After I received the notes from the manager yesterday about Mixtape, I was on cloud 9. My husband was there when I received the comments and he was excited for me. I also wanted to share my wonderful news with my friends, so I called the usual suspects.
Answering machines all around.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Thursday, August 28, 2008
jealous punks can't stop my dunks
AWESOME DAY!!!
The only way I can describe the way I feel now is FLOATING! I just got an email from a manager in Los Angeles who has read my script and asked me if I wanted to receive notes on it. This is big! Why? Because it flies in the face of everything I have been told up to this point about screenwriting. First, I have been told that nobody reads query letters and/or agents and managers don't want to talk to anybody who doesn't have big time production credits. I got in touch with this manager via query letter and phone. Not only did he respond to my emails, but he has actually read the script and is offering notes. Woo-hoo!
Next, I was told to move out to Los Angeles to get anything done. Wrong again. With the Internet, I've been able to form and maintain relationships with producers and directors. These relationships have resulted in work being published, produced, and filmed. It may not mean a lot to some people, but to me, it's important.
I just received an email from the manager. He said that, although he's going to have to "pass" on the script (Hollywood speak for "no, thanks"), he'll provide the notes. He did say that he liked the script and, with rewrites, he'd gladly take a look at it as his contacts will be more likely to buy off on another draft. Does this let a little of the wind out of my sails? Sure, but even receiving PROFESSIONAL STUDIO NOTES is awesome!
Also, I talked to my mentor today. I told him about the whole "notes" situation and he was happy for me. He looks like Evan Handler (actor who played Charlotte's Jewish husband on SATC), but is extremely talented and giving of his time. Anyway, he offered his congrats on moving a step closer to the goal and more of his time once I get on the ground in L.A. next month. I feel unstoppable.
Side note: I saw Tropic Thunder today. Go see it. Like now.
Just when I thought the day couldn't get any better, I just received a phone call from a company for a phone interview next Wednesday. Promising because I applied for the job YESTERDAY. Is this a good sign?
In short, the day has been fantastic and, for the first time in months, I'm looking forward to tomorrow.
The only way I can describe the way I feel now is FLOATING! I just got an email from a manager in Los Angeles who has read my script and asked me if I wanted to receive notes on it. This is big! Why? Because it flies in the face of everything I have been told up to this point about screenwriting. First, I have been told that nobody reads query letters and/or agents and managers don't want to talk to anybody who doesn't have big time production credits. I got in touch with this manager via query letter and phone. Not only did he respond to my emails, but he has actually read the script and is offering notes. Woo-hoo!
Next, I was told to move out to Los Angeles to get anything done. Wrong again. With the Internet, I've been able to form and maintain relationships with producers and directors. These relationships have resulted in work being published, produced, and filmed. It may not mean a lot to some people, but to me, it's important.
I just received an email from the manager. He said that, although he's going to have to "pass" on the script (Hollywood speak for "no, thanks"), he'll provide the notes. He did say that he liked the script and, with rewrites, he'd gladly take a look at it as his contacts will be more likely to buy off on another draft. Does this let a little of the wind out of my sails? Sure, but even receiving PROFESSIONAL STUDIO NOTES is awesome!
Also, I talked to my mentor today. I told him about the whole "notes" situation and he was happy for me. He looks like Evan Handler (actor who played Charlotte's Jewish husband on SATC), but is extremely talented and giving of his time. Anyway, he offered his congrats on moving a step closer to the goal and more of his time once I get on the ground in L.A. next month. I feel unstoppable.
Side note: I saw Tropic Thunder today. Go see it. Like now.
Just when I thought the day couldn't get any better, I just received a phone call from a company for a phone interview next Wednesday. Promising because I applied for the job YESTERDAY. Is this a good sign?
In short, the day has been fantastic and, for the first time in months, I'm looking forward to tomorrow.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
these is black problems
Today is just like the day before and the day before that. I woke up, got the Kid ready for school, walked him to the front doors and now I'm back home again.
I went on an interview last Friday. I'm confident that I got the job, but I have to wait two weeks to find anything out. In the meantime, my neighbor called me yesterday and I'm trying to figure out if I should be offended or not. Here's the deal: she asked me if I had found a job yet. I said no, but I'm applying everywhere that has something open for my qualifications. THEN, she started telling me about headhunters and that I need to call the places and all this other shit. Needless to say, I was like: hold the phone, turbo! You don't think I'm calling these bastards everyday? You don't think I know to apply in the morning so they see my resume first? I was more than a little angry. I mean, does she think I'm some slacker? Because I'm not. She doesn't know me or my plight or my situation. These are my problems! Black problems! Besides, I'm at home writing. But you can't say that in public unless your last name is Spielberg or something equally recognizable.
Practically speaking, being offended takes too much energy, so I'll just let that one go. I need my energy. My husband just returned from his trip early this morning and I'll be tending to my "wifely duties". Ha ha! Love the visual? Yeah, you're welcome.
Yesterday, I hit up the local library for a book on Southern Womanhood for research for "The Catch" (my newest romantic comedy). I hit a block when I realized that I was writing all this snazzy dialogue, but had no idea who the women were that were speaking. So, I thought about the setting and the characters and what would make it believable. What I came up with is a small town outside of Louisville, Kentucky and a woman named Miss Margaret Wolcott. Miss Margaret fancies herself a real Southern Belle (complete with a healthy addiction to prescription painkillers and gin) and will tell anyone who will listen that she's directly related to an original signer of the Declaration of Independence. The script is moving along quite nicely, I must say. This is the first screenplay I've tried to outline before laying it out in Final Draft.
Anyway, gotta go and apply for more jobs. Wish me luck!
I went on an interview last Friday. I'm confident that I got the job, but I have to wait two weeks to find anything out. In the meantime, my neighbor called me yesterday and I'm trying to figure out if I should be offended or not. Here's the deal: she asked me if I had found a job yet. I said no, but I'm applying everywhere that has something open for my qualifications. THEN, she started telling me about headhunters and that I need to call the places and all this other shit. Needless to say, I was like: hold the phone, turbo! You don't think I'm calling these bastards everyday? You don't think I know to apply in the morning so they see my resume first? I was more than a little angry. I mean, does she think I'm some slacker? Because I'm not. She doesn't know me or my plight or my situation. These are my problems! Black problems! Besides, I'm at home writing. But you can't say that in public unless your last name is Spielberg or something equally recognizable.
Practically speaking, being offended takes too much energy, so I'll just let that one go. I need my energy. My husband just returned from his trip early this morning and I'll be tending to my "wifely duties". Ha ha! Love the visual? Yeah, you're welcome.
Yesterday, I hit up the local library for a book on Southern Womanhood for research for "The Catch" (my newest romantic comedy). I hit a block when I realized that I was writing all this snazzy dialogue, but had no idea who the women were that were speaking. So, I thought about the setting and the characters and what would make it believable. What I came up with is a small town outside of Louisville, Kentucky and a woman named Miss Margaret Wolcott. Miss Margaret fancies herself a real Southern Belle (complete with a healthy addiction to prescription painkillers and gin) and will tell anyone who will listen that she's directly related to an original signer of the Declaration of Independence. The script is moving along quite nicely, I must say. This is the first screenplay I've tried to outline before laying it out in Final Draft.
Anyway, gotta go and apply for more jobs. Wish me luck!
Sunday, August 24, 2008
listen closely 'cuz I don't say this too often
I miss my husband. That's right, I said it. I miss him. He's been gone for almost three weeks. I miss having somebody to talk to. There's no point in whining about it, though- he'll be home whenever he gets home, but I'm just saying.
Enough of that. Here's what's been going on for the past three days: I got a message from Raytheon saying that I wasn't hired for any of the positions that I interviewed for. Bastards. They waited three months to tell me that shit. I had an interview with another government contractor last Friday. I wasn't too excited about it simply because of what happened with Raytheon. If I do get this other job, it'll be nice, but the commute will be brutal (1 hour both ways). Oh well. Yesterday, I spent most of the day watching The Twilight Zone. Years and years ago, my husband bought me a Twilight Zone box set (Collection 3- about 40 episodes). I've watched all but about twelve of them, so I got stuck in yesterday afternoon. Every time I watch an episode of The Twilight Zone (or in later years, Night Gallery), I'm struck by the crispness of the writing. To be fair, a lot of the episodes echo the same themes but with the execution, you rarely notice. Earlier this year, I entered the Rod Serling Night Gallery playwriting contest. I didn't get in, but I'm thinking about entering again next year.
Have I told you how excited I am about L.A. next month? My sister and I are signed up for a tour of the Los Angeles Film School (free) and a taping of the sitcom "According to Jim" (also free). That's poetic justice for you. I can't STAND that freaking show, but it would be an invaluable experience to watch a sitcom being shot, what's considered funny enough to be on television, what can or cannot be done blocking wise, and how many sets are used per episode.
I'm watching Bobby Flay's cooking show and it's putting me in the mood to revisit "Cooking with Bixby and Kenzo". I loved that script, but the execution could have been better. I'm gonna go and take a look at it right now...
Enough of that. Here's what's been going on for the past three days: I got a message from Raytheon saying that I wasn't hired for any of the positions that I interviewed for. Bastards. They waited three months to tell me that shit. I had an interview with another government contractor last Friday. I wasn't too excited about it simply because of what happened with Raytheon. If I do get this other job, it'll be nice, but the commute will be brutal (1 hour both ways). Oh well. Yesterday, I spent most of the day watching The Twilight Zone. Years and years ago, my husband bought me a Twilight Zone box set (Collection 3- about 40 episodes). I've watched all but about twelve of them, so I got stuck in yesterday afternoon. Every time I watch an episode of The Twilight Zone (or in later years, Night Gallery), I'm struck by the crispness of the writing. To be fair, a lot of the episodes echo the same themes but with the execution, you rarely notice. Earlier this year, I entered the Rod Serling Night Gallery playwriting contest. I didn't get in, but I'm thinking about entering again next year.
Have I told you how excited I am about L.A. next month? My sister and I are signed up for a tour of the Los Angeles Film School (free) and a taping of the sitcom "According to Jim" (also free). That's poetic justice for you. I can't STAND that freaking show, but it would be an invaluable experience to watch a sitcom being shot, what's considered funny enough to be on television, what can or cannot be done blocking wise, and how many sets are used per episode.
I'm watching Bobby Flay's cooking show and it's putting me in the mood to revisit "Cooking with Bixby and Kenzo". I loved that script, but the execution could have been better. I'm gonna go and take a look at it right now...
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
swingset epiphany
Several weeks ago, my husband I took our son to the playground for some quality family time. My son headed for the swingset while my husband and I headed for the soccer fields. After a few minutes, my eight year old son cried out that he couldn't swing himself and he needed "help" (code for too lazy to do it myself. Honestly, how do you "help" someone swing without actually pushing them? Anyway...), so I threw the bullshit flag and kept practicing my corners. When I looked over at the Kid, he was swinging himself. That's when I thought "Hmm. This must be what God feels like when I'm complaining about not being able to do something when I am, in fact, doing it."
I may not be as high as I want to be, but my legs are swinging and that's enough.
I may not be as high as I want to be, but my legs are swinging and that's enough.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Hero Coalition production today
I've gotta hand it to my sister- she might know how to pick 'em. When I asked her to read "Mixtape", I braced myself for the questions: What's going on? Why is his name Romo? et. al. but none of that came. Instead, it was a hysterical laughter and the proclamation that this was my best screenplay yet. Hmm. I didn't necessarily agree, but as I write this, I have received a second request to read the whole script. I'm mailing it off as soon as I finish this blog. When in L.A., I'm meeting with the "Damn Tracy" readers, but if I can generate some "heat" (loving that word, can you tell?) for "Mixtape" that would be fantastic. I just have this overarching feeling that my time is running short. Don't ask me why. I may just be losing my mind.
A short of mine is being produced by a company L.A. this morning and uploaded onto their website. This local show's premise is a la "Who's Line Is It Anyway" where actors show up that morning, get the script and act it out without prior rehearsal. Usually, the writers are in the studio to answer questions and generally participate, but since I live in Texas- get this!- they are hiring an actor to play me! I'll get credit, of course, but this person will sit in using my name and everything. It's a small production and viewable only from their website. The larger question is: will they know how to pronounce "their" last name?? But, how's that for "reality" and "live" television? The producer called me this morning at 2:00am to discuss the premise. He was extremely gracious and promised to send me the DVD copy of the production. How exciting!
The short I sent them was a piece of a never-to-be-finished screenplay about superheroes. The scene is five pages long, has roles for six actors (five male, one female) and takes place in one room. They're all over-the-hill superheroes renegotiating their contract with their agent. It's one of those pieces that was amusing to me, but probably not all that marketable. There are quite a few of those that I keep around to cannibalize when opportunities like this arise. "Suburban Psycho" was the same way- part of a larger, unfinished project.
Gotta run to the post office and mail this script. Wish me luck!
A short of mine is being produced by a company L.A. this morning and uploaded onto their website. This local show's premise is a la "Who's Line Is It Anyway" where actors show up that morning, get the script and act it out without prior rehearsal. Usually, the writers are in the studio to answer questions and generally participate, but since I live in Texas- get this!- they are hiring an actor to play me! I'll get credit, of course, but this person will sit in using my name and everything. It's a small production and viewable only from their website. The larger question is: will they know how to pronounce "their" last name?? But, how's that for "reality" and "live" television? The producer called me this morning at 2:00am to discuss the premise. He was extremely gracious and promised to send me the DVD copy of the production. How exciting!
The short I sent them was a piece of a never-to-be-finished screenplay about superheroes. The scene is five pages long, has roles for six actors (five male, one female) and takes place in one room. They're all over-the-hill superheroes renegotiating their contract with their agent. It's one of those pieces that was amusing to me, but probably not all that marketable. There are quite a few of those that I keep around to cannibalize when opportunities like this arise. "Suburban Psycho" was the same way- part of a larger, unfinished project.
Gotta run to the post office and mail this script. Wish me luck!
Saturday, August 16, 2008
a day in the life of a "working" writer
7:30am- Wake up with St. Olaf story on tap. Hmm. Am I insane? Open one eye. No, not crazy, just fallen asleep watching Golden Girls again. Close one eye.
8:00am- Kid shoving a spaceship made of LEGOs up my nose. Open both eyes, tell him it's fantastic and promise to upload it to his LEGO club website. He leaves. Check email via Palm. Sister wrote me a message last night, saying that "Juno" was totally overwritten. Grow misty-eyed, hop in the shower, totally validated.
8:15- Real world intrudes. Receive screening questions for a job (what are my salary requirements? when can I start?). Write back answers, try not to get hopes up.
8:15 to 10:00- Talk to sister about her designs. She sends me sketches, they rock and I tell her so. Get an email from a fellow writer I met in San Diego two years ago. His book is doing well and he's gonna be on "Inside Edition" tonight. Set the DVR, then write him a congratulatory email. Kick myself: How come I'm not on Inside Edition, damn it?
10:00 to 11:30ish- Check mandy.com, craigslist, nycplaywrights.com, et. al. for writing opportunities. Nothing new in the states, but a producer in the UK is looking for short scripts. Email producer, ask if he's accepting scripts from the U.S. and what specific genre he's looking for. Eat trail mix. So delicious. Receive email from a writing contest: I made the entry fee check out to the wrong person and can I resend? Write back: Sure.
11:30ish to 3:00- Take the Kid bowling. Watch the George Lopez show. Run two miles. Do some elevated pushups. Upload LEGO pics to Kid's website. Eat more trail mix. Heavenly. Notice that it's almost one o'clock Los Angeles time. Tie on imaginary Kung Fu headband, squint determined into imaginary sunset. Time to boogie, grasshoppa.
3:00 to 5:00-Crack open the Representation Directory, call. Get blown off. L.A. Jerk tells me that nobody will EVER buy my pilot until I've got real credits, then hangs up. Eat a spoonful of cookie dough and call sister for moral support. Get back on the phone to Los Angeles. Talk to two assistants who give me hope. Send three email queries. Receive an email from a playhouse in Los Angeles: Can you resend your play as .pdf? Email her back: I can only .rtf word docs and is this okay? She writes back: That's fine, thanxx! :-) Get excited because Steven Spielberg is on the board of directors for the theatre. Is he reading my play?
That's it. Of course, I left out all the boring stuff (drinking three bottles of water a day, peeing like a diabetic racehorse and random sets of bicep curls), but those are the main points. Tomorrow will be church, script rewrites and more trail mix.
8:00am- Kid shoving a spaceship made of LEGOs up my nose. Open both eyes, tell him it's fantastic and promise to upload it to his LEGO club website. He leaves. Check email via Palm. Sister wrote me a message last night, saying that "Juno" was totally overwritten. Grow misty-eyed, hop in the shower, totally validated.
8:15- Real world intrudes. Receive screening questions for a job (what are my salary requirements? when can I start?). Write back answers, try not to get hopes up.
8:15 to 10:00- Talk to sister about her designs. She sends me sketches, they rock and I tell her so. Get an email from a fellow writer I met in San Diego two years ago. His book is doing well and he's gonna be on "Inside Edition" tonight. Set the DVR, then write him a congratulatory email. Kick myself: How come I'm not on Inside Edition, damn it?
10:00 to 11:30ish- Check mandy.com, craigslist, nycplaywrights.com, et. al. for writing opportunities. Nothing new in the states, but a producer in the UK is looking for short scripts. Email producer, ask if he's accepting scripts from the U.S. and what specific genre he's looking for. Eat trail mix. So delicious. Receive email from a writing contest: I made the entry fee check out to the wrong person and can I resend? Write back: Sure.
11:30ish to 3:00- Take the Kid bowling. Watch the George Lopez show. Run two miles. Do some elevated pushups. Upload LEGO pics to Kid's website. Eat more trail mix. Heavenly. Notice that it's almost one o'clock Los Angeles time. Tie on imaginary Kung Fu headband, squint determined into imaginary sunset. Time to boogie, grasshoppa.
3:00 to 5:00-Crack open the Representation Directory, call. Get blown off. L.A. Jerk tells me that nobody will EVER buy my pilot until I've got real credits, then hangs up. Eat a spoonful of cookie dough and call sister for moral support. Get back on the phone to Los Angeles. Talk to two assistants who give me hope. Send three email queries. Receive an email from a playhouse in Los Angeles: Can you resend your play as .pdf? Email her back: I can only .rtf word docs and is this okay? She writes back: That's fine, thanxx! :-) Get excited because Steven Spielberg is on the board of directors for the theatre. Is he reading my play?
That's it. Of course, I left out all the boring stuff (drinking three bottles of water a day, peeing like a diabetic racehorse and random sets of bicep curls), but those are the main points. Tomorrow will be church, script rewrites and more trail mix.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
script request
One more thing...this morning, I woke up and had a request for my old-ladies-fighting-the-city-over-eminent-domain script! I just answered the call for scripts yesterday, so this is pretty sweet. The company was seeking "urban themed feature film scripts that are romantic comedy or comedy/drama". They've got the funding, crew and funding (it bears repeating) in place and are waiting for the perfect script. They're going to start preproduction before the end of this year/ early 2009. Great news, eh? I'll keep you posted.
the fable- revisited
I've got it! My personal fable is going to look something like this: Delafantastika has always wanted to be a writer, but was never in the right place at the right time. Splitting her childhood between Europe and Texas, she never quite made it out to California. When she married a man whose job takes the family from state to state, she thought she'd never make it to L.A. Still, she kept writing thinking that she didn't have "a reason to go yet". One day, she made up her mind and, with $1000 dollars and her MacBook, she descended on Los Angeles in September of 2008.
So, it's cheesy and I left out a whole gaggle of stuff, but that's what personal fables are, right? The honest truth with all the honest trimmed off?
Yesterday was a BOSS writing day! I called twelve agents and managers to see who was reading T.V. pilots and would you know that I wasn't hung up on once? In fact, only two people were abrupt (meaning they hung up before I did). I've got quite a few more agents and managers to call today, but I wanted to take time this morning to record what happened next! I called a manager and he said that he's reading specs. I told him that I was moving to Los Angeles on the 19th (not quite a lie; I'll just be moving right back on the 21st), so if he'd like to meet or something then I'd be available. There was the world's longest pause and then he said, "The 19th? What's your name?" I told him I was The Delafantastika and he said "thanks" and hung up. So, do we have a meeting? I dunno, but I'm gonna call him as soon as I hit the ground in Los Angeles. My goal is to have two "meetings" during my trip.
www.tvtickets.com has free audience tickets for folks wanting to watch the taping of a television show. I'm gonna see if I can catch a taping while I'm in town. I think it would be great to watch how it's put together. It would at least give me some insight on the set limitations I should be writing around.
Life is good today.
So, it's cheesy and I left out a whole gaggle of stuff, but that's what personal fables are, right? The honest truth with all the honest trimmed off?
Yesterday was a BOSS writing day! I called twelve agents and managers to see who was reading T.V. pilots and would you know that I wasn't hung up on once? In fact, only two people were abrupt (meaning they hung up before I did). I've got quite a few more agents and managers to call today, but I wanted to take time this morning to record what happened next! I called a manager and he said that he's reading specs. I told him that I was moving to Los Angeles on the 19th (not quite a lie; I'll just be moving right back on the 21st), so if he'd like to meet or something then I'd be available. There was the world's longest pause and then he said, "The 19th? What's your name?" I told him I was The Delafantastika and he said "thanks" and hung up. So, do we have a meeting? I dunno, but I'm gonna call him as soon as I hit the ground in Los Angeles. My goal is to have two "meetings" during my trip.
www.tvtickets.com has free audience tickets for folks wanting to watch the taping of a television show. I'm gonna see if I can catch a taping while I'm in town. I think it would be great to watch how it's put together. It would at least give me some insight on the set limitations I should be writing around.
Life is good today.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
the fable
I just read an interesting story in Creative Screenwriting magazine. Apparently, there's an ex-convict who just sold his very first spec script ("spec" script is a script written on "speculation"- that is, nobody is paying you to write it). Earlier today, I read about how Niecey Nash (my imaginary best friend from Clean House) got into show business. She called a casting director that she had auditioned for previously and said something like, "You probably don't remember me, but I'm Niecey Nash. I have a baby now and I need a job". Next thing you know, she's got paying work on the big screen.
What will be my fable?
What will be my fable?
Sunday, August 10, 2008
new ventures
In the past 24 or so hours or so, I completed a draft of a short script tentatively called "Name That Tune" and half an outline for a web series for which I had a "brilliant" idea. I'd originally thought that I could have the series scripted, shot, edited and ready to submit before the IFC Web Series contest deadline, but that may not happen. There's no script, no actors and no video camera. That pretty much puts the kibbosh on any contest plans. Still, I do plan to eventually script and shoot the pilot. Next week, the Apple store is giving a class on using movie making software and I'll be there soaking up as much as I can.
As you can see, my newest interest is short film making. Why wait for somebody else to share my vision and be responsible for the finished product? Most of my shorts involve no more than three characters and one indoor location (convenient, as I can control the lighting). I found a video camera with a built-in USB port ($149) that I can use for starters.
Completely off topic- a film company in London is looking for ten minute dramas to shoot in October. Not one to let an opportunity slip away, I'm sending in my outline after I finish this blog. Yours truly happens to have penned a thirty minute drama about a woman who believes that she was the lead singer of a '60s girl group. I'm well aware that thirty and ten are two different sums, but I believe I can chop up the script and cobble together a logical ten minute piece out of it. This is low budget, though, so right away I've gotta get rid of the airplane crash and flashback elements. I'll focus on what happens at the psychiatrist's office. Wow! I've almost got my outline already! Who said blogging was a waste of time..?
As you can see, my newest interest is short film making. Why wait for somebody else to share my vision and be responsible for the finished product? Most of my shorts involve no more than three characters and one indoor location (convenient, as I can control the lighting). I found a video camera with a built-in USB port ($149) that I can use for starters.
Completely off topic- a film company in London is looking for ten minute dramas to shoot in October. Not one to let an opportunity slip away, I'm sending in my outline after I finish this blog. Yours truly happens to have penned a thirty minute drama about a woman who believes that she was the lead singer of a '60s girl group. I'm well aware that thirty and ten are two different sums, but I believe I can chop up the script and cobble together a logical ten minute piece out of it. This is low budget, though, so right away I've gotta get rid of the airplane crash and flashback elements. I'll focus on what happens at the psychiatrist's office. Wow! I've almost got my outline already! Who said blogging was a waste of time..?
Saturday, August 9, 2008
not a word...
Yesterday, it was so freeing to not write that this morning, I thought, "why rock the boat"? Really. Except for this blog, I haven't written a thing all day. But the day was not wasted...I spent the afternoon downtown perusing the antique shops and eating flavored popcorn. I love antique shops- anything from the 1950s and early 60s gives me an imaginary chubby. Today I bought a book called "In Training" that was intended to be a coming-of-age, "this is what's happening to your body" manual for teenagers. It was from 1943 and spent about nine pages talking about the evils of self-abuse or what we now know as masturbation. Tee-hee. It would be totally laughable if it wasn't written by an M.D.
Big ups to my sister!! She made it past the first set of gatekeepers for a whiz-bang fashion school scholarship. Woo-hoo! Big thangs poppin, indeed. Speaking of big things, (usually I would segue into a comment about my thighs, but not tonight. See how far we've come??) I received a note today from the agent reading Mixtape. It was a nice note, just letting me know that they have received my screenplay. So professional and very appreciated.
The city paper never contacted me. Guess I wasn't on their short list of potential food writers. *sigh*
Enough of this vacation. I need to get back into the writing thing again. It just seems that whenever I sit down to the keyboard, I want to go to sleep or start crying uncontrollably. What the hell is wrong with me? Writer's block? Pshaw. I would kill for writer's block. I don't know what this is, but it's unproductive and silly. Resolved: I will write tomorrow. Even if I'm typing through tears, it must be done.
Big ups to my sister!! She made it past the first set of gatekeepers for a whiz-bang fashion school scholarship. Woo-hoo! Big thangs poppin, indeed. Speaking of big things, (usually I would segue into a comment about my thighs, but not tonight. See how far we've come??) I received a note today from the agent reading Mixtape. It was a nice note, just letting me know that they have received my screenplay. So professional and very appreciated.
The city paper never contacted me. Guess I wasn't on their short list of potential food writers. *sigh*
Enough of this vacation. I need to get back into the writing thing again. It just seems that whenever I sit down to the keyboard, I want to go to sleep or start crying uncontrollably. What the hell is wrong with me? Writer's block? Pshaw. I would kill for writer's block. I don't know what this is, but it's unproductive and silly. Resolved: I will write tomorrow. Even if I'm typing through tears, it must be done.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
one down, two to go
This happens all the time! It's like a damned omen or something! So, earlier I wrote that I hadn't heard anything from any of the agents. Well, I got home today from a particularly stimulating trip to the North Texas Historical Museum (sidebar- it's politically correct now to call them "farm" as opposed to "plantations") and what did I have waiting for me but a rejection from one of the agents. Although Lucas Donovan was "very entertaining and well-written", they would have to pass on it. Oh well. One agent down, two more to go.
Still thinking about my rewrites. I took the day off writing to do some museum jaunting and wrap my mind around all the different ideas. Anyway, I was so taken with the community that surrounded the museum that I'm going back tomorrow (sans 3 inch heels, mind) to visit all the quaint antique shops and old fashioned ice cream parlors. Another sidebar- I love mid-century architecture and this town had a lot to offer.
My husband's idea of comedy is very basic. Sometime I wonder if he "gets" the funny in my scripts. Maybe he doesn't like it at all. Or maybe my funny isn't funny, but I'm telling myself that it is so forwardly funny that nobody gets it.
Still thinking about my rewrites. I took the day off writing to do some museum jaunting and wrap my mind around all the different ideas. Anyway, I was so taken with the community that surrounded the museum that I'm going back tomorrow (sans 3 inch heels, mind) to visit all the quaint antique shops and old fashioned ice cream parlors. Another sidebar- I love mid-century architecture and this town had a lot to offer.
My husband's idea of comedy is very basic. Sometime I wonder if he "gets" the funny in my scripts. Maybe he doesn't like it at all. Or maybe my funny isn't funny, but I'm telling myself that it is so forwardly funny that nobody gets it.
producer's notes
This morning, I received a notice in my inbox through infolist.com that some L.A. theatre company is looking for one-act plays. The theatre company boasts board members like Steven Spielberg and Neil Simon (famous playwright- not Paul's brother), so I'm uneasy about sending in my play about the amateur phone sex actresses, but whatever. Hopefully, Spielberg will just reject it and not sic animatronic dinosaurs on me.
So, last night I turned in my rewrite on the short. This morning, I had the notes in my inbox. The producer first off thanked me for all the hard work, and then proceeded to verbally ass rape the script. My feelings are hurt, but this business isn't about feelings; it's about product. Anyway, the script felt "rushed and one-note" and I was "telling, not showing". Ouch. The comments sting, but I've got no choice but to get stuck in. I keep telling myself that this is only a short and when I start receiving studio comments, the same thing is going to happen. Except it'll be in person and instead of one page, it'll be a novella of shit that doesn't work. It's kinda like giving birth to a big headed baby. It's over now, so swallow the Big Girl pill, massage your stretched asshole and get back to work.
Still no job. Still no word about my full manuscripts. I'm a little more than nervous about my scripts floating around out there. I mean, they're copyrighted and registered, but there's still the off chance that they could get ripped off, you know? Ahem...CAMERON CROWE and his "original" script for "Elizabethtown".
Ah, but bitterness is a dish to be enjoyed alone, so I'll sign off. Gotta go find the comedic timing in this movie. Comedic timing? Come out, come out, wherever you are...
So, last night I turned in my rewrite on the short. This morning, I had the notes in my inbox. The producer first off thanked me for all the hard work, and then proceeded to verbally ass rape the script. My feelings are hurt, but this business isn't about feelings; it's about product. Anyway, the script felt "rushed and one-note" and I was "telling, not showing". Ouch. The comments sting, but I've got no choice but to get stuck in. I keep telling myself that this is only a short and when I start receiving studio comments, the same thing is going to happen. Except it'll be in person and instead of one page, it'll be a novella of shit that doesn't work. It's kinda like giving birth to a big headed baby. It's over now, so swallow the Big Girl pill, massage your stretched asshole and get back to work.
Still no job. Still no word about my full manuscripts. I'm a little more than nervous about my scripts floating around out there. I mean, they're copyrighted and registered, but there's still the off chance that they could get ripped off, you know? Ahem...CAMERON CROWE and his "original" script for "Elizabethtown".
Ah, but bitterness is a dish to be enjoyed alone, so I'll sign off. Gotta go find the comedic timing in this movie. Comedic timing? Come out, come out, wherever you are...
Monday, August 4, 2008
exhausted options
I shouldn't say this because I'm sure you're tired of listening, but I don't care. I maintain this space to unload things that are- for the most part- socially unacceptable to voice. For those of you who know me, you are well aware that my moods can be rapid cycling, to say the least. Today is a down day. Well, that's a little misleading. The past three months have been a down day, with slight spots of happiness. We're now in August and nothing has changed. I'm still unemployed. I'm still fat. I'm still without agent. I have friends, but they're stay at home moms who wouldn't understand my almost physical need to work every day. I spent the entire day laying in front of the television watching Bargain Hunt and eating nachos. That's not entirely true; I did edit the short script that's due on Wednesday. Nine pages. Big whoop.
The day started off terribly. I got a call from one of my good friends who is a recruiter for a Fortune 500 company for which I'd worked for years. I asked her to research a couple of positions for me that were advertising in Dallas. As it turns out, they aren't hiring for those positions until October and the positions are in SAN ANTONIO! Why the hell did the notice say "DALLAS", then?!?? So, I'm back at square one trying to find a job. It's depressing, especially when I'm sitting in my home office staring at my B.S. and my M.A. sitting side by side. Lots of flipping good they're doing me now.
I haven't received any word back from agents, managers or anything in weeks. This, too, is depressing. Ya'll, it's a quarter to seven and I'm ready to throw in the towel. Not just taking a shower, either. I mean, I'm ready to just lay down and die. I think I'm ready now. I've been a good human being for a long time now and I'm pretty confident that I will go to heaven (so long as I don't off myself on purpose). My husband and my son don't need me, the literary community doesn't know who I am and my Mastercard has protection on it so my balance will be forgiven in the event of my death. See? I'm all prepped and ready to go.
My husband just came in and told me that he loves me, which made me cry even harder. He thinks I'm a basket case. Maybe I am. But if I was, then I'd be revered as the next Hunter S. Thompson, right? Except that I'm just a chubby nobody sitting in Nowhere, TX.
When I was an impressionable little Catholic, I used to believe that God had chosen me for something special. Maybe it was all those hours I spent cooped up in a prayer closet that was messing with my mind, but I did. I believed that I was a "chosen" one. I believed that I could hear him speaking to me and that my steps were literally ordered by him. As I've gotten older, I find myself wondering why He allows me to feel so badly. Yeah, I know that my sadness is nowhere near, say, Jesus, but for a mortal, I'm feeling a little worse for wear. Times like this is when I lean so heavily on Him, that I'm just glad He's not as fickle or impatient as me.
I'm tired. I'm going to brush my teeth (I'm not gonna bleach tonight. What's the point?) and then go to bed. This is gonna be my last blog for awhile.
The day started off terribly. I got a call from one of my good friends who is a recruiter for a Fortune 500 company for which I'd worked for years. I asked her to research a couple of positions for me that were advertising in Dallas. As it turns out, they aren't hiring for those positions until October and the positions are in SAN ANTONIO! Why the hell did the notice say "DALLAS", then?!?? So, I'm back at square one trying to find a job. It's depressing, especially when I'm sitting in my home office staring at my B.S. and my M.A. sitting side by side. Lots of flipping good they're doing me now.
I haven't received any word back from agents, managers or anything in weeks. This, too, is depressing. Ya'll, it's a quarter to seven and I'm ready to throw in the towel. Not just taking a shower, either. I mean, I'm ready to just lay down and die. I think I'm ready now. I've been a good human being for a long time now and I'm pretty confident that I will go to heaven (so long as I don't off myself on purpose). My husband and my son don't need me, the literary community doesn't know who I am and my Mastercard has protection on it so my balance will be forgiven in the event of my death. See? I'm all prepped and ready to go.
My husband just came in and told me that he loves me, which made me cry even harder. He thinks I'm a basket case. Maybe I am. But if I was, then I'd be revered as the next Hunter S. Thompson, right? Except that I'm just a chubby nobody sitting in Nowhere, TX.
When I was an impressionable little Catholic, I used to believe that God had chosen me for something special. Maybe it was all those hours I spent cooped up in a prayer closet that was messing with my mind, but I did. I believed that I was a "chosen" one. I believed that I could hear him speaking to me and that my steps were literally ordered by him. As I've gotten older, I find myself wondering why He allows me to feel so badly. Yeah, I know that my sadness is nowhere near, say, Jesus, but for a mortal, I'm feeling a little worse for wear. Times like this is when I lean so heavily on Him, that I'm just glad He's not as fickle or impatient as me.
I'm tired. I'm going to brush my teeth (I'm not gonna bleach tonight. What's the point?) and then go to bed. This is gonna be my last blog for awhile.
Friday, August 1, 2008
updates
While reading through old blogs, I realized there were quite a few loose ends that needed tying up. So here goes:
1. Raytheon. I didn't get the job, but a higher position was posted two weeks later. A position that was more in line with my experience as a manager/executive. I applied for that one, but haven't heard anything. I also applied for twelve other various jobs in and around this burg. I plan to take the first one that comes along (and ditch it when Raytheon calls me) simply for a little positive cash flow.
2. Disney Fellowship. I finally finished something resembling a coherent Statement of Intent, packed it all up and sent it off just under deadline. Finalists for the fellowship will be notified in December of this year.
3. Nickelodeon Fellowship. Semi-finalists will be notified this month. Once upon a time, I was excited about it. Alas, that was before I a) knew that "Cavemen" was on CBS' sitcom chopping block and b) realized that my spec script for "Cavemen" was garbage.
4. Newspaper writing gigs. The human period panties from our local ghetto rag never wrote me back, but I'm not bitter. Mainly because the city paper was looking for a restaurant reviewer (full time, paid in real money). I did, in fact, mail off my resume, clips and cover letter. The package was mailed a whole twelve miles into the city, so I should hear something by the end of next week. Mind you, this is my deadline. They may end up being just as shady as the locals busters.
1. Raytheon. I didn't get the job, but a higher position was posted two weeks later. A position that was more in line with my experience as a manager/executive. I applied for that one, but haven't heard anything. I also applied for twelve other various jobs in and around this burg. I plan to take the first one that comes along (and ditch it when Raytheon calls me) simply for a little positive cash flow.
2. Disney Fellowship. I finally finished something resembling a coherent Statement of Intent, packed it all up and sent it off just under deadline. Finalists for the fellowship will be notified in December of this year.
3. Nickelodeon Fellowship. Semi-finalists will be notified this month. Once upon a time, I was excited about it. Alas, that was before I a) knew that "Cavemen" was on CBS' sitcom chopping block and b) realized that my spec script for "Cavemen" was garbage.
4. Newspaper writing gigs. The human period panties from our local ghetto rag never wrote me back, but I'm not bitter. Mainly because the city paper was looking for a restaurant reviewer (full time, paid in real money). I did, in fact, mail off my resume, clips and cover letter. The package was mailed a whole twelve miles into the city, so I should hear something by the end of next week. Mind you, this is my deadline. They may end up being just as shady as the locals busters.
laurels
Here's the deal with laurels and laps- where the hell are they??? Just like your lap disappears when you stand up, where the hell are your laurels? Or is "laurels" another word for butt cheeks? That's the only thing I can think of that one would rest upon that is plural. Well, maybe pillows...anyway, I'm working like a one legged slave on this rewrite. It's going a lot better than I thought it would. The hardest part was the first cut. Kinda like performing open heart surgery on your own child. You know they would be better for the surgery and you possess the skills, but damn if it's not hard to make that first cut.
I received a disturbing myspace message the other day from a friend. I told him that I want to move out to L.A., but I don't have a reason to because I don't know anyone out there. He wrote me back and said that, just by virtue of me being a writer, I need to have my chocolate self out there schmoozing and making contacts and getting my face out there. It was a difficult thing to hear because, well, it's the truth, damn it. I am doing okay from where I currently sit, but I know in my heart of hearts that if I were out in Los Angeles, I could get twice as much done. The truth hurts, ladies and gentlemen. The only thing that worries me about moving to Los Angeles is money. I don't have any and it takes a lot more than what I have to live day to day out there. Just my luck, I'd end up turning tricks for a spot in the "According to Jim" writer's room. Have you ever seen "According to Jim"? Ugh. Hardly worth a blow job.
Last month, I was a querying fool and send out over 100 queries and submissions. This month, I don't anticipate quite so many; I'm shooting for forty. That's only because I want to do the best job I possibly can on this rewrite. I really want this relationship with the producer to bear full-length feature fruit. And on that note, it's time for me to get back to the script.
I received a disturbing myspace message the other day from a friend. I told him that I want to move out to L.A., but I don't have a reason to because I don't know anyone out there. He wrote me back and said that, just by virtue of me being a writer, I need to have my chocolate self out there schmoozing and making contacts and getting my face out there. It was a difficult thing to hear because, well, it's the truth, damn it. I am doing okay from where I currently sit, but I know in my heart of hearts that if I were out in Los Angeles, I could get twice as much done. The truth hurts, ladies and gentlemen. The only thing that worries me about moving to Los Angeles is money. I don't have any and it takes a lot more than what I have to live day to day out there. Just my luck, I'd end up turning tricks for a spot in the "According to Jim" writer's room. Have you ever seen "According to Jim"? Ugh. Hardly worth a blow job.
Last month, I was a querying fool and send out over 100 queries and submissions. This month, I don't anticipate quite so many; I'm shooting for forty. That's only because I want to do the best job I possibly can on this rewrite. I really want this relationship with the producer to bear full-length feature fruit. And on that note, it's time for me to get back to the script.
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