I've been looking back on my adventure in Hollywood, culling pages from my journal...
January 2, 1992, I began my first entry of the New Year. I marveled over the fact that a year previous I was waiting to hear from Warner, rushing to rewrite “GhostWriter,” getting in the WGA and knocking out pages of “Like Magic.” Even six months earlier I was awaiting word from Pee-Wee’s people about the script and working on “Where’s the Party.” What a turn of events, right? The following six months sucked. I made some vows; finish “Like Magic.” Type up “Dashing Dan.” Write “Holmes Sick.” Or die trying.
Ten days later, Kevin calls. He was gearing up to push the Christmas script, now called “Jingle Bell Blues," and wanted to make sure it was okay with me (“duh”). Also, he was looking to coax a script out of me. He was worried my feelings about writing had changed…just generically asking, though. And in truth, my feelings had changed. I mean, writing specs is technically writing for no real purpose, but it’s what I wanted to put on the page. Writing for the studio, as I mentioned in my journal numerous times, if feel like I was doing it as rote. And I saw the folly; a whole scene, section, script, would be trashed, no matter how much work went into it. And so many promises made and not kept. It was all getting very hamster-wheely.
Kevin tried to buck me up; I had been working on “Magic.” Kevin said Joel & Bill might take it to a friend who was just made president of Paramount (Do I note the name here? I do not.) And Kevin has a friend at some agency. So, theoretically, things are still possible.
Kevin tried to buck me up; I had been working on “Magic.” Kevin said Joel & Bill might take it to a friend who was just made president of Paramount (Do I note the name here? I do not.) And Kevin has a friend at some agency. So, theoretically, things are still possible.
But the January 31st entry begs to differ. I notice now that there are weeks between entries. It’s so quiet, I’m making a point to do a month end entry just to make sure my pen still writes; I mention some minor progress on scripts. My guild healthcare coverage (which I got when I received my first check) is in affect for another year (thanks to that second check). But my mood is changing. I’m complaining about work in my journal. While I had hinted at my misery at work at times during my adventure, now, with no writing news to report, I had gone into a melancholy rant that would dog me for notebooks to come. The New Year brought new expenses, my pay had actually dropped and I was feeling the squeeze. Four people in a 4-room apartment. No yard. No pets. Paycheck to paycheck. My income was all out-go. More and more of my hope, my future seemed to hang on a script sale. Not a good place to hang your hope.
