Stick With Your Day Job

I spent the day writing notes on a script written by a friend who used to be an executive. The company he worked for folded and he's spending his out-of-work time interviewing for jobs with fifty other applicants and writing a screenplay "that he's been thinking about since college."

He asked me to read his rough draft and give him suggestions.

I hope he finds a new job.

His script is terrible.

It's always shocking how bad scripts written by executives can be. Did all their knowledge about three act structure, and pacing and character development just fly out the window at the Starbucks they now call their home office?

But then look at all the horrible movies that get made. Maybe these studio executives turned writers never had any story sense to begin with?

I'm trying to be as constructive as I can with my criticism.

All seven pages of it.

I really want my friend to improve his script and sell it so he doesn't have to take a horrible executive job, just because there's no other work. I want to help him buy a little more time to find a really great job that he loves.

But there's no good ending for this favor.

Because what it boils down to is that I'm going to have to tell him that his script sucks. In the nicest, most positive way of course. And I have a feeling that my friend has no clue how truly bad he is at writing the screenplay he's been thinking about since college, which he called an "erotic cop thriller in the vein of SEA OF LOVE."

There are many problems with his script. For starters, anytime anyone pitches me anything using the words "erotic thriller" I immediate imagine what that person would look like naked. Don't ask me why my mind goes there. It just does, okay? Maybe I'm just a prude. Or maybe having to read screen description about a hard boiled female detective "cresting" in the back seat of her Crown Vic while having sex with the lead suspect really is embarrassing. Perhaps the biggest problem with pitching a script as an erotic thriller is that what he thinks is sexy is apparently very different from what I think is sexy.

Maybe my friend will be so mad about my notes that he won't ask me to read subsequent drafts.


*************************************

August 20, 2009

Mr. Foxypants just announced that he will be taking the entire month of October off from work...

wait for it....

to go through the garage and all his earthy possessions and downsize!

And I didn't even have to be a nagging shrew to get him to this decision.

Since we moved into Dinky Manor in April I have been furiously purging stuff. I'd already gotten rid of 75% of my belongings before the move, but it's apparent now that we are in the house, that I am going to need to get rid of another 15% of my stuff in order to make everything fit into my one tiny, badly laid out closet and armoire.

Mr. Foxypants had a really short escrow on his old house and pretty much did not have the luxurious lead time to purge before moving like I did. He had the movers pack Every. Single. Thing. in his house. The partially used soap bar in the bathroom. Packed. 2200 record albums. Packed. 100 board games. Packed. More candles than any man (or human for that matter) should own. Packed.

The garage was so full by the time my stuff came over that I couldn't fit a needle in there, never mind a filing cabinet. There are boxes of precious things, and by precious things I mean crap, still to be unpacked in every room and no place to store the stuff inside.

I have said nothing about the 4 boxes marked "Star Trek toys" stacked in the office. Nor the 8 boxes of tiki mugs taking up space in the laundry room. I just keep chucking my own stuff and talking about how awesome getting down to 10% will be.

So he's finally gotten to the breaking point on his own and realized that he cannot fit all of his belongings into this house, even if we build bookcases in every room (which was his originally nutbar plan).

Sometimes leading by example totally works!

I'm so proud of being the nice girlfriend these last couple of months. Niceness took longer than a tantrum to get my message across, but I didn't have to have cross words with my packratastic boyfriend.

However, I'm having a really hard time not doing my evil, scheming laugh in front of him. I'm so thrilled.

Mwah hahahahaha!