xtcian

fox hunting

3/14/04

So Lyle seems to think that I have gone from Breezy Traveler to High Stakes Hollywood Player, and it has reminded me how a blog can sometimes be very poor at communicating the bigger eras in your life. Sure, you get to hear my lugubriation on Hall & Oates, but I forget to tell you the forest from the trees.

First off, in my defense, a lot of freelance work is like having crushes – you don't want to divulge them for fear the information might get back to the object of your desire, and of course there is the lingering "jinx" factor. I couldn't really say what was going on with this Hollywood thing until we were sure it was happening.

So here's the dope: the fabulous Naked Angels theater company partnered with Fox Television to set up an evening of short plays in Los Angeles. Out of a hundred submissions, they chose eight, and as marital bliss would have it, both Tessa's piece and mine were accepted. The show will run for a month in Santa Monica, and at some point, the brass at Fox will show up, see if they like the writing, and perhaps consider some of the plays as possible sitcom ideas.

So, to borrow some 1982 parlance, both Tessa and I are psyched on our bike and have spent the last few days adjusting to the more-intense-than-you-might-think culture shock that occurs when you trade a freezing, neurasthenic day in Brooklyn for the SPF 30 of bright shiny places in Hollywood.

our adopted home for the next two months

My play is being directed by the immensely talented Geoffrey Nauffts, and they're throwing around all kinds of cool names for the two leads (more on that when it gets cast). Tessa is still without a director, but they are offering the parts in her play (two women) to some of the best people in the business.

Casting is a very grueling affair, as you want to make sure that every actor receives your equal attention. Around 6pm, when you've heard the same fourteen lines being repeated by the 43rd hot blonde, you must maintain your attitude and make sure they feel as welcome and as lucky as the first woman on the roster. Casting for The Pink House was a much more intimate affair, with lots of chit-chat, so I've learned a lot from Geoffrey and the casting director's professional demeanor over the last few days.

One thing is for sure: you know what you want when you see it. There is always someone who walks through that door and brings something to your writing that you didn't know was there. That's what makes every bit of this so worthwhile. As a writer new to television (and wanting to keep as low a prima donna profile as possible), I've kept my major opinions to myself, preferring instead to see how this all plays out.

I believe you can move to New York without a plan - and with a lot of work, something will fall into place. As for Los Angeles, you have to be invited. I was not given an invitation in 1997, and thus my three years here were marked by despair, humiliating meetings, johnny-come-lately social scenes, and deeply depressing girl drinks. This time, I walked into the commissary of the Fox movie lot and saw the spectacle: the suit-perfect D-girls sipping coffee while holding four big projects in manila folders, the schlubby editor boys with imported beer love handles and untucked shirts, the actresses clinging to their last seventeen months of being able to land a sitcom, and the graying Hollywood men with impeccable tans from decades in a convertible.

I got my latté, and my first thought was more self-satisfied than I ever allow – despite all the flogging, the like-minded friends drifting off to other careers, and the detours through dot-coms and nervous breakdowns, I'm still in the game.