I've been looking back on my adventure in Hollywood, culling pages from my journal...
It’s the end of the month (March 1991), about two weeks later from my last entries and I somehow built up the courage to call Kimberly the executive myself. I had 30 pages done on the Christmas script. It was taking on a life of its own; some of the same gags, but a different structure. I felt I was building up to the part I liked so I can skimp on the ending village stuff I hated.
I wanted to discuss with Kimberly some of the items she expressed doubt about. The call wasn’t helpful. She’s been sick. She seemed unfocused. Unconcerned. This was worrisome. Despite this, I was thinking of sending her another script of mine (a little something I called “Wedding in Wisconsin”) and get some interest in that. Get a sale. Get some cash. Replace our car.
Here’s the thing; all this time I’m writing the Kringle script, at no point did it occur to me to seek out an agent or any representation of my own. My cousin the lawyer really didn’t do that. But did it occur to me to call and ask if there was someone in the business who might? No, it did not. All I saw was the project at hand. Did I assume Kevin was going to take care of my in the long run? I did and that was a foolish assumption. Certainly Joel and Bill’s constant inferences of future gigs seemed enough for me. But this was as hot as my iron was going to get, I should have struck and struck hard. I guess this is my biggest regret of the whole affair, not thinking ahead (also, giving Kevin a huge chunk of my initial cash). So naive. So trusting. I was a married adult with two kids, yet I acted like a babe in the woods, dependent on the kindness of strangers instead of being proactive and taking charge of my career. This was a major misstep on my part, as evidenced by my 40th year here at my desk job.
And that’s all I’m gonna say ‘bout that.
Here’s the thing; all this time I’m writing the Kringle script, at no point did it occur to me to seek out an agent or any representation of my own. My cousin the lawyer really didn’t do that. But did it occur to me to call and ask if there was someone in the business who might? No, it did not. All I saw was the project at hand. Did I assume Kevin was going to take care of my in the long run? I did and that was a foolish assumption. Certainly Joel and Bill’s constant inferences of future gigs seemed enough for me. But this was as hot as my iron was going to get, I should have struck and struck hard. I guess this is my biggest regret of the whole affair, not thinking ahead (also, giving Kevin a huge chunk of my initial cash). So naive. So trusting. I was a married adult with two kids, yet I acted like a babe in the woods, dependent on the kindness of strangers instead of being proactive and taking charge of my career. This was a major misstep on my part, as evidenced by my 40th year here at my desk job.
And that’s all I’m gonna say ‘bout that.
I was still writing and prepping to send pages to Kevin.
As April began, I did send the pages to Kevin. No call. No FedEx. Just dropped it in the mail. I was having trouble sticking to the outline, and was pretty much tired of wrestling it back to that template.
I still hadn’t worked up the nerve to call Kimberly the executive.
The day after I mailed the pages, Kevin called but I missed it. Then I got up the nerve and called Kimberly. Naturally, I didn’t get her, and just left a message.
By the halfway mark of April, I had reached page 59, but was struggling. Kevin called again. He hadn’t read the pages I mailed but wanted to let me know he picked up a gig as associate producer on a TV show “True Stories.” “Well, good for him,” I probably didn’t sincerely write.
Just a few days later, Kevin called again. Early (for him). These California people would generally call me anywhere from 8 to 10.
Anyway, Kevin liked the pages I sent. (“Big deal, he has no pull”) Joel and Bill are “studying” them. This time they plan to do a line-by-line review of the script to make sure I didn’t write anything untoward or outside industry standards. I should not attempt humor in my scene descriptions, they seemingly all agree on that. I write that I should probably get hold of some script to read and absorb the proper format (back in the days before script-ware). Also, he’d like me to check the option expiration date on the Warner contract. Something brewing????
As April began, I did send the pages to Kevin. No call. No FedEx. Just dropped it in the mail. I was having trouble sticking to the outline, and was pretty much tired of wrestling it back to that template.
I still hadn’t worked up the nerve to call Kimberly the executive.
The day after I mailed the pages, Kevin called but I missed it. Then I got up the nerve and called Kimberly. Naturally, I didn’t get her, and just left a message.
By the halfway mark of April, I had reached page 59, but was struggling. Kevin called again. He hadn’t read the pages I mailed but wanted to let me know he picked up a gig as associate producer on a TV show “True Stories.” “Well, good for him,” I probably didn’t sincerely write.
Just a few days later, Kevin called again. Early (for him). These California people would generally call me anywhere from 8 to 10.
Anyway, Kevin liked the pages I sent. (“Big deal, he has no pull”) Joel and Bill are “studying” them. This time they plan to do a line-by-line review of the script to make sure I didn’t write anything untoward or outside industry standards. I should not attempt humor in my scene descriptions, they seemingly all agree on that. I write that I should probably get hold of some script to read and absorb the proper format (back in the days before script-ware). Also, he’d like me to check the option expiration date on the Warner contract. Something brewing????
