The Writer's Lot

Not much been going on since I been kickin it in New York. I mean there has, but since I'm ensconced in the dreamy chill of the city I haven't really had to pay all that much attention to my "career," such as it is, either here or in LA.

Life in Manhattan has been good, and I am glad to have been extended for these few more couple of weeks, although bedding on the brother's couch is growing more loathesome, the sleep more restless, and the routine increasingly discombobulating. I guess as good as a vacation from life can be, all good things must come to an end. To that point, I should discuss the ostensible subject of this blog, my life in showbiz.

These days, I have been sort of brushed aside as far as the current rewrite of my script is concerned. Early last week I got a call from the producers who asked for my blessing in assigning a new draft of the screenplay to the director. They felt the time was ripe for him to take a swing at achieving his vision. Now perhaps I have been numbed by the process, but I'm not as righteously indignant as perhaps you might think. I can sum up my feelings by quoting Bela Lugosi in Ed Wood. "Let's shoot this fucker." Seriously. If they think that getting him to make with the clackety-clack will hasten the process, God Bless. I sure am tired to death of flogging the horse's bloated carcass. Maybe he'll even bring some fresh insight to it. And I'll go one step further and be charitable; I think he'll do a good job. Might even improve it. Of course, he could never get it perfect because he's not me. But I don't expect perfection, only integrity (which I know is scarce in Hollywood, but go ahead... call me a naif). Above all the thing that lets me sleep at night is not faith, hope, or charity, but the iron-clad knowledge that there are too many checks and balances in place (the producers power to ameliorate grievances; my ability to dash the whole project by walking away) for all hope to be lost in some terrible new draft. Put simply, no matter how bad he might shit the bed, we can always clean it up.

So I say, good luck then. As long as no one fucks me on credit, no one fucks me out of having some say in the subsequent rewrites and polishes, and no one fucks me the whole way down the slippery slope, then I will be one secure, satisfied, Hollywood writer.


Oh I'm so fucked.