Exclusive Excerpt from
Getting Back to Me
by, Scottie Jeanette Madden
Today we feature an author who sheds light on life as a successful television producer and what it's like to be transgender female in a male dominated world, and finding the courage to be who she really is. We have an exclusive excerpt that is quite literally some of the best writing I've seen in a while. It's all about the author's voice. Try not to be completely consumed by this passage.
It's riveting.
Exclusive Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
DUDE, YOU’RE SCREWED
Written at 35,000 feet, between sleeping strangers:
Exhausted. . . been on the road for almost 3 years straight . . . not freakin’ kidding! When we tabulated my “days out of town” for our taxes last year, it was easier to add up the days I was home, fifteen! This year we’re on track for even fewer. I did eight countries on four continents in three months. It’s not a record we can be proud of, my crew is toast, and I’m feeling like I barely got them out alive. Tempers are frayed, and our sense of accomplishment is more like survivor’s guilt. It’s not how I like to run a show.
Feeling defeated when I should be elated: a hit show! Broke my second season curse and the shows are going to look amazing. We hit that magic point in a TV show’s life when the cast is getting recognized in airports - we almost missed connections as they signed autographs and posed for pictures in JoBerg (South Africa) Norway and Romania. As we say on my crew, “First world problems!”
Heck yes, I’m proud of what we built, but I can’t help feeling like this is the end. The network is in turmoil, (they never knew what to do with us, and they have a problem making “intellevision.” (Shows that require an IQ higher than a network suit.) We are one of the most expensive shows they have. My cast has not been treated well by our overlords and our pride of ownership is all we got left; it hurts my heart that we are living up to our name.
I say “my,” as in my crew, my cast, my show because, even though this show was not my idea, I can say without reservation or challenge that I am the mother bear of our little cub. I will confess that I had nothing to do with the title, “Dude, You’re Screwed” but I was the one who insured that a show where “boys will be boys” would not only redefine the survival genre, it would make for a fun ride. As comes with the territory, I take responsibility for the things that didn’t work (there were a few) as much as the things that did. I also confess to pushing, pulling, dragging and nagging, and when required, being such a pain in the butt there was no choice but to grant our wishes, so we could make a show that would be worthy of the insane effort my cast and crew put into every moment. As my dad would say, lead, follow or get the hell out of the way. So, I created and fostered a take-no-prisoners, us against the world, give-us-what-we-want-and-no-one-gets-hurt environment. . .
Did I say I was the Showrunner?
This is technically a nickname for my position. I am a Co-EP, which in reality television is the title for the one “Executive Producer” who was actually producing the television series. At the top of every show (the beginning) there is a list of Executive Producers who made the deal that made the show you are watching. These people are my bosses; I’m the one who is making the show they all promised to deliver.
I’m both the lead storyteller (creative) and business person (management) on the set. As my friend John Hudson RAF says, I’m “the adult.” It’s my name that gets approved by the network, a name built in the adventure doc-reality sect.
This probably the most übermale of the genres: remote, harsh locations and conditions that stretch personnel and equipment to their limits. In my career, I’ve lead crews into the amazon jungle (gold mining), the South Pacific (surfing), Iceland, Chile, Alaska, Nicaragua, the Arctic circle twice (survival). I’ve spent a summer chasing catfish noodlers (believe me they’re not hard to catch, the noodlers I mean) in Oklahoma’s Red River, and a hurricane season with Shrimpers on the Gulf of Mexico.
Not bad for a girl.
Wait. That was a cheap shot. I guess I’ll leave it in, because it illustrates what’s going on. . . I’m changing. I can’t even say the same jokes anymore. Count me in the-best-man-for-a-job-is-a-woman club. As cool as this whole life sounds, the glory is dimming. I don’t feel comfortable even seeing pictures of myself as a “dude.”
I haven’t referred to myself as anything male or masculine for the past year. What’s odd is that I don’t seem to have any control over what’s happening to me and, stranger still, is that:
~ I don’t want control over these changes.
~ I like what’s happening.
~ I won’t do anything to stop the flow.
I will say it hasn’t been easy these last few months. The schedule was brutal and I shined because of it in some areas, taking care of my crew (as Tezzer says, “Nobody got hurt, nobody got pregnant, nobody went to jail, it was a successful mission.”) But there were more than a few “explosions” and despite the fact that not a jury in the world would convict me (the above itinerary, plus a wife going thru chemo for the second time, and oh yeah, my gender dysphoria – the cool medical term for the psychological distress and trauma that occurs when your biology and your identity don’t match) that I’m not proud of. My rep as an unflappable Zen master; cool in the chaos, fun to be with and, more importantly, the one who brings home the story and a happy crew, was in jeopardy.
I am the showrunner for arguably the most testosterone fueled, “über-alpha-male-fest” on TV. The only thing more masculine than us is the NFL. I’ve got an active duty Green Beret Master Sargent, an RAF Elite SERE Instructor (Survive Evade Resist (as in torture) & Escape), and a former navy SEAL, now college football coach, plus a revolving cast that include a Grizzly Bear tracker and other outdoorsmen.
I wish I could tell the world that this Ultra Boys club is run by a girl.
I wish I could tell my cast & crew.
And I feel like I need to hurry. My body is trying like hell to out me. My hair is past my shoulders and I get daily flak from the “dudes” for my girlie earrings (okay, everyone gets flak from them for anything). I’ve had to wear a jog bra all season long because “the girls” have grown two cup sizes (this is without hormones) and I can’t go swimming without a shirt. The SEAL noticed and announced at every watering hole, “Why does the boss-man always wear a shirt in the swimming pool?”
At this point, I had no clue what was about to happen. I didn’t know it yet, but a lifelong struggle was ending and happening so quietly, so gently, that there was nothing to resist. Oddly, in the same way that I have been complicit in my own imprisonment, I’m looking the other way as the She in me files the bars of her cell for the jailbreak.
All I do know, as I feel the airplane cabin pressurize, is that I’m going home. Finally. It’s bitter sweet. I’m so homesick, I miss Mylove so bad, I’m literally walking into walls; you know that feeling you get when you haven’t eaten in so long that you don’t even know you’re starving? I’m numb. I’m so mentally fried, I can barely function, and I’m so sad. We’re not even thru post, the shows haven’t hit the air yet, and though I have nothing to base it on, I can feel it all ending.
As I sit on the plane, (I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve made sure my seatback and folding tray table were in the full and upright positions) my head is spinning. Numb as I am, I’m also oddly disoriented. A mental picture haunts me as I close my eyes: warning lights blink dully on the control panel of a ship already underwater. . . a ghostly warning that the ship went down before anyone could respond. . . I’m drifting as the bridge fills with cold murky ocean, I can sense I should care, that something vague is wrong, but, I’m lulled. . . the sense of falling, slowly, into intense silence, threatens to. . . SHIT! I sit bolt upright. It’s freakin’ true! It really happened! Courtney outted me! WTF!
Courtney is my dear friend and the Line Producer (she’s the money girl) on my show. We’ve become very close over the last three years. I call her “Mom” and even though she works under me, she’s the inside girl for the production company. She keeps track of the money I decide we’re spending. We are a great team. She’s the one who has our backs back at HQ, while I’m running through malaria, customs and freezing cold.
But as we sat waiting for our wrap party to begin last night, enjoying a margarita and a brief moment of quiet before our crew arrived, we recounted the year that just streaked past us both; Robin Williams had just passed, (among other real events) and Courtney lamented that “The World According to Garp” was her favorite Robin movie, that she could totally relate to it. Now maybe it was the margarita talking, but I replied, “Me, too.”
(And, of course I pictured John Lithgow’s portrayal of the NFL tight end turned transsexual, Roberta
Muldoon.) What the hell am I doing? Warning lights! Sirens! Deflector Shields impotently sliding down their tracks, too late to stop the launch!
Courtney smiled as she sipped and said, “Oh I bet you did.”
GOD SHE. . . KNOWS!
DIVERT ALL POWER TO THE FORWARD THRUSTERS, REVERSE ENGINES!
I tried to be cool, but I was trapped, or was I? Is this really happening, I asked myself? Or am I freaking out for nothing. Calm down!
I croaked, “What do you mean by that?”
Courtney is a gentle soul, never confrontational, I’m the passionate one, I have to coach her to stick up for herself. She leaned in, eyes unwavering and whispered, “What do you mean, what do I mean?”
I tried to shake it off. Was I making this up? Why was the air being sucked out of my lungs?
“I mean. . . Courtney, what are you saying?”
She gently grabbed my trembling hand, “Sweetheart, I know.”
Time stopped. The shattering sound of cosmic airbrakes arresting the planet’s orbit. In an instant, everything would be flung into space and chaos.
My life had begun to revolve around this company, my new Denver family, and I loved them and loved being in charge of their most challenging, highest profile show. Only recently, had I begun to feel my place there was wobbly. I would always be the outsider; a “Hollywood” philosophy was a gamble in the Mile High City, (as it is in any city outside the 30 mile zone) and I couldn’t afford to make any mistakes. Because of my take no prisoner’s ethic, I could be more trouble than I was worth to some, and who wouldn’t want to step into my place, take over the coolest show in house, the crown jewel of the company, especially now, that I had figured it out for them, if I gave them half a chance?
It turned out that Courtney had always known I was transgender. She thought it was obvious and never thought she knew a “secret” about me, just who I was. Just Scott being Scott.
She said that every time she booked my air travel, it broke her heart to check the “M” box (under Gender) because it had to match my passport, even though it wasn’t true. I started to cry, which made her tear up, too. God bless this woman, I was going miss her terribly. She snuck one last comment in before the rest of our crew arrived. . .
“Besides, I thought your Google plus announcement confirmed it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“When you changed your gender on your profile to “Female” Google plus sent out an announcement to all of your contacts. I thought, good for her, she’s officially coming out.”
This is so not good. Could it be true? Why would she lie? As I sat with the shrapnel of this bomb all around me, the crew started filing in, and we had to shelve this for now.
I snuck into the bathroom and feverishly checked on my iPhone, sure enough, of the ten or so fields under profile, I had filled in only two: my birthdate & my gender: FEMALE!
I had unconsciously “ousted myself.” After almost 40 years of clandestine spycraft worthy of CIA deep cover to conceal my true identity, I had ousted myself with one keystroke. Seriously? Really? Seriously. Really.
As alarming as that should have been, I was. . . excited, and SCARED OUT OF MY MIND! I tried to talk it away, nobody pays that much attention to lil ‘ol me, right?
Courtney had.
That was last night, and now I’m on this plane. . . buzzing. Sinking, too tired to fight and too anxious. It feels almost like excitement, but without the adrenaline. What now?
I will dive into home. Time to be with her. Time to rest & heal. Time to… Time to… be me?
That’s right, I’ve been promising myself that I would have “it” figured out by now. I have been dodging Mylove’s inquiries for months. And to keep both our sanity, it is time.
Even if I’m not ready, I don’t have a choice anymore. As we say on DYS, “That train left the dock.”
Author: Scottie Jeanette Madden
About the Author
Though this is Ms. Madden’s first book, she is no stranger to the craft, with credits for creating and writing children's television (Pug & Zero’s Field Trip), feature film (the kiss), gameshows (Do You Trust Me? Duel, On the Cover and Last to Survive), primetime (Blood of Queens, The Other Woman, Out of the Wild, Dude, You're Screwed), and award winning screenplays (The Babe on Sunset, the kiss). Ms. Madden balances her time between being writing and producer/showrunner in the adventure documentary world. Known for her engaging storytelling and bold visual style, Scottie has over 30 years in the trenches. Rising through the technical ranks as camera operator and editor, she brings front line experience to her work as writer, director and showrunner. Her feature writing and directing debut, the kiss, was decorated in film festivals and was featured at AFM. As showrunner, Her recent work, Discovery’s Land Rush and the legendary Dude, You’re Screwed (Suvive That! Internationally) and Nat Geo’s The Ark. Her directing credits include Hot Tamales Live! and The Best of It’s Showtime at the Apollo comedy series.
About the Book:
The realtime account of the coming out of a respected adventure survival filmmaker, taken from her journal entries as she leaves behind fear and “white male privilege” to embrace truth, grace and womanhood. Her gut-wrenching journey of love, acceptance and honesty becomes the ultimate survival show.
Scottie didn’t make it easy on herself. Like many late-stage trans women, Scottie had made one helluva guy; succeeding as a husband of 26 years, the only son, the big brother to three sisters and the legendary adventurer uncle to their children. Everything in her life screamed Alpha Male, Ultimate Man, Best Boy, the dude, and the man.
No one could guess that Scottie, a top survival showrunner for Discovery Channel and the History Channel, known for leading über-male productions in the world’s most dangerous locations, was losing a lifelong battle for her soul.
It takes true love from her wife of 26 years, for Scottie to shake off fifty years of expectations from her family, society and herself. But first, she must face her own denial to dismantle the walls of a self imposed prison.
Scottie’s articulate and insightful perspective shines new light on the transgender experience, but it's her deeply personal confession told with unflinching clarity, inspiring courage, and engaging humor, that makes her story a must read for any human, of any persuasion. Hers is a love story that will inspire and affirm everyone.
Twitter @scottiejeanette @zuzubeanpress
Facebook www.facebook.com/zuzubeanpress
5 STAR REVIEW
By Sally J. Rubin on November 10, 2015
Format: Paperback
A MUST-READ if you know and love someone or know someone who knows and cares about someone facing gender transformation. This book is a jaw-dropping page-turner and will answer most (if not, all) questions that come up.
Scottie brings you along her ride of hiding from herself (and everyone she loves) the deepest disconnect of her life and the intense longing to make it right. The question is ever-present: Will I still be loved, if I make this change? Will I hurt the one(s) I love the most? Am I letting the people who know and count on me down? Will I end up rejected and alone?
Scottie's journey shows the complicated, heart-rending effort and courage it takes for an individual facing gender-dysphoria in him- or herself. And it's not "just a change," she characterizes it more accurately as a deep reunion with her soul. Having faced *that one*... the next hurdle...coming out to family, friends, co-workers...and facing their responses. It would be enough to stop anyone were it not for the power of love at work.
In Scottie's case, thankfully, love triumphs. But whose love triumphs? Having gone from super-hip-cool-dude to soft-warm-lovely-woman, her journey (pardon the pun) engenders an exemplary compassion within her for both herself and for the struggles of others. This transformation, in short, makes her a better person. By the time you finish reading this book, you will not only have gone on the wild ride from Scott-to-Scottie, but you will know and love Scottie Jeanette Madden.
