Ask Pappy #7: Some nights the house is empty, but the show still goes on.
- Pappy Hull
- Dec 14, 2025
- 2 min read
Reader Letter:
I make short films, but sometimes it feels like nobody’s watching. I’ll post something I worked on for months, and it gets a handful of likes — if that. How do you keep believing in your work when it feels like no one notices? — Rosa T.
Kid, if I waited for applause, I’d have retired back when VHS was still king.
Truth is, most of what we do in life — and in art — happens in the dark. You pour your heart into something, you sweat over it, you rewind and reshoot and rewrite until your eyes ache, and when it’s finally done? Nothing. No fanfare. Not even a polite golf clap. Just silence and the faint hum of the projector cooling off.
I know that silence well. I’ve screened some of my proudest reels to half-empty rooms. One time I even did a Q&A where the only question came from a janitor asking me to wrap it up so he could sweep.
But here’s what I learned and it took me a lifetime to learn it: you can’t build your worth on the sound of hands meeting. You build it on the act of showing up.
Every time you create something — a film, a poem, a song, a sandwich with personality — you’re declaring war on apathy. You’re saying, I was here, and I cared enough to make something real. That’s worth more than any applause.
The crowd might not notice, but the universe does. The reel keeps spinning, and one day, someone you’ve never met might stumble across your work and feel seen. You’ll never know it, but it’ll matter.
The applause is lovely, but fleeting. The work — that’s the thing that lasts. So keep threading that film, even when the seats are empty. Keep the booth light on, kid. You never know who’s out there watching from the shadows.
Stay kind, stay curious, and don’t spill the butter on your way out.— Pappy Hull, The Popcorn Philosopher










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