Now Bring Me that Horizon...

I’m amused at how tangled things have become. Instead of writing about my battles in the game of Hollywood, I hitch. I hesitate as if THAT were my soft spot. On the flip side, my reservations in writing about my life have whittled to almost nothing. It’s more than a bit troubling…

I got a call yesterday. When I hung up, I felt ill…even if it was only for a moment.

In terms of my career, the career I re-located my ass out here for…I really only have two things on my plate. In case you need to be brought up to speed…

1. Wrapping a Script.
2. Swapping jabs with Mickey Mouse house.

That’s it. For the time being, my personal and professional directions are mapped out and tidy. You could say I’m simplifying things…that I need to broaden my perspective. I disagree. Things are good. Things are perfect.

But the call was from Disney. If you’ve been reading, the “girl” I’ve been referring is an exec from the studio. I know it’s difficult to sift. In between the banished ex girlfriends I foolishly re-fall for, the Philippine call girls and my 8-12 hour crushes…the “she” droppings can be a bit much. My separation is the knowledge that this is the one breaking me in.

By now, we have a good repore. Good enough where she calls…or, at least has her assistant call to say they filled MY POSITION. It was the position I was supposed to pitch for “In the New Year.” What’s the date today? January 26th. I had an opportunity that 10,000 people in this town would cut their wrists for…and I let it roll off my back. I flaked…sort of. And I feel a slight awful for it.

This is a town full of cold shoulders…the most locked down industry in the world. There are millions of “wannabes” and only a handful of “ares.” It’s your run of the mill power struggle scenario. Simply swap variables. Vanity for genocide. Narcotic driven economy for…actually, that works on both fronts. As I was saying, those holding power want to keep it. AND, those that have it remember how many times they had to break, mend and re-break their backs to get it.

I don’t understand why they called, again. Or…why they’re so encouraging, again. “Come June, you’ll have a foot up.” It’s not like they owe me anything, again. To them, I should be a nobody (though you and I know considerably better). Then again, she read my 1st(4th) script and said she and another executive really liked it. Hence, my meeting/our relationship. For some reason, I never believed her.

At the very least, if you were curious as to why I wanted to land this thing, your question should be answered. There’s heart there. If anything gets me…that’s it.

And yet the other side of my head knows I’d be better off on my own. Give and take…the greatest fucking bastard I know.

…

It’s funny, the process. Come to Hollywood with Hollywood dreams and all you want is a chance…the coveted “foot in the door.” Most people never get one, and 99% of the time…deservedly so.

Mine’s in. I’m 1 person away from anyone in this town. Tom Cruise might be 2, but besides Tommy, anyone else. It’s comforting, calming, cooling. There’s no who, what, when, where, why or how. I only have to worry about being one thing in this entire world…

Fucking remarkable.

And I want you to understand what I’ve understood. I took a break from my script, my “in” to write this. If it were a shit piece, I’d be upstairs, kicking the hell out of Frank, my accountant neighbor due to concerns I let a golden opportunity slide.

Frank is fine. He’s upstairs, probably masturbating to gay porn…getting ready to dream the night away. I didn’t harm a hair on his head.

If it were a shit piece, I’d be a twitchy, panicked, backpedaling fuckrunner. Use your imagination. Just like it sounds.

I ain’t that. So at the end of the day, at the end of it all, is it any surprise that all roads lead to such familiar stomping grounds…

Sweet, coveted uncertainty.

My little ups

It was a good first week. 30 pages. A finished script is anywhere from 95-120 pages. Though, to get there, you should go through the equivalent of 400 pages before it's all said, done...and ready to send out. At least that’s how this guy works. Not that I have any clue what I am talking about…but I do.

December. Three months from now. It's a tough pill to swallow, especially for someone who has absolutely NO PATIENCE. That’s why I’m ALWAYS trying to pull rabbits from a hat. See, I absolutely live and die by flow. And by flow, I mean the feeling that chills, breaks you down and pulls you up. Without it, I’d be wandering. For the most part, flow is non-existent until the last month of writing. So what do I do till late November? I go fix hunting like a crack whore who steals and pawns babies.

Trust me, I’ve seen it.

My days are strange. I write in bursts. Usually up early to go at it for a couple hours and back to bed for any period of time between 18 and 76 minutes. I’m not trying to be clever through specificity, that’s just how it works. First drafts are so bad. Thinking you’re a Casanova and taking care of business like leaving virginity. Again and again. It's tough…all over.

It’s story time…my first pitch meeting.

I think it was a Tuesday. Of course, on my way to the lot, I drew up at least 83 reasons why Tuesday was a great day to pitch. So…good spirits abound until I pulled up to the gate and came up with a quick 117 reasons why it was a huge mistake…

And you know what…that’s the exact point break. Live it and you understand why 99% of Hollywood hopefuls get swallowed whole. Of course, 95% of that 99% fall into, “Club No Talent Ass Clown.” Sorry, that’s so unoriginal.

You balked, right? Wondering where I get off. Where are my credits? My films? What the hell have I done? Well, I’m going to let you in on a little secret, the reason that I will stand the test of time in this little town…

I am the most self confident, self-assured…okay, arrogant person you will ever meet. You’ll just never know it. Or, maybe I’m just an idiot…completely project this to everyone and when I turn my back people point and wonder – what’s his deal?

So I came to the meeting armed with 4 pitches. I knew, going in…exactly what I had. Two of the ideas were shit. Well, not necessarily shit, but each catered to the “family-friendly” type movies that this studio (think black mouse) tends to lean towards. I wasn’t into them, and something I know now and didn’t then is that aiming for quantity…even when you are trying to demonstrate relentless, idea pumping prodigy potential…is a stupid fucking thing to do.

The next pitch was a little small and a lot dark-ly funny. The kind of thing that will take me on my first spin as director on some distant day. I loved it. I still love it. Some day…on the big screen, I hope you’ll love it too.

The last pitch was for the script I’m writing now. I think her words went a little something like, “I’ll tell you up front that it’s something we could never touch. But you have something. There’s a chance it might be brilliant.” Maybe she was trying to be kind. Maybe she was ready for me to get the hell out of her office. I believe life is about bottling up the things that are worth a damn…and those words were worth a damn. Come New Years, I’ll prove her right.

But I’m still three months away…and I was talking about my fix…so let’s get back to it. There was something else I bottled up that afternoon. No, not the crush I had on the 31-year-old exec (yeah…the same one as before if you have been reading my posts.) And by the way, I don’t develop unsubstantiated crushes. I think in my life, I’ve done it thrice, and one was in third grade. That stuff is too dangerous to toss around. So I must say…unless it’s a rare circumstance...these days, I rarely serve.

But there were these brilliant...I mean absolutely fucking brilliant set models for a project that was inches from being green lit. They were waiting on a re-write, had the director and were trying to attach their key star. I think at the time, it was Alison Lohman. If you knew the material, you’d understand how perfect she is. Such a sweetheart. Ever seen Matchstick Men? But these set models were so brilliant that there is no way they could do it without a budget that would push 100 million. Some Oscar winning production designer in China must have spent months before sending them to Los Angeles. Honestly, I’m too tired to put it into words.

I was reading Premiere magazine a few nights ago. The shoot is going up in December…in China. My abusive inner dialogue: “China…3 months…Fuck bag, you have to get in on that.” Of course it’s impractical. But a letter went out to the dear exec who “put my name at the front of an endlessly long list” for a very coveted studio writing job. And with my most loving, skeptical, ass-bag grin…we shall see about that.

Wanna read me? Okay. You are, after all…part of the ride…

"When I read in Premiere that **** and the ***** is getting off the ground, I got a rush. From the moment you mentioned the story and ******* ******, to the ridiculously beautiful models in your office, it sounded like an amazing project. With ***-**** **** attached, it looks like you’re almost there. Congratulations.
I know that most film crews come pre-assembled…and that you are likely going over seas to shoot. But if for any reason, you’re looking for a PA, I’m loaded with heart and hustle…and now have the experience to back it up.
I’m really excited for you and **** films. It seems to be such a rare and wonderful project. You were the first person who opened their ears to me, and I don’t forget that."

Signed, Fun Loving Dip Shit. If they are shooting in China, she’s probably there for pre-production. Maybe not. But I know that letters like this rarely…and I mean rarely get a reply. Lloyd Christmas ending up with Mary Swanson, rare. But for some reason, the simple act of dropping it in the mail…these shots in the dark somehow exercise things in me that need it bad.

Shots in the dark. What else is life about?

Did I mention this post is two parts…you’ll have to wait for the dramatic conclusion sometime later in the week. Of course, this second scheme is a multi-part adventure. You can follow along. Should be something…something for me to throw darts at while I grind…away…slowly.

I’ll leave you with a quote that I heard one half of before the phone rang today…and finished it off. No need to italicize or quote. It’s mine…kind of. Anyone know the source??? I’ll give you lots of points.

***May the wind always be at your back and the sun on your face and the moons of destiny carry your distress to a far away place***