Breaking Into Hollywood.
So here’s the scene. It was a Saturday backyard birthday party and barbeque for a friend’s ten-year-old. The winter afternoon was crisp enough for sweaters. I’d assumed my usual posture, Diet Coke in one hand, enjoying a little adult conversation while keeping one eye on the unheated swimming pool. No kids were swimming. And that’s [...]Read More »
I get this call about once a year. It could be from a family member or a friend or a former colleague. But it usually involves a friend of a friend with a son or daughter who is interested in a career in the movies. They ask if I’d be adverse to meeting this young [...]Read More »
Strange I haven’t written about this before. Especially considering how often I’m asked about breaking into the biz. It’s a constant question. How did you do it? What was your break? Who helped you or how did you help yourself? Not unlike my dubious career, the answer is mundane yet pretty informative. I called the [...]Read More »
This is one of my favorite tales. I’ve told it many times. At social occasions, I’m often asked by those who’ve already heard the story to repeat it with luster. Of course, there’s an eventual life lesson to be found near the end. Until that moment, enjoy this rather foolish example of pure, youthful moxie. [...]Read More »
One July 4th weekend I was invited to join a small collection of William Morris lit agents who were planning to get independent down Texas way. Advertised was a big family lake house near Waxaramalamahachie where I was promised a front-row seat to an authentic, Lone Star blowout. I fully expected a sweaty, four-day mix [...]Read More »
With your permission, let me set the scene. The place was a casual-styled conference room at a movie studio. The characters in the room were the studio’s president of production, his younger executive VP of development, a pair of even younger creative execs marking on trademark legal pads, and yours truly, El Scribbelador. The subject [...]Read More »
I was in a meeting with a Dreamworks executive. Somehow we got sidetracked into the always entertaining subject of “the strangest place a writer tried to slip you a screenplay.” “On my wedding day,” Deb began. “In the temple, wearing my wedding dress, waiting for my father to walk me down the aisle. The rabbi [...]Read More »