I Love You, Now Get Lost

Consider this post a public service announcement: I'm writing it to pass along a wonderful post from someone else's blog, Stephanie Palmer's Good in a Room. Palmer's "The Lie Most Frequently Told in Hollywood" is one of the most helpful and informative pieces about the industry that anyone hoping to work within the industry can read.

I was tempted to say, the most important piece of advice ever given about Hollywood, except that I agree with John Fugelsang that "hyperbole is worse than Hitler" (in our household, we're fond of saying that "of all the evils in the world, the absolute worst is hyperbole"). But anyway, read Palmer's piece, because: useful.

It reminds me of my favorite Hollywood experience of this kind, one that happened to me many moons ago. I had given an executive at a studio a copy of a spec script I'd written, one that she had specifically asked me to show her after hearing the gist of its story idea in a casual conversation. What followed was an increasingly exasperating and (in retrospect) amusing "Perils of Scriptine" in which my little pile of pages went through all manner of adventures, only to survive... unread.

The exec - I'll call her Jane - took the script home with her. Work got in the way, and she had to leave town. In one of our early conversations, she proudly informed me that she'd had her assistant print up another copy so she could take it with her (this occurred back in the mists of time, a dark, dark age when, Little One, there was no such thing as an iPad Mini).

My script accompanied Jane to Sundance, only to be left behind in a hotel room. It was recopied to join the pile upon her studio desk. Finally, encountering Jane in the hallowed corridors of the studio months after she had first asked me for a copy, I decided to let her off the hook. "I totally understand," I told her, "You're just way too busy."

"It's true," said the executive, with evident relief. "I guess I never will read your screenplay... but I will always want to."

Yes! The truth, my friends - it's the kind of sentence one could print up on a poster: I'll never read your script, but I'll always want to. This may be the most honest sentence a movie exec has ever said to me (or, as John Fugelsang might say, "The only honest thing ever uttered in the history of civilization").

Anyway, read Stephanie's post. The best thing ever written about Hollywood! Or something like that.

(graphic by Carla Rozman)

Comments

[E.C. Henry]

It's good to hear from the Mernitman again. I was genuinely starting to get worried.

Soo sorry you had to endure that. Down here in the pre-pro ranks we deal with that as well. A lot of writers at a site I frequent bemoan not getting their script read by their peers in a timely manner. But in most of their cases they are their own worst enemy; their premise SUCKS, and most people are just being nice not to remind them of that fact.

It's so hard to find kindered spirits that you make a connection with. Don't let the industry get you down, Billy. I've been blow-off too. But always know that there are a lot of us out here in the cyber world who are pulling for you, Mernitman, and will ALWAYS read your stuff.

[jamy]

This is great and true in other venues. Generally, silence means "no" because no one likes to give anyone a hard no--even people they don't like.

Hmmm...on a personal note, I think this means I'm going to be taking a new job soon. I guess that's good? (Meaning: my current employer isn't going to say yes to what I want, based on their very long silence after I made my request. Oh well.)

[mernitman]

Thanks, EC - We're all in this together.

Jamy: I hope that silence got broken... and if not, best of luck in your new endeavor, as they say...