a break in the clouds?

Tonight my son and I saw "College Road Trip" with Martin Lawrence and Raven Simone. Being that we were two of a smattering of folks in the theatre, this naughty monkey (despite the stern warning from Kung Fu Panda) took the opportunity to read email via Palm. That’s when I saw a message from my mentor, a career screenwriter living in Los Angeles (we met about a year and a half ago at a conference. This guy has written movies that you can find at Blockbuster with A list talent attached). He said he had a "harebrained notion" that he wanted to float past me and what was my phone number and a good time to call me. Too excited to breathe, I called my husband after the movie, totally stoked. He said "Don’t get your hopes up too high. What if he just wants you to proof something for him"? Fair play, but the man lives in L.A., meaning he could swing a well-fed tabby and hit ten writers more talented/more experienced/ better connected than me. Still, we practiced my "poker voice"- where I try not to sound too disappointed in whatever he told me that wasn't nearly as cool as I'd built it up in my mind.

Naturally, I wrote Mr. Mentor back with my phone number and an open invite to call anytime (well, anytime between 0530 and 2300). He hasn’t called me yet and I’m too excited to sleep. He may very well want me to proof something for him. But he may also want me to meet his/an agent or work with him on a project. If this leads to legitimate Hollywood work, I will flip the hell out.

So this Sunday night finds me anxiously awaiting word about my drug dealer short, as well as a phone call from the bowels of the belly of the Hollywood beast. This week is going to freaking rock!!