ADHD And Screenwriting

ADHD and Screenwriting. It’s not just my go-to answer when someone asks “tell me about yourself,” but it’s also, I suspect, a fairly common combination. Like most disorders of the mind, ADHD isn’t just one set of symptoms, but a buffet of both debilitating and beneficial tendencies that’s different for everybody. For me, my ADHD presents as a rapid slideshow of ideas — each more exciting than the last — but before my focus can fully latch onto one, my interest has already shifted towards the next project. My creative brain wants to multitask, but my executive functioning brain sucks at it.

I spent most of my childhood daydreaming. A common sight if you walked into the Hitpas house when I was between the ages of eight and eighteen was me walking in circles, bouncing a tennis ball on the ground, and muttering to myself about whatever fantasy I was lost in. It was great imagination training. Creatively speaking, I got ripped. And when it was time to pick a career path, I knew that there was only one choice. I was going to be a writer! My ADHD, however, had other plans for me.

I struggle throughout my twenties. Projects take forever to get done and require herculean effort. Some projects do get finished but I know they’re not as good as they could have been. And my external hard drive is basically just a tombstone that reads “here lies a hundred half-finished ideas.”

But it’s not all bad. Having a brain that works a little differently than a neurotypical person’s means that you sometimes get atypical ideas. When it comes to ADHD, perceiving the world differently isn’t a bug, it’s a feature. It’s a major driver of creativity. 

Hyperfocus is also pretty useful. You get started on a project — something you’re really interested in or that presents a deliciously challenging puzzle — and you’ll lose hours of your life in the blink of an eye. You are completely oblivious to things like a phone ringing, other people, a fire alarm, etc. It’s when I’m my most productive.

Before I was diagnosed, it never really occurred to me that I could have ADHD. I was an A student (not counting math) who turned his work in on time and who never seemed to have any problems paying attention. It wasn’t until I was an adult living on my own, and all the structure of school and home disappeared, that it started becoming difficult to manage my life. Even then, I just thought that I was lazy, or a procrastinator, or a dozen other negative labels that more or less equated to “I’m not good enough to succeed.” And then I had a kid, and it really became difficult to manage my life. One long journey of introspection and outpatient therapy sessions later, I was diagnosed with ADHD.

I felt…if not relieved, exactly, then validated? Like, come on, there’s no way every other joe schmo dingbat has their shit together while I, a person of intelligence, can’t remember to get groceries even though it’s on the calendar and written on a post-it on the front door.  

This was a couple of months ago, and I’m still working out the kinks of this whole “learning to manage a lifelong disorder that I only recently learned about” thing. Yes, I’m on Adderall. No, it’s not a cure-all magic pill. Motivation and prolonged effort come a little easier, but I’m still forgetful. I still feel like if something isn’t happening right now, it doesn’t exist. So I’m reading the books, and watching the YouTubes, and trying to combine my pharmaceutical intervention with some practical everyday strategies.

When it comes to writing, my goal is just to be consistent. If I can learn to live in the place between oblivion and hyperfocus, maybe it will be a little easier to show up every day and sustain the effort. See projects through, and give them the attention they deserve to reach the potential that I know they can reach. That I know I can reach. 

It turns out that ADHD isn’t an impenetrable wall to success; it’s just a locked door. And if any of the above resonated with you, I wouldn't recommend banging against that door for years without a plan, like I did. It turns out that with coping strategies, whether that’s medical intervention or lifestyle changes, you can just unlock the door and walk through (as long as you don’t forget where you put the key). But hey, it’s a lifelong battle, and I’m just glad I finally have the right weapons to stay in the fight.