I didn't realize it had been so long. I've been busy, busy, busy, busy with the school thing and interning. It's to the point my health is being affected by it because I am so stressed, and the stress level never goes down. I live 24/7 with a tight chest and upset stomach. What am I going to do about it? I don't have a clue.
I received a letter from the Austin Film Festival to which I submitted a screenplay. They said it made it to the second round which is about the top 10% but then fell out of the race. I was pretty proud of that considering that AFF is very highly regarded by the industry. My next plan of action is to send both screenplays (probably not at the same time because of the cost) to someplace like Scriptshark. You can take a look at what they have to offer here: http://www.scriptshark.com/
My interest is in their coverage which can lead to placement in their scouting services.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Saturday, August 2, 2008
PAGE
PAGE International made their semi-finalists announcement yesterday. I have to say, they did much better than last year when it was getting close to midnight (IIRC) before they got the list up. I got the notice in July that I was a quarter-finalist, but I did not make it to semi-finalist. Frowny. The e-mail they sent out said that they had to do a lot of wrangling and rescoring because they had so many with such close scores. I would love to know where I ranked. I've been considering e-mailing them and asking if they can spill any info about where I ended up. In the past, they've always been very nice and very quick about responding. I have a feeling they probably wouldn't tell me much, but I guess I could try. They'll probably just tell me to buy the judge's notes, another $75. To me, that's too much like coverage which I already have. I want to know how I lined up against everyone else.
I have to go Monday and start preparations for my other life, the life of teaching. I have to go to some substitute trainings, and I have to go to my university and get everything set up for the upcoming semester. It has been sweltering hot around here, so I don't look forward to running around doing a ton of errands.
I have to go Monday and start preparations for my other life, the life of teaching. I have to go to some substitute trainings, and I have to go to my university and get everything set up for the upcoming semester. It has been sweltering hot around here, so I don't look forward to running around doing a ton of errands.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Neighborino
Well kiddies, I thought today I might tell you a little about my neighbors. You ready? Here we go.
To our left, you'll see Mr. and Mrs. Truck-Drivin' Man. We get the pleasure of hearing Mr. Truck-Drivin' Man's horn quite frequently (horn blows, does the driver?) and for inordinately long but always delightful periods of time. I have absolutely nothing against truck drivers, mind you. My dad was a truck driver for many years. The thing is though, on those occasions when he would bring the big rig home, I cannot recall a single time that he sauntered out to his truck, climbed in, and sat on the horn. I would remember something like that. My dad was maybe a little more of the "let's stay in the house under the air and watch wrasslin'" kinda guy. Despite the fact that he had an 18-wheelin' horn out there at his disposal, he chose not to utilize it in residential neighborhoods. The other oddity about Mr. and Mrs. TDM is that they never go inside. Could this be a clue to the horn-blowing propensity? I know not. All I know is that they are on the carport 24/7. My suspicion is that they lost the key soon after moving in which forces Mrs. TDM to have all of her telephone conversations on the carport. It was very lucky for them that the phone got locked out with them. Mrs. TDM loves her some carport yakkin'.
Now in front of us are Mr. and Mrs. Dot. I call them that because we always see them from such a distance. I think they prefer it that way because of all the houses in the area, theirs is the newest, so they are possibly feeling a bit smug about it and above all the riff-raff. For this, I feel that Halloween will bring them many eggs and flaming bags of poo. I rub my hands in anticipation.
Catty cornered from us are Mr. and Mrs. Truck-Drivin' Man #2. Mr. TDM2 does not have the same love of his horn as Mr. TDM. Mr. TDM2 loves to leave the engine running. I am as puzzled by this practice as by the horn-blowing and possibly even more so with the price of gas being as it is. Mr. TDM2 must be doing some shag-ass hauling to make enough money to pay for it. Funny thing though, the truck seems to stay in the yard alot. Mr. and Mrs. TDM2 have a couple of daughters who seem to have an aversion to the sun. They never come out. I have therefore concluded that they are vampires. This makes sense when you put it together with the fact that Mr. TDM2 has a big area in his sideyard that he never mows. I think this is where they put the bodies. Now that I think about it, maybe it's a whole family of vamps. The truck never leaves; they don't come out; the weedy area. I've already warned my family not to open the door if they show up because if there's one thing I learned from The Lost Boys, it's never invite your mom's boyfriend into the house.
To our right, you'll meet Mr. and Mrs. Poof. I call them that because the smell of a certain plant with a pungent odor when burned often wafts down to our house. I try to steer clear of their property because I think I might get my foot in a beartrap if I did.
So that's it. Hope you enjoyed my horn-blowin', blood-suckin', snobby, weedy neighborhood. Be sure to get your own "Keep on Truckin'" mug from the gift shop. Ya'll come back now, ya hear?
To our left, you'll see Mr. and Mrs. Truck-Drivin' Man. We get the pleasure of hearing Mr. Truck-Drivin' Man's horn quite frequently (horn blows, does the driver?) and for inordinately long but always delightful periods of time. I have absolutely nothing against truck drivers, mind you. My dad was a truck driver for many years. The thing is though, on those occasions when he would bring the big rig home, I cannot recall a single time that he sauntered out to his truck, climbed in, and sat on the horn. I would remember something like that. My dad was maybe a little more of the "let's stay in the house under the air and watch wrasslin'" kinda guy. Despite the fact that he had an 18-wheelin' horn out there at his disposal, he chose not to utilize it in residential neighborhoods. The other oddity about Mr. and Mrs. TDM is that they never go inside. Could this be a clue to the horn-blowing propensity? I know not. All I know is that they are on the carport 24/7. My suspicion is that they lost the key soon after moving in which forces Mrs. TDM to have all of her telephone conversations on the carport. It was very lucky for them that the phone got locked out with them. Mrs. TDM loves her some carport yakkin'.
Now in front of us are Mr. and Mrs. Dot. I call them that because we always see them from such a distance. I think they prefer it that way because of all the houses in the area, theirs is the newest, so they are possibly feeling a bit smug about it and above all the riff-raff. For this, I feel that Halloween will bring them many eggs and flaming bags of poo. I rub my hands in anticipation.
Catty cornered from us are Mr. and Mrs. Truck-Drivin' Man #2. Mr. TDM2 does not have the same love of his horn as Mr. TDM. Mr. TDM2 loves to leave the engine running. I am as puzzled by this practice as by the horn-blowing and possibly even more so with the price of gas being as it is. Mr. TDM2 must be doing some shag-ass hauling to make enough money to pay for it. Funny thing though, the truck seems to stay in the yard alot. Mr. and Mrs. TDM2 have a couple of daughters who seem to have an aversion to the sun. They never come out. I have therefore concluded that they are vampires. This makes sense when you put it together with the fact that Mr. TDM2 has a big area in his sideyard that he never mows. I think this is where they put the bodies. Now that I think about it, maybe it's a whole family of vamps. The truck never leaves; they don't come out; the weedy area. I've already warned my family not to open the door if they show up because if there's one thing I learned from The Lost Boys, it's never invite your mom's boyfriend into the house.
To our right, you'll meet Mr. and Mrs. Poof. I call them that because the smell of a certain plant with a pungent odor when burned often wafts down to our house. I try to steer clear of their property because I think I might get my foot in a beartrap if I did.
So that's it. Hope you enjoyed my horn-blowin', blood-suckin', snobby, weedy neighborhood. Be sure to get your own "Keep on Truckin'" mug from the gift shop. Ya'll come back now, ya hear?
Saturday, June 28, 2008
saddle up
i know - you've been worried about me, right? you've been frantically checking back every day, every hour, hoping to see another posting to confirm that i didn't commit suicide. calm down. it was just a little sidetrack breakdown. just a little puddle of tears left on the road of this journey. just a moment of me shaking my fists at the sky scarlett-style. everyone has to stop once in awhile and blow out the filters, get the crud out, shake off the dust of rejection, cry out the accumulation of negativity.
i'm fine, back in the saddle. still haven't heard anything earth-shattering, but the day's not over. really the next thing i'm looking forward to are the announcements from page international about their quarter-finalists. that should be in about two weeks or so, and if i make it, just another little sumpin sumpin to help keep the spirits up, as well as to add to the resume.
i do realize that certain words in sentences are supposed to be capitalized, for instance, the first word. i just feel like this is an informal thing so why go to the trouble of all that shifting? it's just you and me, right?
it's raining here today which is keeping the satellite from working. not that i care. it's been very nice to just have a quiet day, listen to the rain and the thunder.
i checked on the meaning of "synchronicity" last night because i feel like sometimes i'm experiencing some of it myself. i guess i understand the basics of it, but apparently there are whole books written on it and it can get deep. now i am a pretty intelligent person, and my reading comprehension is relatively high-level, but shit, take a look at this from wikipedia: "The idea of synchronicity is that the conceptual relationship of minds, defined by the relationship between ideas, is intricately structured in its own logical way and gives rise to relationships which have nothing to do with causal relationships in which a cause precedes an effect. Instead, causal relationships are understood as simultaneous — that is, the cause and effect occur at the same time." And this: "According to Occam's razor, positing an underlying mechanism for meaningfully interpreted correlations is an unsupported explanation for a "meaningful coincidence" if the correlations may alternatively be explained by simple coincidence." WTF? i am an english major and i have this major feeling of whooshing air above my head. i have to read these very slowly with a thesaurus and a dictionary while attempting to diagram them at the same time so that i can hopefully at least identify the root sentence. this is WIKIPEDIA, the everyman's encyclopedia. but apparently the posters there grew weary of everyman and booted his ass out in favor of nasa's elite.
i'm fine, back in the saddle. still haven't heard anything earth-shattering, but the day's not over. really the next thing i'm looking forward to are the announcements from page international about their quarter-finalists. that should be in about two weeks or so, and if i make it, just another little sumpin sumpin to help keep the spirits up, as well as to add to the resume.
i do realize that certain words in sentences are supposed to be capitalized, for instance, the first word. i just feel like this is an informal thing so why go to the trouble of all that shifting? it's just you and me, right?
it's raining here today which is keeping the satellite from working. not that i care. it's been very nice to just have a quiet day, listen to the rain and the thunder.
i checked on the meaning of "synchronicity" last night because i feel like sometimes i'm experiencing some of it myself. i guess i understand the basics of it, but apparently there are whole books written on it and it can get deep. now i am a pretty intelligent person, and my reading comprehension is relatively high-level, but shit, take a look at this from wikipedia: "The idea of synchronicity is that the conceptual relationship of minds, defined by the relationship between ideas, is intricately structured in its own logical way and gives rise to relationships which have nothing to do with causal relationships in which a cause precedes an effect. Instead, causal relationships are understood as simultaneous — that is, the cause and effect occur at the same time." And this: "According to Occam's razor, positing an underlying mechanism for meaningfully interpreted correlations is an unsupported explanation for a "meaningful coincidence" if the correlations may alternatively be explained by simple coincidence." WTF? i am an english major and i have this major feeling of whooshing air above my head. i have to read these very slowly with a thesaurus and a dictionary while attempting to diagram them at the same time so that i can hopefully at least identify the root sentence. this is WIKIPEDIA, the everyman's encyclopedia. but apparently the posters there grew weary of everyman and booted his ass out in favor of nasa's elite.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
break
I've decided I need a little break from all this. I spend hours upon hours each day searching the internet for places to submit. I e-mail people. I write. I read articles. I try and try and try and try. Literally until my eyes burn from staring at the screen. They even sometimes continue to burn after I go to bed. I read some stuff that gives me a little hope. And then I read a string of stuff that tries to squash it and tells me I am wasting so much time. I come across something that I think might be helpful, a place that might help me, and then I read somewhere else they are a scam. I ask for help in telling me who are the scammers, and I get some answers, but I know I need more and more and more and more. I get to points like today where the tears are standing in my eyes, and I am so tired. I know I need to back away at least for a day or two. I'm just so tired of not knowing where my life is going, and what I'm supposed to do. Am I really a writer? Am I supposed to be one? Am I fated to make a living from doing what I love, or will I be stuck forever just doing what pays the bills?
The only sense of peace I get today is from watching my cats relaxing in the open window in front of me, napping and washing and sniffing the air. I hear birds out there and the sun is shining. So I guess I need to get out there and start that break that I think I need.
The only sense of peace I get today is from watching my cats relaxing in the open window in front of me, napping and washing and sniffing the air. I hear birds out there and the sun is shining. So I guess I need to get out there and start that break that I think I need.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
blehhhhhh
I'm in a bit of a funk today and need to get myself out of it. I guess it's partly due to the fact that I didn't get to sleep until about 3:30 this morning. The sleepy part of my brain just would not kick in. So I woke up (about 8:30) feeling like crap, and I pretty much still feel like crap. I went for a walk to try to get to feeling better, but it seemed to have no effect.
I'm answering all kinds of ads hoping to get somebody interested in my writing. I did get a response from one who requested to see my second screenplay. So that made me feel a little better. Seems like I'll be deflating, and then out of the blue, something like that will come along and perk me up. I sound like I need to be on anti-depressants.
So back to my last posting. I was saying that I didn't understand why anyone in the industry would need to meet me. Well, of course I got in the shower not long after that and answered my own question (I do some good thinking in the shower and in bed. Probably part of the reason I can't sleep. And never come out of the shower quite clean.) If I expect to have any hope of assignments, they will need to like me. I feel like I should talk more about this, but my brain is just so sluggish today, whatever I said would just sound like incoherent mumbling in written form.
I joined a discussion group which has been interesting. They seem like a nice group of talented people with some of them having several books, produced screenplays, etc under their belts. It's funny how they will be rolling along and everything's fine and then all of a sudden WWIII breaks out. The first time this happened was like a couple days or so after I joined, and I was thinking, "Holy shit, did I say something?" But it turns out it wasn't me, and there have even been a couple more blowups since that one. What a world.
I'm answering all kinds of ads hoping to get somebody interested in my writing. I did get a response from one who requested to see my second screenplay. So that made me feel a little better. Seems like I'll be deflating, and then out of the blue, something like that will come along and perk me up. I sound like I need to be on anti-depressants.
So back to my last posting. I was saying that I didn't understand why anyone in the industry would need to meet me. Well, of course I got in the shower not long after that and answered my own question (I do some good thinking in the shower and in bed. Probably part of the reason I can't sleep. And never come out of the shower quite clean.) If I expect to have any hope of assignments, they will need to like me. I feel like I should talk more about this, but my brain is just so sluggish today, whatever I said would just sound like incoherent mumbling in written form.
I joined a discussion group which has been interesting. They seem like a nice group of talented people with some of them having several books, produced screenplays, etc under their belts. It's funny how they will be rolling along and everything's fine and then all of a sudden WWIII breaks out. The first time this happened was like a couple days or so after I joined, and I was thinking, "Holy shit, did I say something?" But it turns out it wasn't me, and there have even been a couple more blowups since that one. What a world.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Another day, another ... oh wait, I don't have a job.
I keep thinking I need to set up some kind of strict schedule for myself so that I don't spend my days wandering aimlessly, trying to think of something to do so that I won't feel guilty for not writing like 12 hours a day. How many hours should I write? I don't know. I remember reading that Stephen King writes like 4 hours a day. Is he the one to emulate? Would he mind if I called and asked?
And another question, do I or do I not have a shred of hope whatsoever given the fact that I don't live in LA? I read some articles that say 'sure you do', and some that say, 'what are you, nuts?' I don't understand why it should make such a difference. Why in the hell would anyone out there need to meet me? I keep reading all this stuff that you have to be able to 'sell yourself' and present yourself as all pumped up about your story and jumping up and down on the table causing the water carafe to vibrate so that the suits will get in on the excitement! If I've gotten as far as a meeting with them, that would mean they've read it, right? I would hope so. So what difference does my fucking personality make to them? They like the story? Ok then, just buy it. I'm not asking you to let me hang out at your house for the year or however it long it takes to get the movie made. You're not going to have to see me at all. You have my story. THAT was what I had to offer you. And unless you're Quentin or, again, Stephen King (he's coming up a lot today), appearances shouldn't matter either. I don't ask for a starring part or even a cameo. Although that would be cool.
If you read my last post, you saw that I was complaining about the tests that wannabe teachers have to take. Got another one of those lovelies to take tomorrow. I'm not really worried about it. So far, I've blown all the others out of the water.
BTW, it did seem like posting yesterday helped to get me going on the writing. I wrote about 4 pages last night and was pretty happy with how they turned out. Weird thing, I seem to want to write more at night than during the day. Vampire writer. I keep the fangs filed back, though, cause they're just uncomfortable, and I cut the nails, cause as you other writers know, you don't want them going clickety-clickety on the keyboard.
One last parting thought for you which has nothing to do with anything else. I got home yesterday and my cat had thrown up a partially-digested lizard. See ya!
I keep thinking I need to set up some kind of strict schedule for myself so that I don't spend my days wandering aimlessly, trying to think of something to do so that I won't feel guilty for not writing like 12 hours a day. How many hours should I write? I don't know. I remember reading that Stephen King writes like 4 hours a day. Is he the one to emulate? Would he mind if I called and asked?
And another question, do I or do I not have a shred of hope whatsoever given the fact that I don't live in LA? I read some articles that say 'sure you do', and some that say, 'what are you, nuts?' I don't understand why it should make such a difference. Why in the hell would anyone out there need to meet me? I keep reading all this stuff that you have to be able to 'sell yourself' and present yourself as all pumped up about your story and jumping up and down on the table causing the water carafe to vibrate so that the suits will get in on the excitement! If I've gotten as far as a meeting with them, that would mean they've read it, right? I would hope so. So what difference does my fucking personality make to them? They like the story? Ok then, just buy it. I'm not asking you to let me hang out at your house for the year or however it long it takes to get the movie made. You're not going to have to see me at all. You have my story. THAT was what I had to offer you. And unless you're Quentin or, again, Stephen King (he's coming up a lot today), appearances shouldn't matter either. I don't ask for a starring part or even a cameo. Although that would be cool.
If you read my last post, you saw that I was complaining about the tests that wannabe teachers have to take. Got another one of those lovelies to take tomorrow. I'm not really worried about it. So far, I've blown all the others out of the water.
BTW, it did seem like posting yesterday helped to get me going on the writing. I wrote about 4 pages last night and was pretty happy with how they turned out. Weird thing, I seem to want to write more at night than during the day. Vampire writer. I keep the fangs filed back, though, cause they're just uncomfortable, and I cut the nails, cause as you other writers know, you don't want them going clickety-clickety on the keyboard.
One last parting thought for you which has nothing to do with anything else. I got home yesterday and my cat had thrown up a partially-digested lizard. See ya!
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Day One
Well, here I am. First blog ever. And I have a purpose in mind for this blog, as you may have guessed from the title - I want/need to sell a screenplay.
This blog is going to be the place to help me get stoked about writing and get me going when I'm in a slump and being lazy. If you continue reading my posts, dear reader, you'll get to know more about me, but let's start with the basics.
I'm a good writer. Stop rolling your damned eyes; I really am! I even have proof! So get your stupid rolly eyes focused and continue on. I entered my first screenplay into the PAGE International, and it was a quarter-finalist. Now to me, for a first screenplay ever, and self-taught in the art/joke/quagmire of screenplay writing, that's not half bleepin' bad. I got some insights/insults from a professional reader and used them to revise, and the thing just came out even better. Do I owe him a percentage if the thing ever sells? Hell no! So I sent it again this year to the same contest. I'll find out around the middle of July if it made it again to the quarter-finals. Finalists and all that won't be until around September or October. In the meantime, I sent it to another professional reader (I know, should have sent it back to the first one to see if he changed his bloodletting tune, but this other guy was cheeeeaaaappper). Second guy gave it a glowing review. His only problem with it was that it was hard to pigeonhole, and you know how Hollywood loves the filthy, poop-encrusted pigeonholes. You just can't hardly lure them out of them. Even with a good screenplay.
I also sent out a second one I finished to PAGE and to the Austin Film Festival. It has not had the distinct pleasure of being clawed at like backed-up bears on their periods by a professional reader. Yet. I suppose that's coming soon.
Ok, so you have met what is sitting on one side of my see-saw. On the other side is -- you may need to sit down and put in a mouthguard -- teaching. I should say the prospect of teaching. I have a BA and lack just one semester of attaining a second one which will certify me to teach. "Well, what's wrong with that?" you may be thinking. "Why did I have to dig out that dirty mouthguard that my son used in eighth grade football? Teaching is a noble profession." Yes, it is. I wholeheartedly agree that it is a very important job. I'm just not sure that it's a fit for me. "Oh the kids, right? You don't want to have to tell some Kurt Cobain wannabe 900 times in a day to sit down and pull his pants up." First of all, I'm not even sure that the kids today still consider Cobain cool. Although during one of my observations in an actual classroom, a kid came in singing Johnny Cash. And wouldn't he have to pull up his pants and THEN sit down? Anyway, no, it's not them. During the hours of observation and practice teaching, I haven't really had any problem with the kids. It's more just the thought of the whole administration and all the rules, rules, rules with the list growing longer by the day. It all sounds very stifling. I feel this need to pull the collar away from my neck and say "Nyar." And another thing, if I were to tell you about a career where they expect you to get a college degree, and really prefer more than one, demand that you take SIX to SEVEN national tests on your own dime at about $80/pop, get eyeballed by the FBI, state police, etc., and basically become a Stepford Wife, wouldn't you think that that career must have a pretty sweet paycheck? Let me jab my finger at you while I say this: You're WRONG! Depending on where you plan on teaching, you could be starting out in the $20,000s. The $20,000s!
So I'm hoping that eventually I can pimp out my screenplays or other forms of writing and be able to make a living at it. But ye olde hourglass is running out. I go back to school this fall, and then I'll be looking for a job. Hell, I'm looking for a job right now. I just haven't been able to get anyone to even fart kindly in my direction. I send out e-mails, queries, treatments, scripts occasionally. And I do it all according to the very Britishly polite form outlined in The Screenwriter's Bible (www.keepwriting.com, very helpful book). Nothing. Oh, it' not that I plan on giving up the crazy dream when I start teaching. I'll keep writing and trying. But one thing I keep reading in screenwriting articles is that it mostly, sadly, seems to come down to contacts. You must have contacts. You must have a crazy uncle who janitored for Rob Reiner. You must have a slutty cousin who was a reader (or more) for some producer who would normally repel women like BO except for the fact that he's ... a producer. So here's my second hope for this blog: to make some delightful contacts. Will you be my friend?
This blog is going to be the place to help me get stoked about writing and get me going when I'm in a slump and being lazy. If you continue reading my posts, dear reader, you'll get to know more about me, but let's start with the basics.
I'm a good writer. Stop rolling your damned eyes; I really am! I even have proof! So get your stupid rolly eyes focused and continue on. I entered my first screenplay into the PAGE International, and it was a quarter-finalist. Now to me, for a first screenplay ever, and self-taught in the art/joke/quagmire of screenplay writing, that's not half bleepin' bad. I got some insights/insults from a professional reader and used them to revise, and the thing just came out even better. Do I owe him a percentage if the thing ever sells? Hell no! So I sent it again this year to the same contest. I'll find out around the middle of July if it made it again to the quarter-finals. Finalists and all that won't be until around September or October. In the meantime, I sent it to another professional reader (I know, should have sent it back to the first one to see if he changed his bloodletting tune, but this other guy was cheeeeaaaappper). Second guy gave it a glowing review. His only problem with it was that it was hard to pigeonhole, and you know how Hollywood loves the filthy, poop-encrusted pigeonholes. You just can't hardly lure them out of them. Even with a good screenplay.
I also sent out a second one I finished to PAGE and to the Austin Film Festival. It has not had the distinct pleasure of being clawed at like backed-up bears on their periods by a professional reader. Yet. I suppose that's coming soon.
Ok, so you have met what is sitting on one side of my see-saw. On the other side is -- you may need to sit down and put in a mouthguard -- teaching. I should say the prospect of teaching. I have a BA and lack just one semester of attaining a second one which will certify me to teach. "Well, what's wrong with that?" you may be thinking. "Why did I have to dig out that dirty mouthguard that my son used in eighth grade football? Teaching is a noble profession." Yes, it is. I wholeheartedly agree that it is a very important job. I'm just not sure that it's a fit for me. "Oh the kids, right? You don't want to have to tell some Kurt Cobain wannabe 900 times in a day to sit down and pull his pants up." First of all, I'm not even sure that the kids today still consider Cobain cool. Although during one of my observations in an actual classroom, a kid came in singing Johnny Cash. And wouldn't he have to pull up his pants and THEN sit down? Anyway, no, it's not them. During the hours of observation and practice teaching, I haven't really had any problem with the kids. It's more just the thought of the whole administration and all the rules, rules, rules with the list growing longer by the day. It all sounds very stifling. I feel this need to pull the collar away from my neck and say "Nyar." And another thing, if I were to tell you about a career where they expect you to get a college degree, and really prefer more than one, demand that you take SIX to SEVEN national tests on your own dime at about $80/pop, get eyeballed by the FBI, state police, etc., and basically become a Stepford Wife, wouldn't you think that that career must have a pretty sweet paycheck? Let me jab my finger at you while I say this: You're WRONG! Depending on where you plan on teaching, you could be starting out in the $20,000s. The $20,000s!
So I'm hoping that eventually I can pimp out my screenplays or other forms of writing and be able to make a living at it. But ye olde hourglass is running out. I go back to school this fall, and then I'll be looking for a job. Hell, I'm looking for a job right now. I just haven't been able to get anyone to even fart kindly in my direction. I send out e-mails, queries, treatments, scripts occasionally. And I do it all according to the very Britishly polite form outlined in The Screenwriter's Bible (www.keepwriting.com, very helpful book). Nothing. Oh, it' not that I plan on giving up the crazy dream when I start teaching. I'll keep writing and trying. But one thing I keep reading in screenwriting articles is that it mostly, sadly, seems to come down to contacts. You must have contacts. You must have a crazy uncle who janitored for Rob Reiner. You must have a slutty cousin who was a reader (or more) for some producer who would normally repel women like BO except for the fact that he's ... a producer. So here's my second hope for this blog: to make some delightful contacts. Will you be my friend?
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