Justice

(Years Three/Four of Robb’s Illustrious Career)

My third/fourth year in the business I worked for this show-runner who was a real piece of work. He was the most hated figure I’ve ever worked for. He made The Weasel look like a normal, well-adjusted human being. From the writers room to the production office to the stage, everybody hated him.

This guy was a harsh dictator. I’ve never seen anybody better at shutting down creativity in a room. Writers pitching jokes or brainstorming ideas would be cut off and dismissed mid-sentence, mid-pitch. Nice. The in-joke in the writers room was that if he was looking for an integer between 2 and 4 and you pitched 3, you would get shot down.

Strangely, this guy was also helpless. He couldn’t do anything by himself. He had no personal assistant, so we were ALL his personal assistant. I was personally called by the guy on a weekend and compelled to help him out with something personal. Let me repeat, I was NOT his personal assistant. My son was an infant at the time, but apparently the guy didn’t think I had anything more important to do on a Sunday morning than get in the car and go help him out. The in-joke in the production office was that you might get a call from the guy in the toilet demanding that you come help him with the paperwork.

One day Mr. Sunday Morning said his computer monitor “flickered.” I was called into his office and yelled at when I could see no flickering. Well, actually, he didn’t yell, he rolled his eyes condescendingly and told me to go find somebody else – anybody else – to come in his office to confirm the flickering. No matter how many assistants and then producers were called in, NO ONE else could see any flickering. The line producer called the computer rental company and had the non-flickering computer and monitor replaced. Twice. Guess what? Mr. Sunday Morning said it still flickered. I will never forget this: I was personally in his office, along with the line producer and all the writers and some of the cast, when Mr. Sunday Morning became enraged and literally shouted to the heavens, “Why does no one else see this flickering?!”. Everybody in the room was acutely aware of the obvious reason. Everybody except him.

He was fired. Well, I got ahead of myself. First the executive producer was told – by everyone – about this guy. Producers were running around in circles wasting time and money on crap for him. The executive producer’s hand-picked writers were not being allowed to write or even contribute, and were threatening to quit. Nobody was happy. A few shows in, production was shut down and Mr. Sunday Morning was given a serious talking-to. After that, he was on his best behavior. At considerable expense, we spent weeks retooling. An additional writer was brought in to clear the air and “reset” the writers room. Writers’ contributions were welcomed and accepted. Everything was back on track, and everyone was happy.

Until we started taping again. With the stress of production, the dictatorial prima donna control freak jerk returned and everything went back to the way it was. A few shows into this second part of the season, the executive producer unexpectedly appeared on the lot, went into Mr. Sunday Morning’s office, and fired him. Security escorted him off the lot.

It was wonderful. It was… justice.

For weeks afterward it was like the laws of gravity did not apply in our little world. As my Uncle Bernard used to say, “When you hit your thumb with a hammer as hard as you can over and over and over… it feels so good when you stop.” The rest of the season was filled with sweetness and light. And with cruel, unrelenting jokes from everyone about the disgraced, fired jerk. The satisfaction was overwhelming. The world is fair after all.

Or is it?

Four years later, I saw Mr. Sunday Morning’s name on a movie poster. And I about lost my lunch. He wrote a movie – a big, successful, $100+ million Hollywood blockbuster. And later that same year, he did it again. He wrote ANOTHER big, successful, $100+ million Hollywood blockbuster. Movies with BIG HUGE stars. And prominent, beloved, cult-following directors. I am not making this up. The guy made it big. Twice in one year. The disgraced jerk hadn’t faded away, he just moved… into movies. And looking at imdb, his plate is still quite full. This guy is a huge success. We got cancelled, but he made it big.

He sure showed us.

In the years since, I have tried to figure out the true meaning of these events. You know, the big, cosmic truth. Was Mr. Sunday Morning really a jerk? Yes. Is he really a successful writer? Yes. Is he successful BECAUSE he is a jerk? Or in spite of this? Or is there any relationship between these whatsoever? For me, this is the question. Young P.A.s and assistants often ponder this issue, because the vast majority of the time in the business the people in charge (like Mr. Sunday Morning and The Weasel) are dictatorial prima donna control freak jerks. So do people become dictatorial prima donna control freak jerks BECAUSE they are successful and are allowed to get away with anything? Or do they become successful BECAUSE they are dictatorial prima donna control freak jerks to begin with? Is one a prerequisite for the other? If so, which one? Can you really be successful if you are NOT a dictatorial prima donna control freak jerk? Or will all normal, nice, well-adjusted writers become dictatorial prima donna control freak jerks once they become successful?

And which one am I?

Why They Call it the “First” Draft

“The artist’s life is frustrating not because the passage is slow, but because he imagines it to be fast.”
- David Bayles & Ted Orland, “Art & Fear,” 1993

“The first draft of Psycho Ex is killing me not because it is a bad first draft, but because I was hoping it was the final draft.”
- Robb, 2009

Based upon the macro feedback from a few rounds of readers, Psycho Ex has some problems. Specifically:

• The first act/half is WAY too slow
• The middle is confusing
• The third act is somewhat clunky
• Nobody “gets” the ending

So it’s merely the beginning, the middle, and the end that need work. I guess that’s why they call it the “first” draft.

Bit the Bullet

After days of agonizing I finally uploaded Psycho Ex (it has a new title) to zoetrope.com for peer review.

I don’t know why I still feel like the thing isn’t done – it’s currently on its third round of readers and responses have been positive. It’s as if there’s some threshold I still haven’t crossed, but I don’t know what it is.

The script will be up for 30 days and due to the way the site/community is designed it should get 4 or 5 reviews. We’ll see how it goes.

Next stop after that: agent queries, contests, and inktip.

Home with Parker

I’m at home with a sick Parker (age 4). We’re watching videos about flights to the moon.

I asked Parker if he is going to be an astronaut when he grows up and go to the moon. He said no. I asked him what he is going to be. He said a teacher.

Then he asked me what I’m going to be when I grow up. I said I don’t know.

Movie Poster for Aftershocks

Look what I found! CNN made me the movie poster for Aftershocks! For free!

See? The guy has a dvd drive in his head!

Out to Readers

After an embarrassingly long gestation period, a first draft of Psycho Ex (with a name change) has finally gone out to its first round of readers. I should get feedback Tuesday after the long weekend.

This always feels weird. I am happy and satisfied and exhausted and not convinced it’s really happening – like the first week after college finals.

But there is a whole different additional dynamic at play with this one than usual, because – due somewhat to the original “Challenge” - it is much more an exercise than a passion project. Don’t get me wrong, the story was my idea, and I take its execution very seriously, but now that a draft is complete I feel “outside” the thing more than I ever have.

The thing I love/hate about writing is that when I work on something this big and all-encompassing, I get overwhelmed and lost inside it. I fall in love with it, and I don’t know if this is a blessing or a curse. It’s wonderful because I think/hope it adds heart and soul to the piece, but it’s terrible because I lose all objectivity and get lost. For long periods. With almost every script, I can vividly remember THE EXACT MOMENT when everything shifts and I come up for air, when I get back “on top of it,” when I get back outside and un-consumed by it and I start cutting and shaping and whacking at it with no emotional attachment whatsoever. This is when the work really gets done. But this is also when I feel guilty, like I’ve stopped loving someone simply because it is no longer the pragmatic thing to do.

I don’t think I was ever in love with this one. I spent a lot of time in the depths with it, don’t get me wrong, but it was never a passion project like Aftershocks was or Dead Guy is. I was more objective with this one all along, so there are parts of it (Act Two hopefully, Act Three definitely) that I think are better executed than my usual output. I would say I’m very happy with the execution on those (this Act Three is probably the best I’ve ever written). But it never took on a life of its own really.

Does this mean it will be less “alive” than it should be? Than it could be? Does this mean there won’t be enough “there” for the reader?

Will the reader know that it has less of a “soul” than it could have had? Or will it just be me?

Or have I finally shaken off the indulgent crap of falling in love with your material? Have I finally got on with the real business of writing?

Update: Just got my first feedback (thanks Tammy!). The weekend is off to a good start…

Random Question #49

How long do you think you could go without communicating with other people?

The Second Honeymoon is Over

The wife and kids got back home Saturday, ending my 8-day writing fest. How’d it go? Pretty well, I’d say. Psycho Ex doesn’t yet have a showable first draft (which was the original goal), but it will by Labor Day. So if you’ve been a script reader of mine before, get ready.

The big highlight/breakthrough of the week occurred at 10:22PM on Tuesday. Lightning struck and the huge bloated mess that was Act Two suddenly came into focus. A bold new Line emerged and I started resequencing and cutting like crazy. The index cards were flying. I’m now pretty psyched about this Act Two – it should turn out to be one of the most active and energetic second acts of all my scripts. I’ve said all along that this script is much more plot than ideas/theme, and right now The Line feels really good.

I’m currently on page 75, plowing forward while rewriting/cutting as I go. Page count is cooperating nicely. Two big scenes (already written) and I’m out of Act Two. Act Three is looking strong too. A couple of wrinkles to finesse still, but I’m in good shape. I’m as excited about this script as I’ve ever been.

By the Numbers:

131 = current page count (down from a peak of 151 and then 143 when the honeymoon began)

200 = blank index cards I had to go out and buy

57 = current number of scenes in the script (some are montages and/or intercut sequences)

10 = page number when we get the big hook/rug-pull moment

2 = number of dinners I had with old friends I haven’t seen much of since the children came

2 = number of people who get killed in the story

1= number of attacks with gardening implements

0 = number of times a character named Bernard Blanchard calls someone a “taffy ass” in the script (have to rectify this before it’s finished)

0 = minutes spent playing Wii for the entire 8 days

countless = number of times I watched this

Scene from the Second Honeymoon

Here’s the living room floor on Day 5. It’s not as glamourous at it looks…

Some of the notecards are blank – those scenes have been written, I just haven’t done notecards yet because I’m not there yet. (Somewhere in there are a few script pages from David Lynch’s Lost Highway. Yes, I’m stealing from the best.) The big empty space in the floor is for me.

Total seconds spent playing Wii so far: zero.

Okay, break’s over.

The Very Pinnacle of Man’s Achievement

Ever wondered why they invented the internet? Wonder no more. I give you nothing less than Shatner and the very pinnacle of man’s achievement. Crank up you audio and start rockin!