#cuddlebear

I met him twice this year. 

If you knew me you knew I’ve never been lucky… Quite the opposite, to be honest. So when he was announced at my very first con, three years ago, it felt like a joke. Life is not that kind to me, there must have been a trick somewhere. I was waiting for the other shoe to drop… Until it didn’t. It didn’t the first time, nor the second, nor the third, and guess what? Not even the fourth.

Last January, the day before the con, I got my grades for the first semester of my MA. I wasn’t happy. I wasn’t satisfied with the grade I had received for the most important course. For a moment there I started to question my abilities, I started to question my life choices for love’s sake! How the hell was I supposed to become a writer if people did not like my fiction?

The con started. Tyler arrived and he was thrown on the stage for his first panel. Someone asked him something, I can’t really remember. But I do remember his words like it was two minutes ago.

“If you wanna tell a story, don’t change it as you think other people would like it. Tell it and don’t be apologetic about it.”

I was… Speechless. How was he to know? Was that a simple coincidence? When the time for the meeting room came, I had my question ready. It always takes me a while to muster up my courage and so I ended up being the last one. After laughing about food and Bohen and other things, here comes the serious question. “So… First of all, I wanna thank you for what you said yesterday… About telling our own stories and not being apologetic about them.” He smiled at me and said, “Yeah I remember, and I truly believe that.” I smiled back – Hoechlin Effect, he’s highly contagious! – and went on, “Yeah, well, thank you, it means a lot to me. I’m studying creative writing and it touched me deeply.” “Oh wow, that’s amazing!” I averted my eyes, as I usually do after a compliment, then I cleared my throat and asked my question. He listened to me carefully, like he always does. He answered me with honesty as per usual, then let the translator do her job (for the others). But right when she was finishing, he broke in. He literally put a hand open-palmed in front of her and interrupted her speech, looked me in the eye and started,

“But going back to your writing, I want to add something. There will always be people in this environment that will read your stories and tell you ‘mm yeah, it’s good’ and not be convinced by it. You will meet plenty of them. You will face failure, it’s inevitable. But you keep going, keep trying, don’t give up. Don’t change it for them. Personally, when I read scripts I’m always looking for that story that’s different, that has something more. So stay yourself and keep creating something different until you find someone who’s searching for originality. Someone that reading your work says 'Oh shit! This is what I was looking for!’”

This time, I couldn’t look away as he talked. I listened to every word, trying to commit everything to memory, but his eyes were so distracting. I managed to hold it until I was back in my room. Then I cried for endless minutes.

When I met him again in July, he remembered. This time no tears were shed, though. Only laughs, when I asked him to do this pose. We had so much fun that I even forgave him not knowing about the red string of Fate… Sort of.