updates, no chaser

1. The producer I was working with in L.A. has informed me that, for reasons known only to him, he may not be able to produce my short. No production, no payday. Could he have told me this sooner without me asking? Grr. Did I mention the way I'm feeling toward L.A. people nowadays?

2. Another small company I was working with told me last Friday that they, too, wouldn't be able to produce another short of mine. Seems a member of their team departed, leaving them without the means to produce any more stuff. So, contrary to popular belief, one monkey does indeed stop the show.

3. I'm becoming more of a hermit everyday. I've found that when I take a good, hard look at who I call my "friends" I must face facts that they aren't my friends at all. Friends listen when you talk to them, offer advice (or shut the hell up, but instinctively know which one at any given moment), and are there for you. I have a "friend" whom I've known forever that does none of these things. She calls me, talks at me and hangs up. I call her, she talks at me and hangs up. I don't need this shit.

4. Writing News! The top 50 Slamdance competition entries will be announced on Tuesday, 30 September. I'm really excited because mine made it to the second round already. If I make it to the Top 50, I will probably spontaneously defecate. You're digging that visual, I can tell.

5. Great strides have been made in the Responsibility Camp script. I'm on page 60ish and counting. Right now, I'm in the idea diarrhea stage; that is, anything and everything that I think might work in this story goes on the page. I've way more subplots than are needed and scenes are WAY out of order, but I have a feeling this is all gonna come out beautifully.

6. I'm putting off reworking "Kelly's Haven", but it must be done if I want Jeff Goldblum to play the villain. He's still a hottie, but aging like it's going out of style. Have you seen him lately? The faces on money look younger...

bad sandwiches aside...

In my myspace blog, I mostly talked about the negative that happened on the coast. What I forgot to tell you were the hilarious moments- and there were quite a few! First of all, the "According to Jim" taping. The show itself is pretty run-of-the-mill, but the comedian they had warming up the crowd? He was the real star! His name is Ron Pearson and he had me ROLLING! I wish I could see his act again. This fool told funny ass jokes, made fun of the foreigners in the crowd and, get this, juggled ping pong balls with his mouth! I know, I know. I'm missing a prime opportunity for a balls-in-the-mouth joke, but there's oh so much more.

At the taping, there was a woman without a bra on. However, she didn't have Baywatch breasts; the wild puppies were laying down flat against her flippin' stomach National Geographic style! I can't remember when I laughed so hard at somebody else's expense! To be fair, my own chocolate tube socks don't sit where they used to, but I also wear bras that have been superbly engineered. This woman, not only had her jungle boobies swinging in the wind, but she WOULD NOT SIT DOWN! Dude, she strutted up and down the audience area throughout the taping. Everytime I looked up, she was up, talking to somebody, laughing loud and just plain calling attention to herself. I'm still laughing...

Food-wise, it was almost as interesting. I ate an "alley dog"- a hot dog wrapped in freaking BACON- and it was wonderful going down. Tore my stomach up, but man! Was it worth it! By the time I got to the show taping, I was tired and a little peckish. So when the sandwiches and cookies were announced, my spirits lifted. Ha! That sandwich can best be described as "Misery with Mayonnaise". Terrible! The lettuce was so black it looked like kelp and the cheese was absolute shit. I would have been angry, had I not been laughing so hard.

When the cookies were passed down the row (I was sitting near the end), there were only two white chocolate macadamia nut cookies left (my very favorite cookie). Well, everybody was taking one cookie each until it got to this Middle Eastern bastard. He's not a bastard because he's from the Middle East, but because he took two cookies. And not just ANY two cookies- MY two cookies! The white chocos went straight from the tray into his greedy gob. After I didn't eat my bullshit sandwich, I was looking forward to my cookie. So, when Bastard McMannus stole my dessert, I was ready to fuck him up right.

Despite not being able to meet with folks, I had a wonderful time. Next time when I go back, I'll go for a week. Gotta go and work on my script. Did I tell you that I'm gonna win the 2010 Oscar for Best Original Screenplay? ;-)

not so normal, he says

I received my results back. Normal blood work, not so normal other stuff. I'm being referred to a gyno specialist. Do I have cooties? Cancer? Who knows?

Tomorrow I leave for Los Angeles. I'm happy to be going, but at the same time, unsure of what's going to happen. I know I have to see Boris and Warren, but what else? What if I don't like it? It also didn't help that I watched a special on 9/11 about a week ago. Watching the planes crash into the twin towers is an image that will stick with me long after I board for departure. Terrorist threats aside, I'm still packing and took a break to go to the ATM for travel money.

I talked to a friend earlier today. Lately, she's had this overwhelming sense of brokenness and she's not sure of the source. She's driving and all of a sudden starts to cry. So, she's bawling until about halfway home when a calm overtakes her. She eventually drives up into the garage and close the door and sits. Motor running, she sits until she become sleepy. Then she calmly turns off the car, opens the door and walks into the house. This isn't the first time she's done this. She has kids, a husband, a nice house, but she is so miserable within herself that she's not sure that she'll ever be whole again. What do you tell somebody like that? Is there anything you can say to make them feel better?

The next time I blog, I'll be blogging from sunny Los Angeles. I'll be sure to let you know how everything goes.

normal, he says

I went to the doctor today for the whole "Well Woman" appointment thing. The doctor claims I'm normal; I'm not so sure. I've gained two pounds, require Xanax for functioning and don't have diabetes or breast cancer. Still skeptical, but buoyed by that information, I headed to the mall to see what was up. I ended up stopping into Sephora where the very nice lady transformed my face into the visage of a drag queen. I also bought $70 worth of bullshit (including a generous sample of Chanel No. 5). I would have given in to guilt if it wasn't for a follow up interview with a company I'd previously interviewed with. After it was all said and done, the HR coordinator said she would call me within the next couple of days to let me know the scoop. I'm cautiously optimistic. After all, that's the same thing the bastard pole smokers at Raytheon and Titan told me.

Oh, yeah. I also discovered another reason this town freaks me out. Lesbians. There are none. There aren't any fat people, either. When I saw a fat lesbian at Walgreens, I almost kissed her, I was so happy. Of course, that may not have gone over well (her plaid wearing, mullet-rocking chick was standing dangerously close), but then again you never know. I'm cute and my haircut is mighty fierce.

Gotta go and feign normalcy...

more of the same

Such a shit day.

Received 747th job rejection this morning.

Not getting dressed. What the fuck's the point?

i hate this place

I hate this place. I hate the fact that I can't seem to find a freaking job. I hate my neighbors for being happy housewives, void of any goals in life other than procreation. I hate getting up in the morning. I hate the fact that my husband's resume and career continues to blossom as mine stalls. I hate the blondes, I hate the redheads. I hate flipflops. I hate the skinny minnies with the inflatable boobs and I especially hate fat women in workout clothes(if I wear a habit, does that make me a nun?). I hate that I have been turned down for at least FOUR jobs. I hate Raytheon. I hate white potatoes. I hate that my mother-in-law is a mean old crow and my husband refuses to see it. I hate that her husband doesn't punch her in the flippin' face. I hate that I'm a FREAKING HOUSEWIFE- the thing that I DESPISE. I freaking hate my life. I hate the lives of everyone around me for being better than mine. I hate my enormous sasquatch feet. I hate my back teeth. I hate the fact that I'm unintentionally slipping into verse...I hate the fact that I'm here and the newspaper people refuse to acknowledge my existence. I hate that I'm BORED AS SHIT. I hate the fact that I cry every doggone day. I hate that the most interesting thing that's happened in a while was the return of the McRib. I hate whining about stuff I hate.

I'm going to bed. I wonder what fun is in store for me tomorrow. Illness? Famine? Death? Five extra pounds. I'd rather have the death.

jive diarrhea

I began another project a couple of days ago. This one is a ten minute (or so) jobby that is a cross between The Twilight Zone and any Tyler Perry movie. I personally think it's gonna be the funniest thing I've ever written- totally over the top with no subtext whatsoever. Sometimes I just need to be silly. I've also almost finished my second "Mixtape" draft. All the extra scenes have been plugged in, now all I have to do is re-read to make none of them are dangling in mid-air. You know that old stage adage, "If you show a gun in Act One, make sure someone uses it by Act Three"? That's what I'm checking for- unused guns.

For the past few days, I've thankfully experienced a burst of creativity that resulted in "Mixtape" being completed, "Potty Mouth" submitted to half a dozen new festivals and my Twilight Zone play bearing fruit. I plan to finish my first draft of Twilight today and send it to one of my trusted readers for feedback. Can't remember if I told you this or not, but I've also started jotting down ideas for a sketch comedy show. Kinda an edgier version of "All That" or "The Roundhouse" (for those of you old enough to remember); that is, written for the tween/ teen market. I don't know what exactly I'll do with the idea. If nothing, I'll have a collection of shorts to sell, right? Man! This is what diarrhea of the brain must feel like.

It hasn't all been go-go-go. Yesterday I took a break from writing. Well, physical writing. I went to the library and checked out some books about southern womanhood for research. I spent a good part of the day taking notes on their phrases, speech patterns and customs. Don't laugh! I firmly believe that it breathes much more life into your characters when you do this vice peppering their speech with "ya'll" and calling it a day. Case in point: a character in "Mixtape" (a minor character, at that) is an old black man who speaks jive. Obscure, 60s-70s jive. I wrote his character in the first draft, then downloaded a jive dictionary and began substituting words. In my humble opinion, this made him- in all his minor character glory- jump off the page and make him memorable.

Talk about diarrhea! I've gotta stop typing or I'm gonna be burned out for later. Be easy.

how shady can a schadenfreunde get?

So, writer-friend du jour finished up at the writer's conference and called me last night at midnight to give me the skinny. As fate would have it, it's skinny, lean and all things in between. As it turns out, she did talk to the exec at Columbia Pictures. She even got his contact information, but he told her that he doesn't deal with people that a) don't have agents and b) he hasn't met face to face. This is totally understandable and the expected party line. What was NOT expected was schadenfreundin's response to me: "So I have his information and when you get an agent, I'll give it to you".

I know, huh? That's exactly what I thought.

Why didn't she just give me the info with that age-old girlfriend caveat, "But you didn't get/hear it from me". That is, if she has his contact information at all. She could be bluffing. What she doesn't know is that Mama has an imdb pro account where I can (who am I kidding? already have...) look up said exec's info and contact him myself. And I won't invoke the name of the schadenfreunde, as it will probably harm my cause.

The thing that really gets my goat is this: as trifling as she can be, I am genuinely excited for her success. I WANT her to finish her book, make a million dollars and embark on a worldwide book tour. I wish nothing but the best for her, because I know that, in some small part, I've helped along the way. Why can't she be the same? Why can't she just be happy for me or anybody else, for that matter? When I mentioned my upcoming L.A. trip, she said (real high falutin' like) "And who are you meeting with again"? I said, "Such-and-such management. The ones that provided the script notes. You know, the producers of the 'Halloween' franchise". Ya'll know me. I'm usually not into horn-tooting, but damn if the haters can argue with THAT shit.

Another nugget: while we were on the phone, she read the email I'd sent to my "Street Team" saying how my latest play will be onstage next month. The first thing out of her mouth was: "You let Elayne read it"?

Let's just break this down: Elayne reads in a timely manner; SF doesn't. I send Elayne 2-10 pages to read and she does so while on the phone with me and provides instant feedback, so I can get on with my revisions and my life. Once, I sent SF a ten minute jobby to critique and it took her a month to get back to me! Thirty doggone days and she wasn't even writing during that time!! Can you imagine how many contests/ entry opportunities I would have missed had I relied solely on her feedback? This is one of the reasons I use multiple readers.

In closing, I thought I was over the whole "I'm not giving you his contact info" thing, but I'm clearly not. However, "Mixtape" edits call. Side note: I've edited the script, noted where extra scenes are to be plugged and written said extra scenes. I anticipate sitting here until the wee hours knocking this baby out. And that I can do, with or without an executive's phone number.

hollywood rewrites

So, I've been reading and re-reading "Mixtape" to see where I can add, cut or clarify the story. After reading it until my eyes bled, I realized it comes down to three missing scenes and a couple of dialogue tweaks. I've since written one of the three missing scenes and my goal today is to finish the other two. Sure, they'll be in draft form, but it's difficult to edit something that isn't on the page.

My play was accepted to the Act One Series in San Antonio again! :-) If you remember, they were the ones that produced "Cleaver" in May. Anyway, I'm so excited! My parents and my brother-in-law went last time, but this will be the first play that my husband will see of mine. He did watch "Suburban Psycho" when I received the DVD, but there's nothing like watching your work live, you know? I used to wonder if he was just humoring me whenever I had something published or a movie made, but I don't think so anymore. He's footing the bill for my Los Angeles trip in two weeks (two *&^%ing weeks!!!) and when I found out about the whole "Dustpan" thing yesterday, he was right there with me, excited (well, as excited as he gets).

Gotta stop stalling and knock out these scenes.

look familiar?

irst of all, let me say that I rarely recognize holidays. Except for Christmas and Easter, they all seem like excuses to get out of work or stuff your face with barbeque. So, Labor Day finds me where I usually am- in the office, banging away at the keyboard hoping like heck that the inspiration fairies see fit to sprinkle a little magic on me.

In my last blog, I talked about how I didn't think I made it into this playwriting contest because I hadn't heard anything and casting was supposed to start in a couple of weeks. Well, scratch that. Yesterday, I received an email from the theatre saying that I had made it in, after all!!! Yay!!! I'm super stoked about this because it'll be the first time my husband gets to see my work on stage. He's seen the short film, but never a play.

Also, the five pounds I've gained have since gone away. That's right, ladies and gentlemen. Back on the pharmaceuticals and looking swell! I also levied a back-handed accusation at an acquaintance last time around saying that she probably won't come through for me at the writing conference. I was wrong again! She called yesterday and said that she ran into a Development Executive from Columbia Pictures and she told him about me and got his information for me. If she actually sends me the information, this could be big. Columbia and Sony are like Lucy and Ethel, Remus and Romulus, Deniro and Pachino- historically significant heavy hitters. She was in the middle of telling me about her cool experiences, but I saw a really cute purple dress in the window of Max Mara and had to cut the convo short. Does that make me a bad person?

As if yesterday couldn't get any more productive, I received an email from a theatre troupe based in Los Angeles. Seems they want to put on my short (and I mean short- 3 pages, yo) called "Dustpan". Okay, I know it sounds cheesy and there's a good reason for that: it is!!! But I'm excited to see it on stage anyway.