Yes, I Want to Win

We do ourselves a disservice when we downplay how badly we want something. I know what I’m supposed to say right now that being a finalist is enough, that I’m just honored to be here. And while that’s true, it’s not the whole truth. I want to win.

Two Weeks, Two Festivals, One Writer Holding Her Breath

The Weight of Desire

In a few days I’ll head to Nashville. A week later, Reno. Two scripts that began as quiet ideas are now finalists ready to be heard out loud. On paper, it looks like a dream. And it is. But it’s also more complicated.

Finalist letter!

I have been recognized before. Chosen has been a finalist at the Atlanta Film Festival, the Essence Film Festival, and Film Pittsburgh Shorts. Night Owl has also found its way into Film Pittsburgh Shorts, and both scripts are ranked in the Top 1% on Coverfly. Those honors are beautiful, and I am grateful for them. But too often they stopped at the laurel. There was no funding, no path forward. Just a title.

Night Owl is a Finalist in the Nashville Film Festival Screnwriting Competition.

People remind me that being a finalist is already a win. And I nod because they are right. It is an honor to be seen, to be recognized, to know my words have traveled this far. But I also want to be honest. I want to win.

That longing used to make me uncomfortable. Somewhere along the way, humility got tangled up with pretending you do not want the big thing, the loud thing, the shiny thing. But ambition, when it is rooted in purpose, is not arrogance. It is honesty.

Chosen is a Finalist!

Ambition, Fear, and Faith

Proverbs 16:3 says, “Commit to the Lord whatever you do, and He will establish your plans.”

Colossians 3:23 reminds us, “Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters.”

These verses remind me that ambition is not the enemy of humility. Wanting to win is not a betrayal of gratitude. God honors hard work, and He gives gifts with the expectation that we will use them fully.

So why do we still hesitate to say out loud that we want to win? I think part of it is fear. When you admit you want something, you also admit there is a chance you won’t get it. If the outcome doesn’t land in your favor, disappointment feels sharper. People might even whisper, “That’s why you shouldn’t want too much, that’s why you need to be humble.” But often those words come from other people’s insecurities about not chasing what they desire themselves.

Wanting to win is no different than wanting the promotion at work, or hoping to replace a car that’s lasted fifteen years, or dreaming of renovating your home. It’s not greed. It’s longing for more, for better, for growth. And if we can want those things in other areas of life, why can’t we want them for our art too?

Even if I don’t win, I will keep writing. I will keep producing bodies of work. I will keep showing up until I do. And maybe the win doesn’t look like a trophy. Maybe it looks like being in the right room, meeting the right person, unlocking the right door at the right time. Many of the artists I admire most never received the industry’s highest awards, but their work is undeniable, unforgettable, and necessary. That, too, is a kind of victory.

The Artist’s Balance

Artists know this tug-of-war well. Sometimes we just want to make the thing that makes our blood sing. But we also live in a world where art does not always pay the bills. Many of us hold nine-to-five jobs while chasing the dream on evenings and weekends. I see that as a blessing. I get to use my talents in my career, and I also get to nurture my passion outside of it. Both parts of me matter. Both are sacred.

9 to 5 and a 6 until it's done.

This season reminds me how much I cherish that balance. I am grateful for the stability of my work, and I am also grateful for the chance to step into spaces like Nashville and Reno where my passion takes center stage.

Holding Gratitude and Desire

So yes, I am honored to be a finalist. Yes, I am grateful for the opportunities in front of me. But I also want to win. Saying that does not erase my gratitude. It simply acknowledges the hunger that comes with calling.

That hunger keeps me alive.

And right now, I feel very much alive.