i got in my car this afternoon. i decided i'd enjoy a slice of gum, which was located under my dashboard. turns out when you leave gum in a car, located in southern california, all afternoon, it changes its molecular structure. it had shifted from a solid to a liquid state. ever so carefully, i peeled open the aluminum casing and slowly poured the peppermint concoction into my mouth. it was more like a mouthwash then a gum. frustrated, i poured the remaining wrigleys out the window. i now had a thin coating of warm, minty-fresh film covering every tooth in my mouth. i tried to swallow.
my second week in town i obtained a list of 100 agencies from the Writer's Guild of America. in fact, i drove all the way down to their building off Sunset Blvd. Now, Sunset Blvd. is a series of endless stoplights every ten feet, packed with non-stop traffic. The entire street itself is a glamorous, working, open showroom for Bentley, BMW, and Lamborghini. I've never seen so many $100,000 cars in my entire life. If I tallied up the combined cost of every car next to me at each red light, it would be roughly equivalent to the GNP of a small eastern european nation.
the writer's guild building itself is ominous and sinister. it takes up the entire block and i felt microscopic as i crept up to the entrance and opened the enormous fifteen foot glass doors. there are five foot portraits lining every wall of the front lobby. each containing the face of great screenwriters over the years. i knew each and every one. some were my idols, some were...George Lucas.
the lobby was open and spacious, yet only had one man sitting at a desk. however, this was no ordinary desk. the man looked like he was running a command center at NASA. the desk was circular and had roughly the same area as my livingroom. he had no less than four computers surrounding him and was sliding back and forth between them in his swivel chair. every phone line on his grid was lit up; he was effortlessly gliding back and forth.
"Writer's Guild? Please hold"
"Writer's Guild? Let me put you through"
"Writer's Guild? Let me transfer you"
i slowly tiptoed my way towards the ring of fire. i didn't want to bother him, i glanced around to see if i could ask for help from somebody else. anybody. i wimpered, "somebody help me". it just echoed endlessly through the cavernous halls. i was now in front of his desk and i stood there, like a dope. he paused for a moment, stared at me, then continued his zig-zagging around inside the pit. several moments go by. i don't move a muscle. he realizes i'm still there; like a lion knows the gazelle is still standing nearby. without making eye contact, says "yes?". i bowed slightly at the hip, out of reverence, and requested their list of agencies. he makes a vague motion towards the tiny table across the room and resumed his business. i quickly locate a pamphlet and rush to the glass doors to escape this place. as the doors close behind me i hear a giant 'whoosh', as all the air (and my soul?) is sucked from my body.
that night i bought bulk amounts of envelopes, thirteen books of stamps, and a reem of printer paper. i had to handwrite each address for 100 different agencies, in addition to the 100 hand-written Self Addressed Stamped Envelopes I had to include inside. let's just say the 3M company shareholders are holding a celebration in my honor this weekend.
i wrote a query (hee hee) letter to every agency on the list. for those of you who don't know, this is the standard form letter you must send to agencies in hopes that they'll take you on as a client. it roughly says:
-i'm seeking representation
-here's what my screenplay is about
-i will pledge to you my firstborn child if you take the time to read my script
so, if they like what they read in the query letter they will request your actual script. then if that passes their test, then they take me on as a client. that's the process. I dumped them all in the mailbox on the corner and then the waiting game began.
it took about a week, but finally the rejection letters started flowing in; which i fully expected. most agents receive dozens of query letters a week, and very rarely accept new undiscovered clients. and by 'rarely', i mean 'never'.
what did surprise me though, was their lack of professionalism. i was expecting a standard rejection letter politely telling me to stop wasting their time with my worthless storylines. instead, they simply take the original letter i sent to them, handwrite "not interested" across the top and send it back in my SASE. they don't even want to waste precious paper on me! that's how low on the totem pole i am.
then...yesterday. i recieve a voicemail from an agent's assistant. clark. clark informed me that his boss liked my query letter and requested a copy of the script. after several minutes of jumping up and down in jubilation, i rushed to the post office and sent it off; next day delivery. the rush delivery cost me $18, instead of the $2 sluggish delivery. maybe i can have clark reimburse me.
and now i'm just waiting. waiting for the agent to read it and hopefully like it enough to take me on as a client. who knows, if all goes well there may be a Bentley in my future.
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