Belly of the Whale, Part II

I had a rewrite assignment vanish recently, a "polish" they call it, where you take a pretty finished script and buff it up to a high shine. On the face of it, an easy gig. And it would have been my first. "Would have been" because it disappeard, which as The Dude would say, is a bummer, man. It was going to float me into financial security for the remaining few months of this year. But just like that it disappeared. More work to be done before I could buff it up.

Did I despair? Yes. But only momentarily - all the therapy is helping a LITTLE. I moved on, saw things on the continuum, got big picture about it. I figured something would come as it often has when I wonder how I'm going to keep the lights on around here. And then, sweet bearded moses, two things came in one day, two offers to write. One short term, one longer term, both affording me another comfortable month here in my palatial estate on Los Angeles's East Side. For about 21 hours I was feeling pretty all right.

Then they vanished. Two phone calls, both graciously slipping a pillow over the assignments and suffocating them. Setting me back at square one. And now I'm broke, hungry, and feeling the chill of December on its way. Um. So, if anyone needs a writer... you know... contact my manager.

Ah, I'm gonna have to sell my sperm, aren't I?