wilderworks

The producer holding the option on my feature screenplay, code name Zaniness Ensues , is hoping to get a distribution commitment, but I haven't heard any word since the 6th. I want Barb to artistically colorize my bedroom mirrors. A lot. I need to buy Alli her birthday present. Our composers promised to have music finished for the Zaniness Ensues short by the end of the year, which will finally tie up that project, and get it into festivals. I need to get Christmas presents. Thanks to my day-job, there are now four super-fancy holiday parties at super-fancy bars and clubs, which I'm supposed to attend in the next three weeks, and that makes me sick to my stomach. I'd like to get ridiculously dressed up and sit on a couch drinking champagne for New Year's. In January, Shaun says he'll be shooting the Shift Work short film in NY/NJ, which may (or may not) be for entry in yet another silly competition. In February, we're shooting the pilot for Hel

So, I've been at my new job for about a month. I almost have a clue what I'm doing now. Here's what it boils down to. ---> Car-pooling 12 miles, each way -- which, of course, takes about an hour or so, each way, up and down the 405. Not too bad, since I'm on salary now, and don't have to worry about being a bit late, which is like having a super power. Every day we pass a woman dressed as an old-style waitress, wearing a pale-blue gingham dress, a white apron, sometimes partially hidden under a black coat. She's maybe twenty-five with curly gold hair, and she walks west across the parking-lot that is Sepulveda, coming from an unknown starting point beyond the Galleria Mall and going to her bus stop on Venture Blvd, where the unhappy Mexican mother stand frowning at traffic. We wonder where she works, and why her glum, hurried march somehow brightens our day. She's the "Ruby Tuesday" girl. ---> Sending and reading so many e-mails tha

So, on Monday I was supposed to go with a producer to the American Film Market to pitch my feature screenplay (we'll call it Zaniness Ensues ) to a few production companies, studios, and distributors, seeking funding. I was ready to actually kick off my career at long last -- my first real industry meetings. But turns out there's a writer's strike, and I couldn't cross the picketline to become a scab. I couldn't negotiate or pitch or discuss or write -- or else I'd be blacklisted and banned by the union. Ah, the birthday curse strikes again. But, all the same, I met with him on Sunday, before the midnight deadline. I prepared him as best I could, and he went around Monday without me. Word is, if he can push the right parties hard enough to get a domestic distribution promise, there are a few parties that might be interested in putting up the money to produce it. Of course, I can't turn the option into a sale until this is all over... but none of th