Dreams never die

I spent 30 years trying to kick-start a career as a screenwriter, getting nowhere. Some of my scripts won awards or placed high in screenplay competitions. I got requested by production companies. Even had an agent, for a while. And came to within a single decision as to whether or not a script of mine would get sold...and nothing ever did.

Seriously. I had a horror story set in Ireland, dealing with an ancient tale about harpies and human sacrifice, and had a director and a producer on board to shoot it in Ireland and Canada. It was one of my award-winners. But then it got to the guy who actually authorizes the projects' budgets, and despite having solid support, he tossed it aside. His reason? "We already got one movie to be shot in Ireland; I don't want another one."

That's the been the story throughout my screenwriting career. Close...but no cookie. I mean, I've made a little money writing scripts, but I've made a lot more with my self-published books. None of them are huge sellers; I'm too niche for that. But looking back at the last eight years of my book sales, all of them through my own imprint (KMSCB), this seems to be the direction I should always have gone.

Still, that hope...that dream of selling a script and getting it made is worked into my DNA. And while I wrote Porno Manifesto as my fuck you script, behind it was also the hope that it might break through. And once again, it was close but no cookie. I got it into Border2Border Productions, which focuses on gay material, and they said no thanks. I sent it into a few competitions and wound up a finalist in one; others are still pending.

Which kept the spark alive. The embers of hope glowing deep inside. I guess working in film is like a drug to an addict. You can quit but you will still always have the urge to return to it. And. it hurts me to admit that still is in me, even though I know it's impossible.

But the heart wants what it wants.