I had dinner with two of my oldest friends, last night -- Karl & Carrie Armstrong. Karl & I've known each other since college, when we were both taking film classes, and started out planning to make movies together. Carrie's his wife. In fact, we all did help each other out in various projects over the years -- Karl directing, me writing -- and she became an actress. He's an editor now for an animation company and she can be seen as the court reporter in "The Social Network." So...after dinner he and I were talking about plans for the future and I found myself slipping back into my "it's just possible" state.
That's when I start thinking, "If I could just sell one script for Guild minimum, I could live in LA and work as a writer and everything would be perfect." I quickly convince myself that's all it would take -- working up just the right screenplay to convince someone it's worth making this into a movie. My work's just as good as the other crap that's showing up in theaters, these days -- hell, it's better. Everyone who's read my scripts tells me my characters are solid and real and my stories interesting. All I need is one break and the world will see I'm the next Orson Welles and Karl is the next Stephen Spielberg.
It's the stuff Hollywood dreams are made of...and maybe it was true, once upon a time...even as recently as the late 80's, when independent features could use special tax breaks to secure funding and video rentals were beginning to explode across the country. But then Reagan killed the breaks and a lot of crap got made so the Indie market collapsed and was folded into the studios...and now everything operates under different rules. Rules I can't figure out nor can be bothered to learn, because what they want to make is not what I want to write.
But that didn't stop me from thinking about it, just like a junkie contemplating just one more fix or a smoker wanting one last "last cigarette." And I'm still telling myself all I'd need to do is pull together enough money to make a good micro-budget movie that'd kick butt and force people to take notice...which is REALLY easy to do, right? It's crazy.
But it fits my mindset. My genetic makeup. I still bite my nails and hate to drink any soda but Dr. Pepper and always order cheese enchiladas at a Mexican food restaurant and get just plain lazy when confronted with a pile of work so put it off. Nothing special about me, there.
And yet...I still dream...and think, "It's possible."
That's when I start thinking, "If I could just sell one script for Guild minimum, I could live in LA and work as a writer and everything would be perfect." I quickly convince myself that's all it would take -- working up just the right screenplay to convince someone it's worth making this into a movie. My work's just as good as the other crap that's showing up in theaters, these days -- hell, it's better. Everyone who's read my scripts tells me my characters are solid and real and my stories interesting. All I need is one break and the world will see I'm the next Orson Welles and Karl is the next Stephen Spielberg.
It's the stuff Hollywood dreams are made of...and maybe it was true, once upon a time...even as recently as the late 80's, when independent features could use special tax breaks to secure funding and video rentals were beginning to explode across the country. But then Reagan killed the breaks and a lot of crap got made so the Indie market collapsed and was folded into the studios...and now everything operates under different rules. Rules I can't figure out nor can be bothered to learn, because what they want to make is not what I want to write.
But that didn't stop me from thinking about it, just like a junkie contemplating just one more fix or a smoker wanting one last "last cigarette." And I'm still telling myself all I'd need to do is pull together enough money to make a good micro-budget movie that'd kick butt and force people to take notice...which is REALLY easy to do, right? It's crazy.
But it fits my mindset. My genetic makeup. I still bite my nails and hate to drink any soda but Dr. Pepper and always order cheese enchiladas at a Mexican food restaurant and get just plain lazy when confronted with a pile of work so put it off. Nothing special about me, there.
And yet...I still dream...and think, "It's possible."
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