From 1999 to 2004-ish, I was one of the contributing writers for Garrison Keillor's renowned radio show "A Prairie Companion." I learned a lot of things there, mostly how to spell 'prairie." It was a solid gig and I'm proud of my work there. But, like any other job, there were...things...
Back in 2004 there wasn't a heck of a lot of post-State Of The Union follow-up comedy. But that year Bush took a moment to speak out against steroid use in baseball, and while it is a valid concern, many wondered why it came up in a SOTU address. But that remark was the inspiration for a sketch: other things the President didn't get to bring up or fully explain. The bit went well and was surprisingly true to the script I submitted. Yet, there was no credit for me, on air or on the website. I noticed that there's no credit for Keillor online either.
This is a bitter sweet sketch for me, it's the last sketch of mine that they used. I actually continued to submit to the show for the remainder of the 2003-2004 season, and the next two beyond--I was even sending material well into 2007, and occasionally after that--but none of it was acknowledged. I was not really fired, no one asked me to go away, I just petered out. I just wasn't making the cut and after a while of that I just stopped sending things in. It was sad and frustrating but unsurprising based on all my previous experience there.
Writing is a solitary profession. I always dreamed of joining that comedy room or being part of a team. I wanted to belong to something that I wanted to belong to. Style Without Substance, the WGAE, the Plague, PHC, workshops, but something always eluded me. Sometimes they ended and it felt like I was dropped to the curb. Mostly it involves my lack of social skills, I'm civil, personable but I'm an introvert and can't exist outside my comfort zone for long. When my excuse for being with people ends, I am incapable of maintaining that relationship. It's happened with classmates, committee members and co-writers. I just retreat to my hidey-hole and look for the next place to mail by submissions out to.
Years ago, I was once talking with my friend; we were both writing and we both had day jobs. I hadn't really told anyone at work about what I did on the side and I asked him if he had. He promptly said no. And it was never something he considered. To him, "writer" was his secret identity and his super power. Sometimes I forget that. I'm a writer. Yes, there's the day job and the family and the chores and the kids, but the core issue remains; I'm a writer. And the fact is, working on this blog has reminded me of that. It's not a stellar career but it it mind.
Anyway, on Jan. 24, 2004, PHC presented my State o'Union sketch (with my original script posted below).
This is a bitter sweet sketch for me, it's the last sketch of mine that they used. I actually continued to submit to the show for the remainder of the 2003-2004 season, and the next two beyond--I was even sending material well into 2007, and occasionally after that--but none of it was acknowledged. I was not really fired, no one asked me to go away, I just petered out. I just wasn't making the cut and after a while of that I just stopped sending things in. It was sad and frustrating but unsurprising based on all my previous experience there.
Writing is a solitary profession. I always dreamed of joining that comedy room or being part of a team. I wanted to belong to something that I wanted to belong to. Style Without Substance, the WGAE, the Plague, PHC, workshops, but something always eluded me. Sometimes they ended and it felt like I was dropped to the curb. Mostly it involves my lack of social skills, I'm civil, personable but I'm an introvert and can't exist outside my comfort zone for long. When my excuse for being with people ends, I am incapable of maintaining that relationship. It's happened with classmates, committee members and co-writers. I just retreat to my hidey-hole and look for the next place to mail by submissions out to.
Years ago, I was once talking with my friend; we were both writing and we both had day jobs. I hadn't really told anyone at work about what I did on the side and I asked him if he had. He promptly said no. And it was never something he considered. To him, "writer" was his secret identity and his super power. Sometimes I forget that. I'm a writer. Yes, there's the day job and the family and the chores and the kids, but the core issue remains; I'm a writer. And the fact is, working on this blog has reminded me of that. It's not a stellar career but it it mind.
Anyway, on Jan. 24, 2004, PHC presented my State o'Union sketch (with my original script posted below).
