It's Fucking Scary Reinventing Yourself. But It's Life

It’s fucking scary.

Reinventing yourself.

But it’s life.

The more you live it, the more you’re able to listen.

As you show up, your soul starts to see what you’re doing.

The risks you take, the mistakes you make.

And slowly, your soul believes that you actually have her back.

You’d do anything for her.

Your actions say: Hey Soul, I got you girl.

And so your soul goes: I believe you. And PS - THIS. IS. YOUR. LIFE’S. WORK.

My life’s work, to become a screenwriter, showed up because of every single action I took.

Including The Copy Word.

I started The Copy Word for a few reasons.

But the truth was, I started it to hide.

Because at the time, my life’s work was to get paid to write.

Vague, right? But on track.

The issue was the idea of getting paid to write felt impossible.

So I went and created a copywriting agency to give me the copywriting job to get paid.

And it worked.

Clients came to me.

Within a few short weeks I had a handful of copywriting clients and I was living the dream.

Making a living from my words.

Now that I was getting paid to write - proof to my soul that I was all in,

The calling got bigger.

Beyond copywriting.

A new medium.

A book.

So I wrote one.

I released it.

It’s amazing.

But I wasn’t enough. I wasn’t satisfied. I wasn’t fulfilled.

So my soul knocked on the door again:

Screenwriter.

So naturally, I procrastinated on it for months. And months.

Until finally, I bought the software, Final Draft.

The concept showed itself. I wrote the pilot.

Right there on the pages, I wrote my soul alive.

And that’s when I knew that my life’s work is way bigger than The Copy Word.

But here’s the bit best.

It’s still all about copy.

Because copy is the art of writing with the intention to sell.

And writing a screenplay is all about selling.

Selling my concept.

Selling my idea.

Selling my story.

Selling my jokes.

Selling my soul’s work.

In the good way.

To make it in whatever industry you want, doing whatever the hell you want, and no matter what your soul calls you to do, you need to learn to communicate in a way that sells your soul’s work.

So my copywriting gig isn’t going anywhere.

But really, it’s all about me.

Which is scary to say.

Copywriter. Screenwriter.

Elizabeth McKenzie: a woman on a mission to live like a boss, put her life on the line for her dreams of becoming a screenwriter, and making bank along the the way.

And showing you that you can do the same.

It all starts with your communication.

Protect Your Energy

Getting off the plane the complete opposite of fresh faced and quietly shitting myself that after 14 hours I was going to have to drive 55 minutes on the opposite side of the road to my Airbnb, I’d arrived in L.A. and I was excited.

Fast forward 72 hours and that excitement turned into WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS PLACE!?

So, what happened from the time I got off the plane ready to hell yes all over L.A. to hell fucking no?

The energy. 

Giving All The Fucks In The World

Not giving a fuck.

It’s the phase that badass rap dreams are made of.

It’s the epitome of what society should be aiming for.

It’s a motto for how to live your life.

Apparently, it’s life changing to not give a fuck.

And it’s just been drawn to my attention that even though I’ve got a reputation for not giving fuck, I’m here to tell you this:

I give a fuck.

Why I Look Hotter With Make Up On

I want to look good.

But when it’s over 25 degree (celsius) I don’t want to wear make up or spend 20 minutes with my head under blasting hot air. 

I want to wear heels.

But fuck sore feet.

I want to have an office that costs $10,000 to deck out, thereby making me look like not only have I got my shit together but I'm totes inspiring. 

But I live in a rental house and my office is currently what used to be a 10 year old girls room with purple walls.

I want to shop at Chanel.

But every time I’m in the city I’m wearing a nike hoodie and sneakers and a top that has some sort of unidentifiable stain because I'm one of those eaters.

I want it all.

The make-up-free, and fancy-free life.

And I want all the fancy too.

Where The Boyband Obsession Began

It was 1997.

Having been a late adopter with Friends, I was rocking the Rachel do, except, because I was an awkward almost-teen, I didn’t know how to style the thing so it looked like more like shaggy than chic. 

It was a Saturday morning. I was at my friend’s house. TV Hits was playing in the background where pop hit after pop hit was played until there it was, the unmistakable guitar riff, the syncopated beats that to this day no one can seem to cover, and the sweet vocals of the one and only Taylor Hanson.

Mmmbop.