The people that (actually) know me, know that I write.
I take it seriously. It's not a hobby. I'm a writer. I don't use it as something "cool" to say to people, while I'm in Starbucks sipping a latte and discussing the finer points of 'War & Peace'. It's not something I have to bandy about so that people respect my intelligence.
You're reading this. If you haven't ascertained my intelligence level yet, I've really f*cked up. I mean that in the most humble manner. Seriously.
For the past 9 months, I've been developing a few ideas for TV. Not only have I been working out the logistics of creating a "show bible" and trying to write characters that "work", I've also been sending out sample/spec scripts to various agencies/production shingles/networks. I call myself trying to stoke as many fires as possible (without doing too much and failing before I start).
Monkeys have been rocketed into outer space. I should be able to write a TV show.
I've probably written more in the last year than I have in my entire 3.5 years of college. Yep. 3.5. Me and the title of that first Kanye album have a lot in common.
And I'm not saying that with pride. Nope. That sh*t is frowned upon around here. My disregard for the pursuit of institutionalized academia doesn't sit well with some of my family members. The waste of a higher education garners you being thought of as the "bright scholar-turned-hoodlum". At the family gatherings, I'm a walking, talking 'Good Will Hunting'.
Yeah, Aunt Rose.....I agree. With all these "smarts", I could've been something.
What people don't see is the dedication. As God (whichever one(s) you pray to) as my witness, I'm writing so much that I'm blurring my fingerprints. Long nights are followed by pensive days, where you do nothing but edit the ideas in your head. You write notes on post-its, notebook paper and, occasionally, the oddly placed burrito napkin. Usually, this takes place at a day job. You know? The place you go, that hands out those weekly mule droppings that they call a "paycheck"? Time has been passed, on many a mundane job, thinking about the projects that I have in the cooker.
The other side of this laborious coin is the business aspect. Not only do you have to be creative and actually think of witty things to write, you also have to be a studious businessman. You have to send emails, follow up on said emails, print scripts, ship packages, assemble portfolios, revise scripts, write further drafts, do table reads, make phone calls, hound agents/managers/producers, track submissions, get meetings, take meetings, finesse contacts and track your own career.
That's the non-glamorous part of it. That's the part you hope pays off. That's the part that has you ordering Chinese food at 1 a.m. (after a long night of writing), wondering if you threw your life away.
But make no mistake. This is the beginning. When I make the "big sale", I won't have to do this sh*t. I can have my clan of curvaceous female assistants (who work part-time as my Samurai security team) handle the operatic details. That way, when I wake up, I can start my day off by diving in a pool of powder blue M&M's.....Scrooge McDuck-style. All I'll have to do is come up with the hits. I can do that. But am I doing this solely for the loot? Nope. Actually, I don't even need a bunch of money. Gimme enough to take care of my family, buy books, buy some records and get myself the occasional pair of sneakers. I'm good. You can have the rest. I really don't need it. Are you listening Hollywood producers? It doesn't take much to woo me.
1. A bag of cash (preferably $20's and $1's).
2. A gift card to Barnes & Noble (or a visit to a discarded Borders warehouse).
3. An open tab at either: Flight Club NY/LA, Ubiq, Sole Brother, or DQM.
Do that for me and I'll give you something that stays on TV longer than The Simpsons. The lesser my worries, the easier the creative juice.
In the meantime? I keep writing.
Day job? I'm trying to see what's so necessary about this "necessary evil". Thinking about your day job can make a dick go limp at an orgy.....unless you're a porn star. But I digress. Ghostwriting=cash. Not insane amounts. Not chicken scratch either. It's okay money. I can't complain. There's also the "fixing" I do on the collegiate level. You get that windfall and it's a sweet Christmas for everybody. There were times where I've paid my rent with two days worth of work.
Thank you, college kids.....and your G.I. Bills.
That's where I'm at, boys & girls. Uncle Ziti is trying to make this happen.....for us. Yes. For us. I don't want to go on this ride alone. F*ck that noise. I have to bring some of you with me. You're going to want to document this excursion into Tinseltown.
Why?
This will be one of the few times that you'll see someone navigate Hollywood (and all of its trappings) and not lose/sell his soul in the process.
Somebody, grab my pistol and my prayer beads.
