Anatomy of a Blow-off
Back in November, I gave one of my sitcom specs to an Executive Producer on Will & Grace. This was a re-write based on notes she had given me on an early draft, at which point she had said she’d “give it to the guys” after I punched it up. Well, I finally heard back from her, and the bottom line is that I ain’t quitting my day job.
Here’s a transcript of the voicemail she left me:
Chuck. It’s (Executive Producer). Sorry it took me a couple of days to get back to you. Umm… I read your script. And I think you did a GRRREAT job. Uh — It’s really funny. And really, uh… great. Um. So… You probably want to know what I think you should do next. Call me. And, uh, we’ll… talk.
She loved it, can’t you tell? Ha.
I “probably want to know what she thinks I should do next”? Uh, no, she was supposed to say “I’m giving it to the showrunner and we’ll see what he says.” It was pretty clear from the message and her tone of voice that this was a blow-off.
When I finally got her on the phone about a week later, that’s exactly what it was. Her big advice was to “Get an agent.” Duh. I was giving her the script to bypass the agent routine — and she knew it. And when I pointed out that at age 41 it was unlikely any sitcom would be interested in me even if I came in through an agent, she suggested that I ask the agent (that I don’t have) to look into getting me rewrite work for features. I didn’t bother pointing out that those assignments go to the David Koepp‘s of the world because very few film producers are going to be interested in having their multi-million dollar movies rewritten by an unproduced newbie writer. What would be the point? She was blowing me off as nicely as she could.
So that’s it, that’s the stake in the heart of my TV writing dreams — again. I had already killed them once a few years ago, but they reanimated and zombified themselves with this producer. Now they’re dead again, but it doesn’t hurt as much this time — I already said goodbye once.
This time around was more like the body twitching and you think for a second “Wait, it’s not dead yet!” — and then the corpse farts. It stinks, but it confirms what you already knew: it’s over.
Chuck…no other way to put this: That sucks!
It seems like so much of ‘that world’ is as much (if not more)about who you know as how you write.
I first stumbled across your writing when you (as Steve so aptly put it) “struck gold” with your Mojave Phonebooth entries. In retrospect I was more captivated by the telling of the story than the story itself. It was because of your ability to give a compelling voice to the narrative that so many people caught ‘phonebooth fever’, not because of the phonebooth itself.
I’m a real newbie in the Journaling community, so I don’t have a wealth of other writers to draw upon for comparison’s sake…but I know a damned good storyteller when I ‘hear’ one.
What I’m trying to say is: Rumors of your writing career’s demise might be a tad premature. You might just have to look for other outlets for your talent.
The most obvious thing that comes to mind would be a collaboration between you and Beth on a series of slightly ireverent children’s books. Nothing racy mind you…but with just enough double meaning and irony to amuse both the child listener, and the parent reader (without the one being aware of the other’s amusement).
You have plenty of material to draw upon (your descriptions of your family life are full of great lessons and experiences), and you probably know an artist or two who could illustrate the finished stories.
When life give you lemons, pick a few up and Chuck ’em back! :-)
Alas, he was a good man. He wanted to be a writer. Everyone liked him. He had his whole life ahead of him! It’s a tragedy.
Kidding aside, there are other places than Hollywood where talent can be expressed. One of those places is the internet, where no one knows how old you are. (Unless you TELL THEM! DOH!)
I have you beat by one year. I’m 42.