Artist's Mission Statement
If there's a plan, tell me...
As I head out to LA to start on Rodeo, it got me thinking about the twists and paths our creative journey might take. While we like to believe we’re in total control over our body of work—that every artistic endeavor is perfectly planned and reflects our purest passions—sometimes opportunities just fall in our lap, while other times surprise successes (or failures) push us in new, unexpected directions. I didn’t necessarily plan on being a crime writer, but with the successful sale of The Far Empty (a crime story), after A Sharper Dark (a ghost story) failed to get picked up, I found myself writing more border noir crime. That’s the nature of the professional publishing business, and the consequence of branding in this business. Now, don’t get me wrong, I love the Big Bend books, and they were (thematically) stories I wanted to tell and likely would have at some point, but who knows if I would’ve penned them as traditional crime novels? In fact, it was only after I was frustrated with the rollout of my Kentucky-set crime novel Lost River (during COVID) that I decided to return to writing the more thriller/horror adjacent stories I was initially working on.
Yet, because of doors The Far Empty opened for me, I was hired to write a big budget sci-fi feature film, a high-tech original audio thriller, a pilot adaption of one my unsold horror books, a western streaming/TV series (Bass Reeves), and now Rodeo, a more mainstream dramatic streaming/TV series.
All very different projects and genres, some I would’ve never imagined writing, others I could only have dreamed of.
When I was preparing to embrace working in the TV/film industry, I saw some advice about creating an artist’s Mission Statement, an elevator pitch for yourself, and the work you want to do. It was suggested you include those projects you wish you’d written or created, and those you don’t think you ever would’ve made.
Here’s an earlier draft of mine—
Mission Statement:
As a kid, I dreamed big; think John Ford Westerns and panorama shots. Awe-inspiring, imaginary vistas like Deckard’s Los Angeles and Ripley’s LV-246.
Arrakis. Hoth. Middle Earth.
But as a federal agent, I spent 30 years down in the thick of it—up close, personal—facing the cold dread of a hand-to-hand drug deal gone bad, the frisson of a high-speed chase against traffic, and the claustrophobia of a three-day surveillance inside a hot van. The intimacy of a gun in my hand. My novels have often explored the collateral damage after the trigger is pulled; the weight of the badge and gun, and the burdens of our choices…both good and bad.
My angels have black wings and even my heroes are bloody and scarred.
Things I wish I’d written:
Jaws. Close Encounters of the Third Kind. Conan the Barbarian. Alien. Blade Runner. To Live and Die in L.A. Platoon. Die Hard. Goodfellas. Silence of the Lambs. Unforgiven. The Crow. The Matrix. Seven. No Country for Old Men. True Detective. West World.
Things I never could’ve written:
Pretty Woman. Clueless. Home Alone. Paul Blart, Mall Cop. Barbie.
Elevator Pitch: I’m J. Todd Scott, former 30-year federal agent who gave up the badge and gun to write the stories I always wanted to tell.
These lists aren’t meant to be exhaustive, nor suggestive that those things I would’ve worked on vs. those I wouldn’t have are any reflection on their respective quality or worth, just where my sensibilities sit. And I think—overall—most of the projects I have worked on, regardless of genre or medium, have fallen within my broader mission statement. While I don’t believe everything we create reveals something about us—because we can’t always plan for what opportunities we have—I always say that if you want to truly know me, read (or watch) my work.
Most of it, anyway…
Just some thoughts as I finish packing.
Next week I’ll have my first missive from Los Angeles.
As always, feel free to—