"I think we should just give it up" said casually Chris, "this is clearly out of our reach." I shot him a disapproving glare and then turned to look at the reactions of the rest of the group. Sure enough, they did not seem very confident, either. After all, they had just discovered that the 10-minute animation competition we had decided to take part in was actually a very prestigious 10-minute animation competition. The past winners had always submitted works of professional, or near-professional quality. How could the amateur (inspired, entertaining, lovingly-made but amateur nonetheless) work of a handful of high-schoolers possibly compete?
But I insisted. We were talented and motivated guys, and who knew what could happen in the future? It was worth a try. We could hope. In the end, I managed to convince my fellow animators and we started discussing the project. I saw Chris shake his head. He clearly thought there was no way we could have made it.
Eight months later, we found out he was right. Our "Little Black Riding Hood" did not rank in the first three places. It did not even recieve a honorable mention. Had we just been wasting the considerable time and effort poured into our short movie, then? Were we naïve and foolish in wanting to partecipate in a competition we knew we had very few possibilities of winning? Should we have followed Matteo's advice and abandoned the project?
Personally, I do not regret it. I do not regret having the chance to learn to work together with people I had never met before, to understand and cooperate with very different individuals, to share opinions and responsibilities, worry and satisfaction, joy and sorrow. I do not regret it, because I am proud of the work we did. And that is what is most important for me, more than any prize or competition.
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