my formal English is, I know I struggle with colons and semicolons...I know. But then I've been thinking...what if I take what I know, and combine it with someone who knows way more than me? Some people might be laughing at me right now. Like "you can't get a piggyback ride." Well...not to sound like a quitter, but I kind of need one. I don't need to take full credit for finishing the race, just as long as I get to the finish line. In real world terms, I don't need to be anyone's boss or the guy at the top, I just need this show made. I'm not saying I'm trying to sell Prime and leave it be, but I'm willing to let other people take some ownership of it as well. There's no time to recover, or catch up on sleep. There's no time to make the rest of the seven or eight things I'm working on presentable, or enter any competitions, or grow as a storyteller. I need Prime to happen as soon as "now" can be. Not just because it's the only thing presentable, but because it was always meant to be the thing to start this all off. I made this show when I was nineteen, and it's taken so much longer than I wanted it to get to this point. But it's tied to youth, it's imperative that I tell its first story and all the rest for me to enjoy the rest of my youth. I can't lose that opportunity. It's a very personal thing. Prime is the key to all of this, my vaguely described beauty. I realize that maybe it's a stupid thing to do in this industry, but I needed to make this show to move on in Life. I have fallen a little short, and that's okay. I've kicked butt so far, but I can't run up this hill alone anymore. The race can be finished though, but I know I need help, and I'm honestly in desperate need of it. I don't want to hear "stop making up excuses", because I haven't this

whole time. I've done so many things alone and I've fallen short, I'm okay with learning a lesson here: that it's okay to ask for help. Maybe if I would've asked for help I could've gotten out of a lot of bad situations in life, but I did it alone and nothing changed. I've been strong my whole life, and I think maybe it's time to be a little weak. I can't fail this time; this is life and death. So why would other people want to be a part of "Prime"? I really don't want to give you what's in the zeitgeist. Prime does include a bunch of "solutions" to the problems people talk about in a lot of these trendy articles about television. Not to break anyone's heart but those things don't exist as a "solution" to anything. We have to go deeper and not be so shallow. I'm not going to appeal to anyone there. I also don't want to appeal to you on how this show is different from other shows or how it gets things "right". I don't care about Any stock phrases or ideas. To me, I think the biggest selling point of Prime is its sincerity. It exists outside of the idea of a "product" for consumption. Prime isn't about going off of some binding formula to limit what's possible in it. Prime is a show that is itself, as we all should be. I think a lot of great things are like that. It's all about sincerity. So maybe I accidently did appeal to you on how different this show is, and mention some stock ideas, but I think: if you really love TV, movies, storytelling, art...if you love anything actually (I mean anything...actually anything)...if you feel anything (I mean anything...actually anything)...if you want to feel anything (I mean anything...actually anything)...if you live in this world...this show is for you. It's not so much about standing out, it's about having a sincere experience...that's what I think you'll get...that's what I think you have a shot at. (I want everything I work on to be like that). I need a team. I can keep going alone, but my legs will fail me. I need someone else to run alongside me, and help me finish what I started. I need someone in a better position than me to care about the work I've been doing for almost four years. I need someone to be strong where I'm weak: a writer already in the industry, a director already in the industry, a producer already in the industry, a network head willing to pair up my work with someone they trust. Heck, I’ll let a billionaire (or millionaire) pay for me to live somewhere until I finish all this. The goal is to just not fail. And that's just a need. I can hope what I’m typing now gets published; I can hope someone will listen, I can hope someone will follow through; but it's just a hope. I hope it happens. I guess this thing that I'm writing right now, that you're reading, it serves two purposes. One is that this is one attempt to attract the help I need here. Part of me is typing this hoping the right person is even slightly interested in talking to me. This article/letter also shows something else...that I'm not giving up. I want to show people that.

(Bold "Cross" logo; logo, lo­res image drawn recently in 2015) Now why haven't I given up? Despite all the stress and such, why haven't I thrown in the towel...despite the odds? I think that's what I want you to take away from this. Yes, I want something from all this, but I want to leave you with some thoughts on "belief". I believe in everything I have to offer, and I still have belief that my life can be something. And I guess I'm forgetting what belief is, and I guess it comes in different levels; from a guess to certainty. I believe in my work and my life, but I think I'm struggling with the idea of believing that all my efforts will pay off. But I think, if I didn't believe, I wouldn't be writing this. I think I'm just sick of believing, I'm at a point where I need to know some things. I'm tired of living only the inside, I need what I believe in to be in front of me. I've been trying for way too long. I can't keep trying to live my whole life...I need to actually be living. I think that's a very valid reason to go crazy with belief. Having life in front of you...what other way is there to live? If this does happen, if I can pull this off, good things will come. I'm not sure how I'll memorize lines sleep deprived and with a fried brain, but I have to try. If I can make it through what seems to be impossible, think of what would come from that. It's what's at the end of this struggle that makes me mad for it. That reward is so much better than a life wasted. Why am I still going? There's too much potential; not only with my stories, but with my life as well. I have to give it a chance, despite the odds. There's no other choice for me. Why die when you can live? I want you to think about that in your own life. Maybe we'll both go far. Written September 12, 2015 3:34 AM (content added 9/15/15 3:06 PM, 9/19/15 2:43 PM, 9/21/15 10:05 AM, 9/24/15 2:09 AM, 9/25/15 2:09 AM, 12/3/15 11:28 AM, 12/10/15 11:02 PM, 12/14/15 8:20 PM

(Christopher Siderreal signature, lo­res image drawn sometime in 2014)

Original Query: Christopher Williams

Chicago, IL, USA

872­222­8854

mizakikimoto8@gmail.com

January 6, 2016

To :

Hi,mynameisChris.I'mwritingtoyoutoinquireaboutpublishing something I've written about belief. It's a letter of sorts.

I’m a storyteller/screenwriter from Chicago. I’ve wanted to do this my whole life, write, but it was only four years ago that I really went for it. It’s been difficult like crazy at times but it’s something I just can’t give up on. While I've done a lot of story work,"art",thebusinesssidehasn'tbeenworkingtoowellwithme, whichiswhyI'mhere.IhaveawholemasterplanabouthowI'mgoing to"makeit",andpartofthatisoutreach...gettingmyvoiceheard. Ithoughtthatgettingsomethingpublishedwouldbegreat,soIwrote what's attached here in this email.

HereItalkaboutmyproblemsinlife,andasawriter.Italkabout a life wasted and efforts I've made to live a better one. I talk about the television show that I need to get intoproduction,andI do admit that I need help to reach my goals. I talk about all the thingsIhavegoingagainstmeinthoseefforts,andwhyIkeepgoing inspiteofallthethingsthatareworkingagainstme.Italkabout the potential of what could happen if I succeed.

Part of this is a direct appeal to the public, which is maybe unappealing in some ways; uninteresting for a public audience. The otherpartisgettingthemtounderstandwhyI'mmakingthisappeal, andthat'sthetakeawayforthereader.Iusemystoryandsituations to give them an idea of not giving up, using ideas I think many people can understand.

A lot of voices are of famous people, known people, or people who have "made it" in general. Journalists are even among those voices, becausethey'reworkingright?Younevergettohearfrompeoplelike me,apersonoutsidelookingin.Youneverhearfromthewidergroup ofpeopleintheworld,justaselectfew.Ifeelthattherearemany readers, the grand big audience, who are in a similar place as me. Maybe it's not career but people have wants regardless, whether they're as close and immediate as a minuteorfarawayasinyears. Maybe it's something like asking out their crush, the usual losing weightoreatingbetter,learningsomethingnew,doingsomethingnew, or changing a mindset. For some people it's easy to reach these things, but for others things get in theirway.Ithinkitwouldbe nice for people to hear from someone in a similar place as themselves.

I was a bit discouraged trying to submit this, it's actually taken monthstowritethisquery,butonthebusdowntownafewweeksagoI saw the Christmas decorations and remembered that the New Year was coming up. It also made me remember that Iactuallystartedonthis wholewritingcareeronaNewYear'sResolutionafewyearsago,and asapromisetomyselfforabetterlife.Ihaven'tgivenupsince.I think this would be a really great pieceforthestartoftheyear, especially since it's the time that a lot of people set their own goals.It'sanideathatworksforyouthepublisher,metheunknown writer, and the readers telling themselves "this will be the year". Now that it’s after the new year maybe this can give the reader a reason to not give up on the things they want...whatevertheymight be.

What I want to give you is about thirteen pages plus images (which are placed in specific places, which can be resized). It's a bit informal but if I wrote it any other way I'm sure my thoughts wouldn't have come out. I'm open to suggestions if any changes are recommended for publication. I hope you'll consider what I have to offer. ­Chris (*_*)