this week i had a generous portion of humble pie forcibly crammed into my mouth and i was made to swallow. the reason behind being violated by this particular pastry? i recently joined a screenwriters group.
upon the completion of my last script (over a month ago), i realized that watching online episodes of The Office along with the occasional netflix rental hasn't been the most productive (or sociable) use of my free time. i needed to get out of the house and meet actual people who i don't have to feign happiness with in the hopes of getting a decent tip.
which brings us to tuesday's writers group. this was the third time we had met. every week we would read someone's script, critique it, and discuss it at the following meeting. this week it was my script that was to be placed in the petri-dish and slid under the microscope.
i was excited! my family loved it! my friends said it was amazing! i would soon be on the fast track to Hollywood and schmoozing with (God forbid) George Lucas! in terms of its brilliance, i was soon convinced that it fell somewhere between Citizen Kane and The Godfather.
i entered our regular coffee shop in Marina Del Ray with a slight swagger; just enough to let them know the big dog had arrived. i saw them huddled in the corner and i envisioned them whispering amongst themselves about their favorite lines of dialogue i had written and wondering where i come up with such hilarious concepts.
i approached and the entire group immediately fell silent. i would have taken the silence as an act of awe, if it weren't for the distinct odor of death lingering over the group. i pulled up a chair.
everyone just kind of awkwardly avoided eye contact until someone finally muttered, "so...who wants to begin?". as if a starter pistol had been fired, everyone became instantly animated and began speaking at once; anxious to blurt out their very strong opinions regarding my supposed masterpiece.
it takes a particularly thick epidermal layer to withstand the barrage of comments i had to endure for over an hour. to put it lightly - they tore it to shreds and spit on the remains. rather than placing it on a pedestal with The Godfather it was crumpled up next to Snakes on a Plane and Dude, Where's My Car?
i was devastated. couldn't they see the comedic genius printed on the pages before them?! didn't they realize the box office potential of my work?! who were they to judge me?!
it wasn't until i got home at the end of the night and read over their notes that i realized they were 100% correct. character arcs? missing. questionable scenes? lots of them. unnecessary dialogue? plenty.
i saw it all through their eyes for the first time...and i was thoroughly embarrassed. they knew what they were talking about and i was promptly put in my place. now that my massively inflated ego had been punctured, i grudgingly sat down in front of my computer and began re-working the next great american comedy; coming soon, to a theater near you.
1 comment:
Very similar experience to the one I had when a Russian Stanislavsky master watched me "act." Humble is like Marlboro Reds -- it's pretty unpleasant at first, but you learn to love it after a few weeks. After a while, it's all you'll really want in life.
Now, of course, I have not read the script...but from what I can tell having not read it, it's the best thing I've ever not laid eyes on. Good that you've got a group who is willing to take the time to piss all over you -- better that than someone who doesn't even consider you piss-worthy.
I guess I have to start checking this more often. It was so much easier when I didn't have to leave MySpace...but you've forced my hand. You'll pay for this. Dearly.
Post a Comment