Help! Now That I’m a Dad, I’m Having Trouble Jumping Across Buildings
I’ve been a stunt performer for 20 years, and nothing compares to the thrill of freefalling off a cliff or racing through a burning building. But last month, my career faced its biggest challenge yet: I became a father.
My daughter was much-wanted, and I had all these wild dreams of teaching her stunts when she got older. I even looked up toddler trapeze classes. My wife thought I was nuts.
But the moment she arrived, everything changed. She’s so tiny, so fragile, and suddenly, all I want to do is protect her. I used to be fearless, but now I can’t even think about doing the stunts I once loved.
I haven’t been back to work, even though my paternity leave ended two weeks ago. I’ve been ghosting my agent, too. For the first time, I’m seeing myself as flesh and bone, and I can’t risk getting hurt. But I need to provide for my family, and my wife’s on my case to snap out of it.
Help me out,
Stunt Double in Trouble
(Sent second-class mail because why does everything need to be so quick?!)
Dear Stunt Double in Trouble,
First off, congratulations on becoming a father! It sounds like your little one has already pulled off the greatest stunt of all—flipping your life upside down.
So, what’s really changed? You’ve spent decades defying gravity, embracing danger, and pushing your limits. Now, with a new life depending on you, those limits are suddenly more real. But what if this shift isn’t about losing your edge, but redefining what bravery means to you?
You mentioned wanting to protect your daughter, and that instinct is powerful. But what if protecting her isn’t just about staying safe, but also showing her how to live fully—even with fear in the mix? How might you balance the need to be there for her with the drive to continue doing what you love? You can be protective and a daredevil—think more Liam Neeson in ‘Taken,’ less Marlin from ‘Finding Nemo.‘
Picture yourself in your stunt gear, ready to take on a challenge, with your daughter watching. What do you want her to see? Someone who’s fearless, or someone who’s courageous despite fear.
You’ve taken on countless physical challenges—could this be the mental and emotional challenge you didn’t see coming? And could the wisdom that comes with fatherhood actually make you a better, smarter stuntman?
Lastly, what would it look like to ease back into work at a pace that feels right? Maybe some stumbles and pratfalls to start with, and work your way up to the odd ravine vault?
You’ve got a lot to juggle, but sometimes the bravest thing isn’t to leap—it’s to pause.
Take it one step at a time,
Remy
Illustration by Russ Tudor
I’m a Script Doctor With a Career That Needs Fixing
Dear Remy,
Ever heard of a script doctor? We’re the ones who swoop in when a script’s in trouble, patching up plot holes, fixing timelines, making everything click. And it’s about as glamorous as stitching up a tire.
I know this because I am one. And I hate it.
I started out in my 20s working on ‘locked room’ mysteries. I had a knack for untangling complex stories, and before I knew it, I became Hollywood’s go-to fixer. But this wasn’t the dream. I wanted to be the one with “Created by [name redacted]” at the end of the credits, not the ghost in the machine who makes someone else’s vision work.
Now, I watch younger writers get their big breaks while I’m brought in last minute to save the day, often without a credit. The world is passing me by, and I’m left wondering—should I push for my dreams, or should I be content with the (admittedly lucrative) niche I’ve carved out?
Yours,
Doct-ugh
Dear Doct-ugh,
You’re the one who fixes the unsolvable, but now you’re grappling with your own plot twist. How did you end up as the script doctor rather than the creator? And more importantly, where do you go from here?
Let’s start with this: You’re insanely talented at something most writers find daunting. Does this feel like a blessing or a detour from your true calling? It sounds like you’re torn between financial security and creative fulfillment. Have you considered redefining success? What if it’s not just about recognition, but also about the joy of creating—whether it’s your own work or saving someone else’s?
Luck plays a big role in this industry, and sometimes, we end up excelling where we least expect it. But what if the script doctor and the creator could coexist? Perhaps your knack for solving story problems is the secret weapon that helps you create something entirely your own. Could it be the edge you need to craft your masterpiece? Is there a way to balance both, or do they have to be mutually exclusive?
Visualize the credits rolling on your dream project—“Created by [name redacted]” in bold—perhaps with a rousing closing tune reaching its crescendo as your name lands on screen. Now, think about the path that gets you there. What steps will you take? What risks are you willing to embrace?
You’re at a crossroads, but remember, the best stories aren’t solved by following a straight line. Sometimes, it’s the unexpected twists that lead to the most satisfying endings.
Here’s to crafting your own story,
Remy
I Caught My Agent in a Compromising Position — And Now He’s Being Weird
Dear Remy,
I’m an actor who’s finally breaking through, landing some decent roles. Life was good—until recently. I’m also gay, though I haven’t played a gay character on screen yet. Earlier this summer, I decided to unwind with a weekend in Provincetown, a place known for its beach, relaxation, and, well, vibrant atmosphere.
But then things took a turn. While strolling along the dunes, I stumbled upon my agent… in a compromising situation with a couple of guys. I thought I was unshockable, but I admit, I was a little rattled. Before he saw me, I ducked out—no awkward confrontation, no mess.
The weekend ended, and I figured I was in the clear. But at our meeting this week, his whole vibe was off. He was cold, distant—like he was dealing with a total stranger, not someone whose career he’s supposed to be building.
Did he see me and now he’s weirded out? Is he embarrassed? Does he think I’m going to hold it against him? I don’t want to make it worse, but I also don’t want this to mess up my career. How do I handle this?
Sincerely,
Provincetown Peeping Tom
Dear Provincetown Peeping Tom,
Ah, Provincetown—a place where you go for a relaxing weekend and end up in a scene straight out of a dramedy. You handled your beachside discovery with the finesse of an actor dodging the paparazzi, but it seems that unscripted moment is now casting a shadow on your professional life.
Visualize your next encounter: the air is clear, the tension is gone, and you’re back to being a dynamic duo. What can you do to make that happen?
Let’s consider this: what if you defuse the situation with a bit of humor and honesty? It’s possible your agent did spot you, and now he’s in his own head, wondering if you’re judging him. You could clear the air with a lighthearted approach—mention your Provincetown trip casually in your next meeting, maybe even throw in a playful wink. It could signal that you’re not holding it against him, and that you’re ready to move on.
If that feels too bold, focus on reaffirming your professional relationship. Remind him how much you value his work. Sometimes, a little reassurance can thaw even the iciest vibes.
Here’s to keeping things professional—and maybe adding a little playful flair,
Remy
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Remy Blumenfeld is a veteran TV producer and founder of Vitality Guru, which offers business and career coaching to high performers in media. Send queries to: guru@vitality.guru.
Questions edited by Sarah Mills.