Last week, we sat down, me and my guy, my rep, my back. We had spoken a little bit here and there since Kim and Val but at some point I said something like I'm going to go write a book with my boy Durban and he kind of just gave me some space...maybe because we had been though some shit, maybe because he knew it's what I was asking for. Then last week, we spoke and I told him I was almost done and ready to get back into the fight...our fight, the fight of conquering features. Meanwhile, I've been picking others all over town, every day every night every morning. I sent him the opening chapter, Paris, to read before we had dinner and a couple drinks at 3rd Stop last whenever. He read it, or at least enough of it to say something like, look...finish the fucking thing so that we can get back to business...it's good and it flies and I have someone lined up who will take it on...but finish it. I told this to Durban and of course he told me he had plenty of people, plenty of suitors who might take it on but that they would all resent him for being who he was, for all he had. He agreed Team Burn might be a good place to start, at least for the sake of loyalty.
Anyway, we parted after dinner with an agreement to meet sometime after the book was finished, before I started in on my next thing. That was the plan. Now I'm going to tell you why this game is so backbreaking. I'm going to tell you why I've so hardened, why I'm so cynical and fucking tortured. Start with my April 22nd post about the spec episode I wrote for Eastbound and Down. I wrote it in two days, hammered it out and sent it out to friends during the first draft of the book. Everyone loved it because it's near fucking perfect, and everyone gave it to their agents and passed it up and around. I have two cc'd e-mails from TV lit partners at two of the top agencies in town, proof that it was liked enough by successful enough people to put their necks out for me. I haven't heard much because the maddening fucking secret about this town is that no one reads anything, so everything you write just goes out and drifts into abyss - and that's if you're fucking good. Me and Team Burn were on the second beer and I told him I had submitted the Eastbound and Down to Disney and NBC, and told him that I was certain it would at least get me an interview. He glanced over it a little bit and tried to move off the topic and I told him I knew he hadn't read it. He admitted, and apologized, saying that there was nothing he could do with it, nothing he knew to do with it. It was 30 pages long and I told him I thought it was mild bullshit that he hadn't read it, because most importantly...he needed to know my capability of writing something other than drama and love and intensity. He said he would put it on his list and then we moved onto talking about this...
Last night, I was driving around town and something made me want to give him shit. I sent a text while I was waiting for Harry Potter that said something like, Hey Cinderella...how's Kenny Fucking Powers? I got a text back in a couple hours and he told me it was great, then to finish the book so we could get back to work. I laughed, thinking he hadn't read it, again...thinking whatever, forgivable, still my boy. Today, I was finishing a chapter about Rio around 6 when he sent me an e-mail asking about everyone who knew anything about the spec and at which agencies they were located. Then he called soon after and said something like, here I am thinking you're this very serious and love obsessed writer and you drop this on me...comic fucking genius...I printed it out and gave it to everyone I could to read today at the office and it held up...they loved it...they're quoting it...laughing out loud. Then he told me he had been running it around all day and that it was in the very least, going to draw some serious interest for a spec of the same tone, by a writer of my name. I told him I could write the next spec feature in 2 weeks once I had a clear slate, because I like to set myself up for self-destruction. We're meeting on Sunday so I can show him that when I do start this new one, it's going to deliver. I still have a book to finish, and right now that's all that matters...but you gotta respect fire when it gets lit under someone's ass who reads a couple thousand pages a week.
When the click happens, in whatever literary world it happens in, people are going to read about it and say something like, oh the timing. I'll know better. There are no Cinderellas.
Showing posts with label Eastbound and Down. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Eastbound and Down. Show all posts
July 17, 2009
April 22, 2009
Who Knows Ben Best or Jody Hill or Danny McBride or Chris Henchy or Adam McKay or Will Ferrell...
I'm hustling this script around town...episode 1 of season 2 of Eastbound And Down. Hammered it out over the weekend and it's legit, mostly because it's not that hard to ride on the coat-tails of success and or originality and or filthy, filthy writing. Or maybe it is, I don't know. Actually, that's what I banking on, exactly that it is...and that someone super involved is willing to listen to a 27 year old egomaniacal writer who thinks he can slaughter their shit.
April 15, 2009
Off Day Wednesday...
It's becoming something of a personal holiday around here, hump day. This morning, I got up at 5 to work out before teaching before running before dropping 2000 words into the book before sleeping for a bit before finally starting in on the line, "Who is John Galt." I just put Atlas down, just to break ground for the first time ever, and now it's somewhere in the 3's and and I just ate a banana and looked outside and it feels like the day it just beginning.
Me and Durban just crossed 50,000 words. The plan was to have the first pass done by the time I run the marathon, May 25th, and I think we should make that mark with time to spare. Right now, it feels like once everything is said and done, the book will come in around 70,000 words. I think that should be right around 200 pages and that sounds about right...light, sprawling but concise.
I haven't spoken much to my representation lately. E-mails have been circling around town, and from agency heavyweights weighing in on the lowly state of the industry -- exactly why the true literary world held such an appeal to me. Things aren't good, obviously, but I'm very not daunted by any of it right now. Recently, this idea has been floating around my mind quite a bit...that within the next 6 months, an opportunity will present itself for me to go all in on something, something that fits...something I've been building towards every day since I moved to town. I don't know what started it - it's not exactly like I have this uber-confidence in the book we're writing, or that I think of it as a rescue. I think when we're done, it's going to be a magnificent and ultimately self-fulfilling piece of work...but I know dick about publishing and getting a true lit agent. I guess at the end of the day, all you have is what you put on paper - and maybe the simplicity of that is exactly what's giving me faith. But it's not just that...
I was having meetings with Team Burn before me and Durban started writing, and we were fighting so hard, trying to come up with an idea and it was sucking the life from me - and it was sinking me into this mess, making me this mess where all I wanted to do was push everything away - because I wasn't inspired...as desperate a feeling as feeling exists in this world. Once the book struck, I dropped a note that I was going off the map for a little bit and that was that.
Sometime in the last week, the flood came. I think it was around the point where the book felt anchored, when the concrete hardened, that something opened inside of me. I took on another project, one that's all guts and hunch and if I talked to my reps, they'd say it's a complete waste of time, but sometimes, you gotta trust guts and hunch, write where the writing feels inspired, where the heroes names sound something exactly like Kenny Powers...
In the mornings, I usually knock out 1000 words and move to Eastbound and Down later at night, writing action lines like, "There's a mocha hooker unconscious at best in the corner of the room, tributaries of saliva and cocaine cascade her tits." I think I can hammer it out in a matter of days, something in the form of extra credit, to flex a muscle different from the one I'm using during the book's sprawling madness. Then, I got a great idea for a feature spec...great idea. Then, people I know started talking about monster shows and staffing and I feel like something is starting to circle and I can't explain it, all I can do is work through it, let this growth take hold of me, aim as high as aim goes or so I say.
...
But let's not make this all and only about work. What's worse than a writer who can't stop talking about writing...
There's also this girl. Sometimes, after I drop a period post-statements like that, I try and think of all the people who might be reading this, wanting me to be their, "so there's this guy." I'm awfully kind, tremendous arrogance aside, have been accused of being overly flirtatious before - disputing to my grave the difference between flirting and intention of fucking - but chances are if any of us are posturing our chances with someone in this world, that's all we're doing...posturing. I've found myself to be extremely forward when it comes to wanting someone.
That being said, I recently had this true crush dropped into my lap...and I fucking felt it, and you can't invent feelings like the true forms give. I'm very careful, though, and don't get carried away - also believe in composure above all things - and that the heart has the power to carry you away because that's what it does. But still, I want to talk about this girl...because that's what we do here, label posts "girl" and go off. Let me say this first, and say something above all things...you have to know about the context of this story, and that this girl has a stare that's pretty fucking rare. It's the kind of stare I'd equate to Siren Song (don't I use that often?), because when you're its benefactor, you have no choice but to fall in love. In the past, when I would get it from her, it'd last for about a half-hour and I'd laugh it off as a wonderful ride. That was the kind of pull she had on me, maybe because I deal in high caliber to begin with, maybe because I've faith enough to know I'm eventually going to grow into something in need of someone world-conquering. But that's for another day. Let me fill out your context by saying this...I live in Hollywood, in the midst of everything that means. Girls I speak of who have "rare" stares have likely already spread that stare to distant corners of the world - and I know there are men in corners of the world who have never recovered from this one's. That's dramatic. That's your context.
So I've been around the block, know the language. As far as I can remember, I've had this talent where I can pick a girl I've wanted to get with and make it happen. I've never found sport in it - and feel the need to qualify this, and that the talent I speak of is certainly used sparingly, but nonetheless, I GET THE GAME, do quite well in the game when I choose to play.
This thing has been happening lately between her and I...it's been extending my crushes. I consider myself a very strong person, but I also know I've got this quality that's very timid...will always initially come off as shy and quiet - and maybe that pegs me straight, who am I to be objective? But this thing that's been happening is very hard for me - the stare. Fuck, it's hard for everyone, and there's this unspoken dialogue that's happening that's starting to light me on fire. She holds...and holds, maybe because that's her talent. Maybe that's what works for her, gives her what she wants. I saw her twice very recently and it was the second pass that got me, as brief as passes come...a goodnight before she got on the escalator and then she held my eyes, forcing me to hold hers, and those stairs took her down and away until I couldn't take it...until I was the first to break glance. It was maddening - looks like that gift temporary insanity. I felt it. I'm just now coming down off it, just now cleaning myself of it - because no one holds like that. Sensational. I was out with a friend and confidant the other night and told her very generally (having nothing to do with this temp crush) that I was in no shape to take on anything that even bears resemblance to a figment of a relationship...that I simply can't. I told her I wasn't interested in anything like that, that I'm too busy, too self-involved and she told me if it came, I'd take it on, claiming she knew me.
This weekend, it's starting to warm up...and I feel like there's a stride approaching that's going to fall right into my steps. And everything I want or need or think I don't need but do...they're all going to fall into place in the next 6 months. I say that without hope or ego, honestly...and because of that, it's as good as truth.
Me and Durban just crossed 50,000 words. The plan was to have the first pass done by the time I run the marathon, May 25th, and I think we should make that mark with time to spare. Right now, it feels like once everything is said and done, the book will come in around 70,000 words. I think that should be right around 200 pages and that sounds about right...light, sprawling but concise.
I haven't spoken much to my representation lately. E-mails have been circling around town, and from agency heavyweights weighing in on the lowly state of the industry -- exactly why the true literary world held such an appeal to me. Things aren't good, obviously, but I'm very not daunted by any of it right now. Recently, this idea has been floating around my mind quite a bit...that within the next 6 months, an opportunity will present itself for me to go all in on something, something that fits...something I've been building towards every day since I moved to town. I don't know what started it - it's not exactly like I have this uber-confidence in the book we're writing, or that I think of it as a rescue. I think when we're done, it's going to be a magnificent and ultimately self-fulfilling piece of work...but I know dick about publishing and getting a true lit agent. I guess at the end of the day, all you have is what you put on paper - and maybe the simplicity of that is exactly what's giving me faith. But it's not just that...
I was having meetings with Team Burn before me and Durban started writing, and we were fighting so hard, trying to come up with an idea and it was sucking the life from me - and it was sinking me into this mess, making me this mess where all I wanted to do was push everything away - because I wasn't inspired...as desperate a feeling as feeling exists in this world. Once the book struck, I dropped a note that I was going off the map for a little bit and that was that.
Sometime in the last week, the flood came. I think it was around the point where the book felt anchored, when the concrete hardened, that something opened inside of me. I took on another project, one that's all guts and hunch and if I talked to my reps, they'd say it's a complete waste of time, but sometimes, you gotta trust guts and hunch, write where the writing feels inspired, where the heroes names sound something exactly like Kenny Powers...
In the mornings, I usually knock out 1000 words and move to Eastbound and Down later at night, writing action lines like, "There's a mocha hooker unconscious at best in the corner of the room, tributaries of saliva and cocaine cascade her tits." I think I can hammer it out in a matter of days, something in the form of extra credit, to flex a muscle different from the one I'm using during the book's sprawling madness. Then, I got a great idea for a feature spec...great idea. Then, people I know started talking about monster shows and staffing and I feel like something is starting to circle and I can't explain it, all I can do is work through it, let this growth take hold of me, aim as high as aim goes or so I say.
...
But let's not make this all and only about work. What's worse than a writer who can't stop talking about writing...
There's also this girl. Sometimes, after I drop a period post-statements like that, I try and think of all the people who might be reading this, wanting me to be their, "so there's this guy." I'm awfully kind, tremendous arrogance aside, have been accused of being overly flirtatious before - disputing to my grave the difference between flirting and intention of fucking - but chances are if any of us are posturing our chances with someone in this world, that's all we're doing...posturing. I've found myself to be extremely forward when it comes to wanting someone.
That being said, I recently had this true crush dropped into my lap...and I fucking felt it, and you can't invent feelings like the true forms give. I'm very careful, though, and don't get carried away - also believe in composure above all things - and that the heart has the power to carry you away because that's what it does. But still, I want to talk about this girl...because that's what we do here, label posts "girl" and go off. Let me say this first, and say something above all things...you have to know about the context of this story, and that this girl has a stare that's pretty fucking rare. It's the kind of stare I'd equate to Siren Song (don't I use that often?), because when you're its benefactor, you have no choice but to fall in love. In the past, when I would get it from her, it'd last for about a half-hour and I'd laugh it off as a wonderful ride. That was the kind of pull she had on me, maybe because I deal in high caliber to begin with, maybe because I've faith enough to know I'm eventually going to grow into something in need of someone world-conquering. But that's for another day. Let me fill out your context by saying this...I live in Hollywood, in the midst of everything that means. Girls I speak of who have "rare" stares have likely already spread that stare to distant corners of the world - and I know there are men in corners of the world who have never recovered from this one's. That's dramatic. That's your context.
So I've been around the block, know the language. As far as I can remember, I've had this talent where I can pick a girl I've wanted to get with and make it happen. I've never found sport in it - and feel the need to qualify this, and that the talent I speak of is certainly used sparingly, but nonetheless, I GET THE GAME, do quite well in the game when I choose to play.
This thing has been happening lately between her and I...it's been extending my crushes. I consider myself a very strong person, but I also know I've got this quality that's very timid...will always initially come off as shy and quiet - and maybe that pegs me straight, who am I to be objective? But this thing that's been happening is very hard for me - the stare. Fuck, it's hard for everyone, and there's this unspoken dialogue that's happening that's starting to light me on fire. She holds...and holds, maybe because that's her talent. Maybe that's what works for her, gives her what she wants. I saw her twice very recently and it was the second pass that got me, as brief as passes come...a goodnight before she got on the escalator and then she held my eyes, forcing me to hold hers, and those stairs took her down and away until I couldn't take it...until I was the first to break glance. It was maddening - looks like that gift temporary insanity. I felt it. I'm just now coming down off it, just now cleaning myself of it - because no one holds like that. Sensational. I was out with a friend and confidant the other night and told her very generally (having nothing to do with this temp crush) that I was in no shape to take on anything that even bears resemblance to a figment of a relationship...that I simply can't. I told her I wasn't interested in anything like that, that I'm too busy, too self-involved and she told me if it came, I'd take it on, claiming she knew me.
This weekend, it's starting to warm up...and I feel like there's a stride approaching that's going to fall right into my steps. And everything I want or need or think I don't need but do...they're all going to fall into place in the next 6 months. I say that without hope or ego, honestly...and because of that, it's as good as truth.
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