I really had to dig deep to find a writing topic this week. Some may call it “writer’s block.” I simply call it “empty brain.” For the last two weeks or so I’ve been struggling with empty brain. It truly feels like there’s nothing inside my head except Crossfit, my next meal, and this one joke a coworker told me a month ago that still makes me laugh (it was diarrhea related).

Whenever I feel the empty brain, I just daydream. I’m never not daydreaming but this is more like constructive daydreaming. It’s time set aside specifically for that purpose. Some may call it procrastination. I call it productivity. During this particular session of constructive daydreaming (CD), I went to an image that I’ve gone to for two decades now. I’m standing on this giant stage in a tuxedo. I’m nervous but excited. The metal statue in my hand is cold and heavy. I’m trying to speak clearly into the microphone. People are watching me. I’ve just won an Oscar. Boom! There we have it folks, a blog post. Side note: feel free to do some constructive daydreaming the next time you’re stuck on an idea, or if you’re just feeling lazy and bored.

It’s a total cliché but every little boy and every little girl and every little girly boy who decides they’re going to be an actor prepares an Oscar speech. It’s the natural progression of things. Step 1: sign up for your first acting class. Step 2: prepare your Oscar speech. Seems logical. Since I’ve been preparing these speeches for years now, they are quite well rehearsed. I would like to share my surprisingly well-rehearsed Oscar acceptance speeches with you now. You may be saying, “Patrick, why wouldst thou prepare multiple speeches?” That’s a valid question my dear reader, especially if you’re an early American settler which you appear to be. I have multiple speeches prepared because A) I plan on winning multiple Oscars (obvi) and B) the speech will vary depending on what/why I’m winning.

I must include the disclaimer that the very idea of the Oscars is ridiculous. I know that. How do we qualify and quantify this shit? How is one brilliant performance more brilliant than another brilliant performance? For that matter, how is one average performance better than another? How do we decide this stuff in the first place? Sure there’s bad acting. Make no mistake. I’ve done some myself, like bad. Like really, really bad. I’ve done some acting that’s so bad it caused actual physical pain to the body. Everybody’s body. All the bodies nearby were hurt by my acting. But once you’re past that stage, how do you determine that one person did art better than another?

That being said, I would kill all the living human beings on planet earth and all the ones in outer space for that naked golden statue. It’s dumb. It’s shallow. It’s me. When you’re young and you want an Oscar it’s because you’re full of all those hormonally-induced hopes and dreams. You think it’s a certainty that you will be a famous actor and everyone will love your movies. You’ll be the next Meryl Streep but with brown hair. As you get older, the Oscar dream still kicks around but now it’s fueled by bitterness and fury. You want to show every single casting director, agent, acting coach, director, producer, and costumer who ever rejected you that they are complete idiots who should eat their hearts out with a fork. The only way to do that is to laugh in their face while holding an Oscar. The idea of that kind of justice really comforts the soul when you don’t book the role of “Fat Photographer.”*

And the Oscar goes to…

Speech #1

This one is my big break. In this movie, I was a local hire in Atlanta but the role was fairly juicy. Maybe it’s a little indie film that got a few big names on board. I’m definitely a supporting character. Maybe I don’t have a ton of screen time but it’s a breakout performance. The role is probably the goofy adult son in a family dramedy. It’s mostly a comedic role but I have a powerful scene with my mom played by Kathy Bates or Emma Thompson. The scene probably involves a monologue that rips everyone’s soul apart. Maybe I reveal some past trauma to my mama. The success of the film and my nomination were both a shock.

**Walks up to the podium kinda flustered/kinda giggly**

“Oh my gosh! You guys! I just can’t with this! I mean…I can (charming laugh), I definitely can. This is amazing! Thank you! I’d like to thank the Academy, of course, for this incredible honor. Being here tonight is a literal dream come true. As many of you know, I started out as a blogger and I once wrote a post with this exact speech. And now here we are. Isn’t life funny!?

Working on this film with such incredible people was like taking a master class in acting. I have to thank our phenomenal cast and crew, especially Kathy Bates or Emma Thompson who took me by the hand and guided me through this whole scary process. I now consider you a forever friend. Our fearless leader, (insert name of fearless director), you are a virtuoso of storytelling. Thank you for letting me be even a tiny part of your vision.

Usually people thank their team at this point. Seeing as I’m a brand-new fetus to this whole thing, my team consists of one person, my agent Susan. Susan, thank you. You’ve helped me navigate the ups and downs, lots and lots of downs, of this business. You stood by me for long periods of time where I made you zero dollars. I’m eternally grateful for your kindness and persistence.

To my family, Erin, Shannon, Phillip, Aunt J, thank you for supporting the dream all these years even when it didn’t make any sense. In fact it rarely made sense. Sometimes your support was emotional or spiritual. At times, it was even financial. I always loved the financial support. That was fun.

Mom (looks out at mom in audience to find mon), you never once questioned the greatness that was in store for me. You knew with unwavering certainty that big things were always in the pipeline. You didn’t know what it would look like but you knew it was on the horizon. You knew in your bones. Thank you for your faith. I wouldn’t be here without you because I borrowed that faith more often than you realize. Thank you.

Lastly, I’d like to remind everyone that a mere two years ago I was a blogger in Atlanta who auditioned for roles like “Nice Man” and “Bagel Clerk.” Yes, those were actual roles in actual movies. There are two upsetting things about this. 1) I desperately wanted to book those roles and 2) I never did. Seriously, almost never. By most definitions, I was a nobody. I was a failure. Just slogging along. But, for some reason, maybe it was delusion, maybe it was conviction, I decided to be a failure who stayed in the game. Throwing my name in the hat was all I had at my disposal. It was the only thing I had control over. I held on to the idea that, in spite of my nobody-ness, I had something to say whether or not anyone was listening. And that’s what I did. I would say a thing and then move on to say the next thing. I stayed in it. So if you’re listening right now and feeling a personal sense of nobody-ness, I beg you to please stay in it. Stay. Because our world is achingly hungry to hear what it is you have to say.

Thank you.”

 

Speech #2

This one is my big, big role. This is my Sophie’s Choice. Not in the sense that I’m making a tough decision, more in the sense that this is a definitive moment in my career. It happens early in the career but not when I’m completely wet behind the ears. I mean I have won the previous Oscar already. In this movie I play a polyglot translator who gets caught up in international political crossfire. I’m thinking it involves Bosnia in the 90’s. In the film I speak a bunch of different languages. I have a heartbreaking scene where my wife and child get taken away from me. Maybe my character has a limp.

**Approaches the podium with a quiet confidence**

“Thank you so much. This is an incredible honor.

Every now and again, you get the opportunity to tell a story that is so immensely bigger than you that, at times, it can feel crushing. We know all stories have weight to them. Some are easy and fun. You can chuck them across a finish line without breaking a sweat. Some are a little bulky and cumbersome and require more strength. They need effort. Others are so heavy that you have no choice but to strap it on your back and use every fiber of your being to move it even a few inches. Your entire soul gets used in the process.

That’s what (insert name of movie) was for me. I thought the weight of telling (insert character’s name)’s story might swallow me whole. I knew this story had to be told and I knew it had to be told well. It was a dire necessity because this was a tale of real events where real lives were shattered and real blood was spilled. It was paralyzing at times.

Without our captain, (insert name of young director who also wrote the script), this story would never have been birthed into life. You answered the call to honor the lives that were lost in Sarajevo.^ It was not an easy task but you took the reigns and constantly steered us toward the direction of truth. You always asked, “Where is the soul of this moment?” Every step of the way, you asked where the soul was. I think that’s a lesson I will take with me through the rest of my life. Where is the soul?

To my family and friends, my agents and managers, thank you for helping me steer the ship of my life as I took on this journey. It was not an easy road but I slept just a tiny bit better at night knowing you would be there with me every step of the way. Thank you.

To my husband, (insert husband’s name who at this point could literally be anybody because I’m the most single human in the history of time), thank you for loving me. Thank you for making me laugh and reminding me of the goodness in humanity, the reason I told this story in the first place. Thank you for showing me where the light is. And thank you for keeping me grounded and reminding me that just because I make movies, I’m not allowed to be an asshole.

The story of (insert character’s name) is the story of grief and manmade atrocity and survival. His is a story of war and the horrors that humans can inflict on one another. It’s also a story of love and family and things worth fighting for. His is the story of Bosnia. His is a story that was meant to open us up. Open us up to love and open us up to pain. He can’t be locked away in Bosnia in ‘92 because his story is happening all over the world. Right now. At this very minute. (Character’s name), I pray that your story will keep our eyes open and awake. May it help us seek out peace for a world that desperately needs it.

Thank you.”

Speech #3

So this particular imaginary movie is already very close to my imaginary heart. I’ve been working on a feature-length screenplay for a few years now (in real life). I haven’t been consistent or diligent but it’s a story that actively rattles around inside me. I’ve written a treatment, done a good bit of outlining, and have 30-ish pages written. Note to self: Oscar success is dependent upon completing this screenplay, Donohue!

In addition to writing the script, I will also star in the film (and win Oscars for both, obvi). This will be the big transition moment in my career. It’ll be the moment that people remember I’m a writer AND an actress. In the film, I play a young (dear god, I need to write this thing while I still sorta fall into that category) man with muscular dystrophy who is bound to a wheelchair. I have a wildly imaginative inner life where I’m a multi-genre musical superstar, like a white Justin Timberlake. In the film, directed by Ava DuVernay, my character falls hopelessly in love with his physical therapist. Along with the help of a few friends and a record-store owner, my character discovers his inner superstar, wheelchair and all. It’s a major tearjerker with glittery musical numbers and gritty truth.

**Walks to podium feeling overwhelmed but humble**

“Wow. This is just wow. Thank you. Truly, truly, thank you.

Being up here right now is a surreal moment in spite of the fact that I’ve done this a few times. It’s surreal because the timeline from when I first saw a vision of (character’s name) in my head until now has spanned years. His story rolled around in my soul throughout my 20’s. Not only did I stay with this story but it stayed with me. It never left. It never fluttered off to go find another author to breathe it into life. It was a stubborn little story, as stories can sometimes be. So thank you story. Your stubbornness is appreciated.

This film and its creation rest on the backs of a lot of people. (Thanks boring studio people and those with money because hello this is a capitalist society).

Ava, my goddess, my queen. You were steady and kind and gentle. You understood the soul of this story and you did everything in your power to nurture it, protect it, and guide it. In the process you nurtured, protected, and guided me. You helped me birth this baby into life. You were my doula, my midwife. But you were also co-creator. You took ownership of an idea and saw it into being. Your beautiful mind took words that I wrote and built an entire world around them. I will never have the words to adequately thank you for this gift. Working with you has profoundly changed me not only as an artist but as a human.

Chris (Hemsworth, in an unlikely role as my character’s PT and love interest…I mean, we’re manifesting here so let’s manifest big), I could not think of a more unlikely choice for (his character’s name). And yet, as unlikely as it was, I can’t think of another person playing this role. You dove in headfirst and showed me what fearlessness and courage and daring look like in action. Thank you for your kindness and patience as I questioned my ability to do this job almost every single day. Thank you for your work and your friendship. Thank you.

Cynthia (Erivo, in the role of my character’s personal caretaker and best friend), every single time we got to play together there was palpable electricity. Your intensity and passion scared me a little. But every time Ava would call “action” I felt nothing but safety. I would look at you and know that you had my back in a profound and concrete way. Thank you for being the giant ball of light that you are. I’m also now going to require that you sing Happy Birthday to me every year until we’re both dead.

Jessica (Miesel, my real life friend who will play the role of the quirky record store employee who befriends my character), you and I have been through it all. We started from the bottom and now we’re here, girl. We’ve done summer stock theatre in Georgia. We’ve had more bottles of wine than can be counted. We’ve stood with each other through the grief and sorrow and the joy and triumph. Thank you for being my friend.

John (Goodman, plays my dad), Joanna (Gleason, plays my mom), and Jeff (Bridges, plays record store owner), you three are masterful craftsmen. You are artists and truth tellers. You also happen to be delightful people who brought an energy and joy to the set. I can’t imagine being able to do this film with you. In fact, I couldn’t have. Thank you.

I told this story because it’s one that’s very close to me. (My character’s name) was trapped in a body, in a world, that didn’t feel like his own. He knew there was greatness just beyond his grasp. But he didn’t stop reaching. He didn’t stop dreaming. So whatever the circumstance may be, whatever it is that has trapped you, please don’t stop believing in the power of imagination. Possibility is a powerful thing. It can sustain hope and elevate the human spirit. It can build skyscrapers and invent new technology and give you a reason to get out of bed. Please, whatever you do, don’t lose your sense of possibility. It’s a seriously mighty force.

Thank you.”

So there you have it folks. The Oscar speeches of Patrick J. Donohue. Of course they will need to be adjusted depending on the exact circumstances of the win. Obviously I will thank my loved ones at every speech. I will thank my team and do all that. I will also pontificate on storytelling and acting because those 60 seconds will be all mine and that’s how I want to use them. If ever you find yourself on the Oscar stage, feel free to borrow and modify any of these speeches to fit your needs. Just promise me that I can cop a feel of your statue…so to speak.

 

*An actual role I actually auditioned for and actually didn’t book

 

^I literally know nothing about Bosnia or their conflict or history or anything about life in general.