Real writers must thrive on rejection. Many people are curious as to all the parts coming together
in the creation of a movie and where the writer fits in. I certainly don’t have
time to get into all the credits, but I can tell you why the directors and
producers gain most of the notoriety in creating the film over the writers. The
basic concept of the film, after painstaking attempts to perfect it with
numerous rewrites, resumes hashing by the aforementioned producers and
directors when the writer finishes the creation. At this point, with the
purchase complete, they can slice and dice the film however they see fit. While
this concept stinks, and I’ll probably cry my eyes out after my first sale,
that’s how the industry works. My goal consists of ensuring my vision takes
over.
Speaking of visions taking over, I’ve been submitting to
positions at such a ramped rate I haven’t even placed all of them in my
spreadsheet. I get excited, I suppose. And the resume I submitted through
school, after countless times of resubmitting over the course of over a month,
has only had one hit. I went back and investigated the resume and found I have
one semi-repetitive sentence, however I’ve come to discover my resume cannot be
replaced without even more chatter to my less-than-cooperative liaison. This
guy makes it a point to answer my emails just to talk down to me, I swear.
Because of this waste of time I’ve already dedicated, in addition to searching
on my own to no avail, I’ve decided to wad up the plans and start over. My
phone number, I’ve tried like hell to keep private, has apparently gained
submission onto several calling lists who continually call me offering sales
positions; everything from posing as a food vendor at Costco to selling car wax
at Sam’s Club. I’ve tried advertising agencies, but as soon as I walk in to see
the young and hungry, working-out-for-my-lunch-break bodies, I understand I
don’t belong. I’m a behind-the-scenes personality. So, until I can sell a
screenplay, my future says I’ll continue substitute teaching. There are several
reasons: I can still take grandma to her doctor’s appointments once a month; I
can take the kids to their doctor/dental appointments without having to request
time off; and the schedule suits me dedicating at least two hours a day to
writing. This means I can work my ass off on Vermill!on Beach and submit it to various platforms. Of course I
own the copyright, and will place it on my professional webpage when I have an ample amount of samples perfected and placed, but here’s the logline:
After a century of cryonic sleep, a modern Joan of Arc finds
herself leading a revolution against a tyrannical government—risking everything
for future generations, if she can escape.
Meanwhile, with tomorrow as my daughter’s ninth birthday,
her option for a gift consists of an hour with a tortoise at the zoo. Go
figure, but it’s her dream. Because her actual birthday isn’t until tomorrow, I’ve
reserved a BR ice cream cake tomorrow night, and she’ll also receive a lovely
pair of howling wolf earrings. Okay, they’re pretty inexpensive and purchased
from eBay, but she’s a kid.
My son thrives as one of the star players on his soccer
team, unhappy that his coach would prefer he be goalie because he wants to be
out in the action. I told him if the rest of his team sucks, he’ll have plenty
of action, right?
