Happy 4th of July, everyone! I hope you all had a blast. Pun intended.
So big news: last week, I was scheduled to meet with a super secret Hollywood VIP.
For a kind of meeting that could change my career.
I prepared my best answers to all their potential questions. I put on my coolest clothes and my lucky red shoes. I staged a mock meeting with my cat -- and I have to say, my cat thought I was very charming.
Tuesday night, they called me.
They confirmed the meeting.
They gave me directions.
They put me on hold for just a sec -- and then told me that they had to reschedule. And push back our meeting to several weeks later.
But that's Hollywood, baby :)
And it's a blessing in disguise too. I'm half-way through writing the final draft of a new feature script -- and if I write 3 pages a day, every day, until this meeting -- I'll finish the script just in time to send a copy to this Hollywood VIP.
"It's so crazy, it just might work!"
But then there's another twist: my current employer, the rising writer/director [UNDISCLOSED], apparently likes me so much that he wants me to stay on as his assistant even longer!
So I looked at my calendar and almost died: I will be working a full 8 hours a day and then coming home to write 3 pages a night. Every day. For the next four weeks straight.
I thought about giving up on my crazy writing scheme -- but then I'd come empty-handed to the big meeting.
I thought about asking for time off at work -- but at my boutique production company [UNDISCLOSED], I'm scouting locations and putting together pitches, which beats making copies for minimum wage.
And then it hit me. This is it. This is the dream life.
Working with a hot, new director by day. Writing a hot, new feature by night. I'm Peter Parker with Final Draft instead of a spidey suit.
Of course, I want to get paid gobs of money to work under a studio bigwig. Of course, I want gobs of time to write the perfect script.
But if I try sometimes, I might find... I get what I need.
And now, I must be off. Writer-senses tingling. Thwip!