Time out:

Hi Everyone. There is something to be said for reality checks. Especially in this business. As it happens, real things come along that are more important-- and/or more necessary to the immediate needs of survival-- than the constant and unyeilding demands of the quest to get your screenplay read. In my case, this meant looking for a job. It took more than six months. I was sick and tired of being sick and tired with the maintenance required by the entwined frustrations of miserable wages and creative brilliance. I was bursting into tears over helpful suggestions or reminders from friends and fans. Supposed statements of support like, "The story that is in your script is a door. A door that opens onto another world, with all its possibilities. That reader just now doesn't know it's a door. Can't even SEE it's a door." Or the get-tough advice from a priority fan who wants to do the soundtrack-- "I've just read your script for the fifth time. And oh my god, the music started coming right into my head. We have to talk. Soon."-- if the thing can ever get made. He's had alot of experience in the industry: "You are TOO sensitive! This is a tough business! Your skin has GOT to get thicker!!" Somewhere back there, about a year ago, the energy started to fsss out... probably in a tiny stream noticeable only to me. I wasn't defeated by the Forces That Be, no. But when society keeps choosing to put the money down-- to place its bets and, energetically, thereby bring about what they are hoping to "have"-- on creating stories of turning jetliners into fuel missiles, weapons of mass destruction, well then. Where in the world...? Where in this world is the time and the place for another world with all its possibilities? Where. The door remains shut. Because so few can see it. So... it was meaningful and necessary to do the networking, hop on planes to hand-deliver scripts to newly self-professed dotcom producers in the bubble before it burst and they ended up slouching back to much reduced mini-kingdoms in their hometowns, to track down Holllywood legends in far off cities, make the phonecalls across the world, become a name (at least) to studio heads and genius directors right before the academy awards. But. So what? Perhaps my friends and fans are right. So what. Who cares. Reality check. Change of heading. Change of course. Change. Of course! The primary fact is that writing won't pay the bills. Not until it DOES pay the bills. Fortunately, I made a decision long ago that I would need a day job which had both a measure of professionalism to it and some progress up the wage scale, while still allowing me hours of quiet to be in my own head and/or to write. My reality check was that I KNOW the really great jobs in my field are out there. They are very few and far between, but they are there. And, fifteen years into it, it was time to find one. Meanwhile, the script and all the others waiting to be written got set on the side burner. On low. Doesn't mean giving up. Just means that the maintenance can be maintained, without it being a priority. And... life continues to happen! Amazing things arrive. There are still small and large events to be experienced, and written about eventually. Reality checks, after all, are about life.   (c) HM, 2001

This reality check has created three primary things; the professional position that relocates me to London in November, a brand-new fiance with all his endearments and surprises, and emergent networks for the script. One of the wonderful things about having friends and colleagues who are more gregarious than myself is their remarkable ability to make contacts in unlikely places. Unlikely: like bars, because I don't like bars. Nevertheless, a couple of weeks ago, a colleague came in to work late one morning and told me her tale of the bar the night before. Later, we both then return to the bar. She points out the producer she met. I offer to buy her a drink, which I deposit at her table before returning to my ulterior motive of finishing my conversation with the producer. Even as an unknown screenwriter, given the fact that I have been at this a few years, I am at the advantage of having a problem with my quest and of needing advice. Hint: do not be afraid of asking for advice. The problem with my quest is that the genius director can't look at any scripts of mine for at least ten years and the studio head won't look at this particular script unless I bring it to her via a colleague she personally knows at a professional level. (This has proven to not just be An Impossible Task but a Total Impossibility Altogether.) The producer listens. His eyes go a little steely. He wants to know who this studio head is. He's never heard of her. He's been in the business for thirty years. PRODUCER: That request of hers? That you bring it to her at an executive level? That's a bunch of bullshit. ME: Yeah, well. But. PRODUCER: If it were me, I'd never speak to her again. ME: That's because you are YOU. And I am just me. The fledgling screenwriter, who got the phonecall from her office. So I am going to try and meet the task she's set out for me. PRODUCER: The problem with her task is that the true professionals in this business will read a script, any script, if it's GOOD. It doesn't MATTER who wrote it, known or unknown, or who handed it to whom. If it's good, it'll get read, and it will get made. ME: See? I KNOW that! THAT'S what I've been saying all along! PRODUCER: Another thing. The true professionals in this business? They WANT to find a good script. Not just because, professionally, it'll bring x amount into their bank accounts or another award to add to their resume. They WANT to find a good script because they want the thrill of discovery, to meet another creative mind. They want to be able to say, "I FOUND this!" ME: See? I KNOW that! That is what I've been looking for! That one person. The one person who is going to fall in love with it and say, "Look what I found!" The producer mentions that he can't give any further advice, really, not having read the script... I say well, I can let you read the script, you want to read the script? He says, sure! Maybe he'll be the one to fall in love with it. Maybe not. If not: next. Or the next. We shall see. cheers--Hilary