Alright – so today we’ve got the honor of introducing you to Mark Hampton. We think you’ll enjoy our conversation, we’ve shared it below.

Mark, appreciate you joining us today. Are you happier as a creative? Do you sometimes think about what it would be like to just have a regular job? Can you talk to us about how you think through these emotions?

So, that’s really funny because I’ve often considered myself to be a giant walking contradiction—although, who amongst us isn’t, right? I knew from a very, very early age that I was never going to be one of those people satisfied with doing some type of office job. To me, that just sounded completely and utterly banal and boring. There was always a part of me that knew I would go down some kind of unconventional route.

But I also have ADHD, which makes me crave safety and stability. So, I’m just this walking contradiction—someone who wants to be adventurous and do new things but is forced into a comfort zone by my own mental disability. Although, Adderall does help.

The one thing I’ve strongly considered—and my brain often goes back to—is law. Going into the legal world. I think I would have been a really good lawyer. My brain is just kind of set up that way. From a very early age, I was fascinated with government, politics, and law. Not politics in the way we watch cable news and form opinions, but more the process—the political science, if you will, of everything. I loved how those things worked.

So, I very nearly became a lawyer. It was like a game-time decision, if you will.

I do think I’m happier as a creative, though. I often tell my wife I would have been the best lawyer to ever die at 40 of a heart attack, because I don’t think I would have handled the stress well. But there are definitely times when I’m between projects, between work, and I wonder what it would be like to just have a stable job and career.

My producing partner and I just went through a scenario where a movie we were working on kind of fell through with our producer. It doesn’t mean the project’s dead, but it was certainly a kick in the teeth. Those are the moments where you feel like hanging it up, throwing your hands into the air, and saying, “You know what? Maybe this just isn’t for me. Maybe I should think about something else.”

But, you know, if you can go through the trauma, you can go through the healing. So, I get better, and I go back to base—which is this: I’m a screenwriter. I’m a filmmaker. I love being creative. I love something coming from nothing, based purely on imagination. I think that’s just the most beautiful thing.

And I’m good with my decision.

Awesome – so before we get into the rest of our questions, can you briefly introduce yourself to our readers.

Okay, a little about myself: I grew up in a suburb of Atlanta, Georgia, called Marietta—affectionately referred to as “East Cobb Snobs” because of where we lived in Cobb County. It’s where the Atlanta Braves play now. We had the dubious distinction of being probably the poorest family in a rich neighborhood. Eventually, our socioeconomic condition caught up with us, and we had to move to Alabama for a short stint, where my father was the manager of an apparel factory.

Talk about culture shock—it was like something out of the movies. I felt like I had wandered onto the set of My Cousin Vinny or something like that. It was just truly another world. Luckily for us, that didn’t last long, and we ended up in a small rural town in Tennessee called Lawrenceburg, where my father was from.

Luckily, we were able to live in my grandmother’s house because she was in assisted living at the time. Through what I can only imagine was an oversight, there was still cable running to my grandmother’s house, even though it had been unoccupied for some time. We had HBO, and at the time, HBO was showing Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country—a movie I hadn’t seen before because, as I previously mentioned, we were poor.

It was running on HBO, and we were able to watch it so many times. I just fell in love with it. I decided to go ahead and create my own Star Trek series. I think I was in eighth grade at the time, and I worked on it for years—probably six years. I had eight seasons of episodes detailed. I had plots for movies, arcs for each character—it was an absolute ball of fun. That’s when I knew I wanted to be a writer and be creative in my life.

I went to the University of North Alabama, where I studied communications and theater. After that, I moved back to Atlanta and got into the improv scene, comedy scene, acting scene—just a whole lot of scenes, to be perfectly honest. It was about two years in that I had the inkling to just go big or go home, so I moved to Los Angeles, California.

There, I studied acting before realizing that what I really wanted to do was tell stories. So, I began learning the craft of screenwriting. I wanted to be a comedy writer, so I really focused on that. I’m mainly known as a dialogue guy, so I’ve definitely been given opportunities to clean up scripts with clunky dialogue.

I think I’ve just got a really good ear, and it lends itself not only to copying people’s speech and intonations but also to having the ability to say what I want in the moment, as opposed to thinking of the great comeback later. I put that ability into my characters and dialogue.

Since I’ve been doing this for 20 years, story structure has become a strength of mine. I think I have a really good ability to read a script, read a story, and figure out what’s working, what isn’t working, and why. I think that has become one of the most valuable traits I offer to any potential clients.

How can we best help foster a strong, supportive environment for artists and creatives?

That’s a great question, and I’ve spent a lot of time in my life thinking about this. So, let’s consider the role that art plays in society.

When we look at our lives, more often than not, art is what waits for us at the finish line: the finish line of our day, the finish line of our week; the finish line of our year. Whether it’s coming home after a long day of work and just wanting to throw on The Office, Parks and Rec, Brooklyn Nine-Nine, or anything Michael Schur has created; at the end of your week, you might go to the movies, see a concert, or listen to music on whatever app you have—or maybe on your record player; or at the end of the year, you may celebrate a particular holiday, decorate, go to parties, or listen to music.

Perhaps real estate is your jam, so you scroll through Zillow, looking at all these gorgeous houses you’ll never be able to afford. The point is, all of that is art.

Winston Churchill famously said, “If not for art, then what are we fighting for?” (Loose paraphrase, but it’s true.) Art is the finish line. We’re here for that because, ultimately, art is human expression.

It doesn’t always resonate with everyone—it’s not supposed to. It’s expression. Sometimes that expression is going to be antithetical to your values and your point of view as a human being, and that’s okay.

I think there are two great ways society could better support art:

One, get your kids into art as early as possible.

When I say “art,” I mean any artistic manifestation: painting, drawing, building with blocks and Legos, playing an instrument (even if that means risking someone pulling out a guitar at a party). Art is expression. It’s a great way to channel how we’re feeling, as opposed to letting our feelings bottle up.

Two, recognize the value of art in society.

Art is a team sport! It can be incredibly solitary, but the more of us that participate, the more support there will be.

Can you share a story from your journey that illustrates your resilience?

Oh man, that’s such a funny question because the entertainment industry is all about resilience. You simply cannot survive in this industry without tremendous resilience because it is going to beat you down to a pulp.

The story I’ll share is about when I had written what I think is probably one of my strongest scripts to date. With that script, I submitted to a very prestigious fellowship, certain I would at least get an interview. And then, lo and behold, I didn’t even make it past the first round.

It felt as if I had gone on a tryout for the Dodgers, thrown nothing but 103 mph fastballs and filthy curveballs, hit every ball out of the stadium when I was at bat, and was still immediately cut. That’s what it felt like. It was the hardest I’ve ever been hit in this industry—emotionally, I mean.

Rejection is a part of what I do, but it hurt so badly that I didn’t write for a month. I couldn’t even tell my wife for a month—I was so distraught. I felt like I had done my absolute best, and it still didn’t even get me an interview.

So, I took the beating, as it were, processed the rejection, and then I got up off my butt and started writing again. This time, with even more dedication, more resilience, and more ambition, because this is the only thing I can do. This is my life, and I know I will pursue this until there’s nothing left in my body to pursue it.

Sometimes, we have to take a little bit of time to heal. And then, we move forward again. Why? Because we can always improve! And that’s what it takes. So, I took that time to heal and then I got busy because giving up simply isn’t an option.

Contact Info:

• Instagram: @markshampton
• Twitter: @markshampton