I be a good righter.

Thursday, December 13, 2007

George Takei, Krispy Kreme and cream cheese!

So, some writers interrupted the Carson Daly show. Including the writers, it must have been the best attended show of its life. Other than that, I find it highly hilarious.


Monday was Star Trek day at Paramount. It was pretty amazing. Very cool. And extremely geeky. Which is, you know, awesome. Also, George Takei nearly pushed a friend of mine into the street (accidentally, of course). I told her that if he had succeeded that her tombstone would read: "George Takei killed me." This incredible guy, Phil, from the "National Enquirer" brought an assload of Krispy Kreme donuts. Yum!

Tuesday was back to the old stomping ground. Brrrrrr. It's cold in the valley. But, you know, the welcome is warm.

Wednesday was the same. But colder.

Today was the same. But I finally wore gloves. Those helped a hell of a lot. Also, fans of MOONLIGHT brought bagels and cream cheese! How fucking cool is that? AND! I saw Tigh's wife from BATTLESTAR GALACTICA! That is also of the extreme cool!

Tomorrow is... who knows. Monday I have a previous engagement so I won't make it to anything anyone's got planned. Including a 7-mile walk that's being cooked up. I'm bummed. But... previous engagement is set in stone. Walk safely, writers!

Chances are nothing will be resolved before the new year. However, I remain cautiously optimistic that an agreement being reached is on the horizon. Here's to continued solidarity!

Sunday, December 09, 2007

FANtabulous. Now with chunks.

So. There were a couple of events happening on Friday. There was the Reality Rally in the Valley and the fans' picket at FOX. FOX is near me, a bunch of my friends were going to be there, and the other one had neither of these things going for it. Please don't get me wrong, I'm still not watching AMERICA'S NEXT TOP MODEL (and who's that REALLY hurting?) since the last Reality unionization fiasco. You know, when reality writers were totally fucked over? So, I'm in full support of the Guild putting that little nugget (as well as animation) back on the table. I just couldn't face driving to the Valley AGAIN.

Plus. Let's be honest. Two words.

Joss and Whedon.

And Tim and Minear.

And Drew and Goddard.

And Jane and Espenson.


The list goes on.

T'was awesome. Buffy sent Krispy Kreme (which gave me a bit of a tummy ache, so, uh, maybe the AMPTP sent 'em).

T'was overwhelming. About 200+ fans showed up. (Edit: Lexigeek has just informed me that it was more than 400 (!!!)) The circles in which we walked had to be widened. Then widened some more. Then widened again. Because it was just that many people. The fans? They are of the complete awesome. And they marched for the full four hours. And they came from far and wide (Australia is the furthest I encountered -- but that's, like, fucking far). And they were troopers.

The writers, the amazing writers, spent many many many moments with the fans. Never once seeming to mind it.

However, I did overhear this (rather unfortunate) exchange between fans and a writer:

Fan #1: Hey! You're *that* writer!

That Writer: I am.

Fan #1: I wanted to say something really clever to you. My friend here was supposed to come up with something really clever.

Fan #1 gestures toward her friend who's standing back a little. Looking painfully shy.

That Writer (jokingly): Why didn't you come up with something really clever???

Fan #1: Go easy on her. She just threw up.

(Note: Prior to this I was just hanging around in the b.g., I'm unashamed to say I moved a little closer at this point.) That Writer looks a little alarmed.

That Writer: She what?

Fan #2: I just threw up. See? It's on my shoe.

All eyes in the general vicinity travel to her shoe.


There's a chunk.

That Writer tries, TRIES like the devil, to look... appreciative of Fan # 2's vomit.

Thankfully, conversation moves away from the vomit topic. That Writer deftly maneuvers through the conversation, and the girls leave satisfied. I have no idea how he did it. Because, frankly, I'm not that gracious. But then, I've never had a fanbase so rabid that they'd vomit at the idea of talking to me (don't get me wrong, there are folks out there who get nauseous at the idea of conversing with me, but that has nothing to do with fandom and everything to do with my being a bitch).

Basically, it was a really incredible (with some odd moments thrown in) event. And I'm now officially a fan of the fans (shhhh! I was a fan of fans before, but now it's official). And, the Pencils movement is incredible. The fans are a strong group. I know the AMPTP is worried -- and that has everything to do with the Fans. Capital F.

On a more sober note: Shit's happening all over the internet in regards to this strike. Major writers with blogs are feeling it's necessary to talk about the strike. One in particular has teased his next post ("gonna be a pretty grim one, I'm afraid"). THEN WHY ARE YOU FUCKING POSTING IT?

Whereas someone else has posted this at United Hollywood. You know what? That's totally what needs to happen. Picketers don't need the armchair quarterbacking from people who haven't deigned to step foot on the line until recently. What we need is morale boosting. At Warner, we keep that shit fun. Because, what's more worrisome to an Exec driving by?

A. A bunch of writers walking in retarded circles, staring at their toes. Or,

B. A bunch of writers who appear that they can totally hang forever. Until way past June.

Again, guys. Poker faces. Everyone needs to practice theirs.

Tomorrow, Star Trek Day! Woo fucking Hoo!

Thursday, December 06, 2007

SCREAM it up.

The days are bleeding together at this point. Though, you'd think with this week's drama at Warner, it wouldn't. There was the day so and so turned up. Another so and so and this so and so have been fighting inside the blogosphere. It came to a very anti-climactic head -- further proving that a lot of people's bluster on the internets is just that. Bluster.

What's nice is that, after a week on vacation, I come back to the line to find that people have actually been wondering where I am. I'm not needed (nor missed) in many avenues of my life, so, you know, hearing this made my week. Hell, it made my rest of the year.

A lot less chanting these days, what with Warner clearly colluding with the city and JACK HAMMERING the fuck out of the streets in front of Gate 2.

One of the people on the line asked me if I'd been sprucing up my specs. I haven't. I don't know why. I've got the energy to write. I've got a spec that's desperate for a make-over. I've got ideas for new specs. Of existing shows. Of pilots. Of, gasp, a feature (an Oscar® contender, natch). Of completely revamping old pilots...

I've got this problem though, I can't really move on to the next thing till I've completed what I know I need to complete on this one pilot spec I'd written a while ago. It weighs on my mind night and day and day and night. Guilt. At this point, though, it's my mom nagging me to get my homework done before I can go out and play.

Look, I know exactly what I need to do to this pilot. As I put it to the amazing Kira, it's like that colored sand in a vase. You know, all these different layers of sand. All a different color from the next. It's nice to look at when it's layered like that. It's even prettier when you take a tooth pick and dip it through the various layers. Each layer then blends, sort of, into the next, just at that point where you used the tooth pick. Haven't been to camp recently? Trust me, it's pretty.


That's my script. It's all pretty layers. Pretty colors. It's pretty to look at. Thing is, the layers are all so different from one another. And they need to be less so. I need to poke a tooth pick through them.

Today on the line, I got talking to a guy who writes for a show I love. A show with similar layers, yet they use the tooth pick -- deftly, I might add. So, you know, we talked forever. And we get around to talking about writing. I decide to broach my issue with my spec pilot. I tell him about the layers (uh, he didn't really get that reference -- hence my lengthy description above). I tell him about my struggle. He talks me through it. It's simple:

Choose which layer is the most important. Ensure that every scene reflects that. He referenced SCREAM, which is actually very apropos -- because that's exactly what I'm trying to do (the merging of two genres -- though neither are horror). He says: it's clear that horror was the obvious layer in SCREAM. Every single scene reflects that. Even when it's an innocuous-seeming high school scene, it at least references the undercurrent of fear.

Maybe this is something y'all already know. I think, somewhere in the back of my mind, it's something I knew.

I would love to end this post with me coming screeching home, opening Final Draft, and poking that tooth pick through all of the sand. Alas, life got in the way. But, I know what I need to do now. And, I have a plan of attack.

Oh, and I found out today that because of government brilliance, hubby and I could have totally (and irresponsibly) purchased a million-dollar dream home, and, you know, when our mortgage payments came due, we could depend on the kind government to bail us out. Instead, we're still renting, because, you know, we didn't want to buy a million-dollar dream home that we, you know, couldn't afford. Apparently other people did buy their dream homes and over-extended themselves. It's okay, though! Apparently, those folks are fine -- government's helping them out! Awe to the some. According to some yutz on All Things Considered today, the worst part of it is, these people (if not aided by the government) might lose their -- are you ready for it? -- MIDDLE CLASS STATUS! Quelle Horreur!


Here's a thought: How 'bout some financial aid to those of us who weren't idiots?

Ahem, sorry about that. It's just that the whole thing makes me want to scream. A lot.