I've been looking back on my adventure in Hollywood, culling pages from my journal...
I didn’t write an entry for eight days. I even admit in the first sentence that I should have written sooner, while it was fresh in my mind. But, I reviewed the WGAE Awards dinner, nonetheless. “It was either good or horrible.” At the conclusion of the evening, we on the committee felt really up about it and thought it went well (not counting that jerk Herb Sargent cancelling the second skit while the first was in progress). We learned later that our committee director got intense negative feedback the next morning. It wasn’t clear if it was a lot of negative feedback or just from the V.I.P.s. Or just a lot from one person. But certain people hated it.
Into February ’93, “my” “agent” Robbins read my Seinfeld spec and liked it enough for me to rework it a bit. He said he could get it to the Seinfeld company (“It’ll be nice getting rejected by a higher level of talent”). I even decide to take my “Dashing Dan” script and convert it into a Seinfeld episode. Nothing like over-doing it at the slightest evocation. Additionally, I decided to pull out some scripts and submit them to some comic company, two things I had co-written with John Rawlins (our radio script “Capt. Useless” and a pilot we pitched to the “Galaxy Ranger” folks, “Tech-Mech”).
I didn’t write in my journal until half-way into January 1993. Heard from the agent Robbins. He passed on the second script I sent him, “Dashing Dan.” But he thinks it might make a good 2-part “Seinfeld.” Oy. I decide to send him my “Seinfeld” spec, based on my “Wedding” script, “He might get a kick out of that.”
I didn’t write in my journal until half-way into January 1993. Heard from the agent Robbins. He passed on the second script I sent him, “Dashing Dan.” But he thinks it might make a good 2-part “Seinfeld.” Oy. I decide to send him my “Seinfeld” spec, based on my “Wedding” script, “He might get a kick out of that,” sez I.
So, as it turns out, my big reason for joining the WGA Activities committee, to get a workshop going, was misdirected at best. I was on the wrong committee. Another committee, the Programs committee, would do something like that.
We reach February 1992, and I had finished and sent off “Like Magic.” I’m surprised to read that I had serious doubts about it at the time. Now, I have fond memories of it (In fact, I’m supposed to be working on it). But I was also annoyed that my Hollywood connections (Kevin, Bill and Joel) didn’t want to see any of my scripts, they just wanted to consider stuff they pitched to me.
September ended with nothing going on, which bled into October. No word on anything. My new Atari PC was replaced, so that meant I had to get back to work on something.
Later, word was coming out of Hollywood that Paul Ruebens was already at work re-building his career, and leaving Pee-Wee at the wayside for the time being. So, hurray for him. ABC announced it was getting out of the late night business. Not my fault!
As August 1991 drew to a close, things were still tumbling around. My Hollywood connection, Kevin, wanted a progress report on the re-write of “Jingle Bell Blues” (the old title of the now-former Pee-Wee Herman script) as he had a pitch meeting with William Morris coming up. He also wanted to pitch a cable comedy featuring comedy troupes (like Style Without Substance), which came out of that comedy festival he attended with me a year earlier. He wanted me to put together a list of groups for him.
Mid-August 1991, word comes in from Hollywood. Kevin wants to know how the “Magic” script is coming. Again. Once that’s out of the way, he remembers to tell me that “Kringle” is being sent to the William Morris Agency, as well as a couple of other places. But mostly he wants the “Magic” script.
Bill, from “Party” calls to assign me some bits to write. I note in my log that this is a good sign because the writer meetings have generally been without form. I write that some “kid” on the staff seems to have made an impression on people and might wind up as an on-screen character (“Oh, well.”)
Freelance writer, still hacking away.