I've Been Shockingly Nice

Let's get this out of the way, since I wrote about it openly here: MENAGERIE is dead. My take on the found-footage open writing assignment at Paramount. Apparently, they really liked the short story I wrote but will probably go with a bigger-name writer and a more "middle of the road" concept. But a few more people are now fans of my work, which could theoretically pay off down the line, so bust out the fireworks. Guess I'll just pay rent with I.O.U.s until then!

Some people say a career in the entertainment industry is like riding a rollercoaster. Because there are highs and lows, I assume. But really, it's a poor comparison because a good rollercoaster is FUN ALL THE WAY THROUGH. When you're barreling down a hill on a rollercoaster, it is exhilarating. When your career is barreling down a hill, it is fucking depressing.

Still. My team of reps has been reshuffled. We've got a few things waiting to go and we're about to make a serious go at television for the first time. Last week, I was talking to my new agent (former manager) about it and he suggested that I watch some television to familiarize myself with the medium.

Done.

I watch a truly despicable amount of television so I feel ahead of the game for the first time.

The past couple of weeks have been jarring with highs and lows, from almost every aspect of my world. I'm trying to reconfigure my life. Reevaluating the things I need and don't need in my life right now. I am capable of some remarkable cruelty when I'm properly motivated...

Everything's about to change.

Requiem for the UWS

Thursday night, I took my magic Metrocard and treated myself to a late dinner on the Upper West Side. It was a cool, autumn evening that only made me more wistful for the times I lived on the UWS, near other friends who've since moved on to parts of Crooklyn. The cleaner streets, the quieter neighborhoods. I chose Artie's Deli, near the movie theater. Ordered the pastrami on rye, which was delightful. Made me miss that expensive little studio I lived in on my own, for four years. I loved that place. When I could afford it comfortably, it was some of the best years of my adult life.

This is starting to sound like a suicide note.

Finished what might be the final draft of a short story on Thursday. ("Menagerie".) Sent it to my managers. Fielded a conference call for the current script-in-progress "Harrowgate" in the afternoon. Altogether, it felt like a productive day. With this career, I feel like I've been living on prayers and faith. Something has got to pay off soon.

This has been a difficult September. I've worked hard and fought demons. These difficult times are when you really earn the path you've chosen.

Have a safe weekend, Constant Reader.

Ceci n'est pas une pipe.

You know what takes a toll? Locking yourself up in your room for the better part of a long weekend and forcing yourself to finish writing a horror story. You'd figure a 14-page short story wouldn't be the most difficult thing in the world but there is a craft to it. I will slave over sentences, second-guess the use of specific words or the layout of a description. Read and reread and rework and reread. 14 pages can be Mount Everest.

Well, when it needs to be perfect, it needs to be dead solid perfect.

Sent the revised draft to my managers Tuesday morning. They volleyed back a few small notes almost immediately. I worked on the final (?) revisions into the evening and emailed the new copy to my managers.

And now... it ought to be out of my hands. Once more, my fate rests upon the whims of a few executives.

My friend was released from the hospital on Monday, without any answers for what caused his ailment. Then he had to be checked back into the hospital on Tuesday because his problems returned. He's already endured a barrage of tests which have brought no enlightenment. My faith in modern medicine diminishes accordingly.

Wake Me Up When September Ends

Went to visit my friend again in the ICU this mourn. They're set to transfer him to another room. Possibly another hospital with better resources to figure out what's malfunctioning inside his body. He's been in hospital for 5 days thus far and we're still waiting on answers. Feels like the Dark Ages. Is the modern state of medicine really still reduced to educated guesses...? Shots in the dark. And you're too late.

Keeping bizarre hours trying to revise writing and generate new material. Some of these may go on to be something larger. Some may die preemptively. But I cannot afford to piss away opportunities. It is goddamn September already. This is destroying me. I cannot let this destroy me.

Write for the Fight to Party

I get absolutely fucking stir-crazy when I'm writing. I dream this sensation will be alleviated one day when I can afford a nicer place to live. Till then, I work under the conditions I have to work under.

The archive of this blog's past five years is littered with entries about Dead Projects. Projects I busted my hump on that went nowhere. That stalled, fizzled. Open Writing Assignments that went off to other writers. It's one of the reasons I'm reluctant to offer specifics about projects I'm currently working on.

But today... fuck it.

My manager called Monday night.

I've been writing this new script called "Harrowgate", targeted at Dark Castle. My manager suggested putting it on hold while I focus on another potential paycheck.

I've been vying for this found-footage project at Paramount. Takes place in a hotel. I've been calling my take on the project "Menagerie". Other writers are actively campaigning for this gig so it would behoove me to finish this document as soon as possible. I gave my managers a rough draft of a treatment just over a week ago and thought it was DOA since they didn't get back to me immediately, but I got some feedback Monday. I'm stripping away some of the formal treatment aspects of document and refashioning it more like a short story. Which, in a way, is liberating. I miss writing prose. I'm not going to be in the room or on the phone pitching this one, so this document has got to stand on its own and be excellent. No pressure there.

Additionally, my managers are throwing my name in the sorting hat to write the new AMITYVILLE HORROR movie that Dimension is developing. Not a reboot but a sequel. And it's going to be done as another found-footage because they're so goddamn cheap to make. I love it. I'll do anything. What soul?

No updates offered on "Cadavers". I'm always afraid to ask for updates on specific projects. I just assume if there's any concrete news, they'll bring it up. What's the point in worrying over the things I have no control over?

So this week: HARROWGATE on hold while I knock out MENAGERIE and make it brilliant. I need this.