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.
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