It was the end of July, a week after my last entry, when I finally wrote again. I had sent the script. Kevin and Joel read it. Loved it. I had impressed them with the speed and quality. We were then waiting on Bill’s input. At that point we would have to decide if we were passing the script to Warner (They thought it was that solid), just give Kimberly the Executive a look-see or start some changes on our own, like punch up the Lumberjack scene to be as funny as the Square Dance scene. Change the elf Truman’s characterization (he was a bit fey and maybe out of place in this version of the story) and some other odds & ends.
I've been looking back on my adventure in Hollywood...
It was the end of July, a week after my last entry, when I finally wrote again. I had sent the script. Kevin and Joel read it. Loved it. I had impressed them with the speed and quality. We were then waiting on Bill’s input. At that point we would have to decide if we were passing the script to Warner (They thought it was that solid), just give Kimberly the Executive a look-see or start some changes on our own, like punch up the Lumberjack scene to be as funny as the Square Dance scene. Change the elf Truman’s characterization (he was a bit fey and maybe out of place in this version of the story) and some other odds & ends.
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While attempting to keep a regular journal of my trip to Hollywood and its aftermath, it would be two days before I made a new entry to my diary. It was to say that the legal papers had arrived plus Les the Lawyer called to follow up. I learned the Warners’ lawyer is located near where I work in Manhattan (“Maybe when they cut the check I can just run over and pick it up. Ha-ha.”). Les is covering all the bases on this script sale; payments for daytime serial rights (wha?), credit-based bonuses, extra 1st-class tickets for travel if needed. On 7/20, I finished and printed out a full draft of “Pee Wee’s Christmas Caper” (Yeah, we never did settle on a title). Continuing in my diary...My next journal entry is 6 days later, to mark the point where I was getting the first waves of notes on my new script pages. Going into the weekend, Kevin called, telling me he finished the pages and I did “OK.” But he felt I left out some things; Pee Wee’s decision to take the case seems rushed. Trench coat gags weren’t elaborate enough (think Harpo Marx). Pee Wee winds up taking a backseat to the elf character, Tweedle, in the end of the first 45 pages. We need to see Pee Wee playing detective; that was the hook, Pee Wee as a private eye. Yes, it’s Election Day and yes, you need to vote. But like much of my life, it’s a duty, a responsibility. I’m not really a passionate guy, even less so about politics. And I remember when my small bit of passion was doused. It’s 1984. I’m 27. I’m watching the First Presidential debate between Ronald Reagan and Walter Mondale, because as a good American, that’s what you do. Mondale, making some point or other about Regan’s policies said “the fish stinks from the head down.” It’s an old expression. I’ve heard it hundreds of times. But apparently Vice President George Bush hadn’t. At the Vice Presidential debate in October of that year, Bush debated Geraldine Ferraro. Responding to a question, Bush brought up the disgrace of Mondale comparing our President to a “dead, rotting fish.” I sat there watching Bush going out of his way to be offended by this old salt. Really? Had Bush not used or heard that common phrase? And Mondale never called Reagan a “dead, rotting fish.” The worse part was the realization that a group of people had come up with that and definitely wanted that worked into the conversation. The moment certainly stayed with me. The whole concept of politics changed. It was one thing to tout your positions, or play up your opponent’s shortcomings but I was witnessing the birth of a new era in politics, the power of outrage. Whether it was purposely misconstruing an Al Gore joke about a union theme being his lullaby (“That song wasn’t written until he was 20! Liar!”) or Republicans getting all worked up about using the expression “putting lipstick on a pig” in the same sentence as Sarah Palin’s name, it was now the way to do things. When it happened to Al Gore, it’s like he never had the thought to counter it with the reply, “It was a joke, you idiots!” At least by the time of the Sarah Palin incident, the Democrats knew how to respond, actually finding a clip of Palin using the exact same phrase. But that bell couldn’t be un-rung. Feigning outrage was the new norm and I was not a fan. I’ll watch the news. I’ll cast my vote but I won’t be leaping for joy when my candidate wins. It’s politics, and a politician will break your heart every time.
A friend worked on a sci-fi podcast and I wanted to share...
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Dan FiorellaFreelance writer, still hacking away. Archives
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