i'm almost certain that someone in the neighborhood is performing illegal genetic mutations on the local insect population.
this afternoon, i could feel something watching me. silently hovering over my shoulder. i snap my head around in wild paranoia and am face-to-face with a bumblebee the size of a sparrow. i froze and everything became a smeared blur of slow-motion. it's stinger - i was sure - was aimed directly at my throat; dangling like a used syringe from its abdomen.
quick flashes in the recesses of my brain vaguely remind me that i had foolishly spread some honey on my toast this morning. and he wanted it back.
i tossed a small pebble into some nearby bushes; as a distraction. it spun around, giving me the fraction of a second i needed to make a break for the house. i could clearly see it shaking its head menacingly as i pressed my face against the window, breathing heavily onto the protective layer of glass between us.
needless to say, i purchased a badminton racquet at the local walmart to use in our next encounter.
and now onto the main event! i have updated hollywood news:
the agent, angeline cook, contacted me four weeks ago and asked to see a copy of my script and I promptly shelled out $18 to have it shipped next-day. all of my screenwriting books instruct me to wait a month, then try and contact her. the key word here is 'try'. most agents won't even give you the time of day, let alone take a phone call from some unknown writer. my script was at the bottom of a very large stack on her desk; and i was painfully aware of that fact.
last week, day 30 arrived. i picked up the phone to call her and check in, but had a sudden impulse to instead visit her in person. its not as if i have a job or 'life'...what's to lose?
after a 50 minute adventure through the LA freeway maze, i located her building on Santa Monica Boulevard. When I say 'building', I mean a dark and ominous structure rising so high in the sky it blots the sun. The lobby was just as cold and uninviting; I was surrounded by high powered agents and producers, marble floors, and endless rows of elevators - all leading up, if I dared.
I made my way up to The Agency with my script clinging to my sweaty hand. I approached the receptionist and asked to speak with Angeline Cook. She inquired if I had an appointment and I sheepishly told her I didn't. She offered to take down my phone number and have Angeline Cook call me at her earliest convenience. I figured as much. My mouth opened to spew out my number, but suddenly my brain re-wired itself and a new response came to my lips.
"if you don't mind, i'd like to sit in the lobby and wait to speak with her."
"she's extremely busy and will be in meetings all day, but i'll be more than happy to take down your number and have her call you"
"if it's all the same to you, i don't mind waiting over there and if she has a free moment to spare that'd be great. i just need two minutes to ask her if she's read my script."
"i don't think you understand. her meeting could last an hour, it could last five hours. it'll be a lot easier if you just have her call you."
"i think i'll actually just stay here in the lobby. if she's not available in the next four hours, i'll give you my number. until then, i'm going to sit down and read a magazine."
The receptionist just shrugged and resumed her work.
I waited for nearly two hours, lazily thumbing through every magazine at my disposal. Then, a blonde woman approached me and introduced herself. Angeline Cook! She asks me briefly about my script and informs me she hasn't read it yet, but has heard great things. Her assistant, Carl, had said how impressed he was with my query letter. I handed her another copy of the script, now stained in palm sweat, and expected to be on my way.
she asked if I had a few spare minutes. i laughed in my head. i had nothing but time. she invited me into a large mahogany conference room where high-powered meetings took place on a regular basis. she closed the door. she asked me about any other scripts i had. i told her. she seemed impressed. we chatted briefly about television specs, treatments, and networking. she had me sign a release form allowing her to legally read my script without fear of litigation. she assured me that she would read the script personally and admired my tenacity. i told her i appreciated her help and taking the time to see me. i started to lift out of my chair, sensing our little chat was coming to a close. no. she proceeded to ask me if i was from the LA area.
i slumped back into my seat and explained that i had packed up everything i had into my Jetta and moved to LA three months ago to pursue screenwriting. she stared at me with a scrunched face.
"so what do you do for work?" she asks.
"nothing. i'm writing full time."
"so what do you do for money?"
"i have some savings. but when that runs out i'll probably have to get a restaurant job."
"do you know anyone in the industry?"
"nope. i've just been holed up in my house trying to crank out as many scripts as i can until i'm forced to get a job at some restaurant."
"i have to be honest with you. you move down here on a whim, camp out in my lobby for two hours. you've really got a set of balls on you."
(should i show them to her? no. stay professional.)
"thanks."
"listen. i really like you so i'm going to tell you that i happen to know the Head of our Literary Department is looking for a new assistant. If you're interested sent me your resume and I'll see if we can't make that happen."
i wondered for a brief moment if she could smell the odor emanating from my freshly soiled pants. i came in just to check whether or not she'd read my script and i left having been offered a job working for her boss.
it has begun.
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