During the whirlwind of FanTasia and Comic-Con (see previous blogs for details), I got a promising phone call from the production company of a pretty major showrunner. Just before taking off I’d sent out a few query letters for my spec pilot My Gay Black Husband. Apparently he was intrigued and wanted to meet to discuss it. Cool.
We set up the meeting for a couple weeks after Comic-Con, not realizing that during that time Wuhan would deliver the remaining FX for our feature and it was gonna be a mad race to the finish to insert them into the movie, deal with some scary frame rate issues, and prep final sound mix and picture for our upres and color correction. Ian and I worked around the clock for days on end, editing, rendering and all manner of other anti-social technical stuff that leaves one’s brain fried to a crisp and her social skills rusty at best. Quite frankly, sardonic romantic dramedies were the last thing on my mind.
So suddenly, it’s the night before my meeting and I haven’t even looked at the script in like a year. D’oh! Some friends and I did a table read and talked about how it might best be pitched. Then I spoke with some industry friends who know all about TV and pitches and development stuff which is foreign territory for me. I was given all sorts of advice about what to do and not to do and figured I’d best ought to try and follow it. Mistake #1.
In all honesty I’m sure it was very good advice. These people are seasoned professionals and totally know their stuff. However, I am simply not a “player.” I’m a writer and a filmmaker who lives in her own fantasy world half the time. So, what works for other people frequently just doesn’t work for me. Unfortunately, every once in a while I forget that. This was one of those times…Mistake #2.
The funny part is, I wasn’t nervous at all. I had so much going on in my life and no real expectations about this, so it was all cake as far as I was concerned. This was an opportunity to meet somebody whose work I’ve long admired, and one who had indicated interest in my idea, no less. If something came of it – sweet. If not, well, it would be a cool experience, right?
So, I get there unfashionably early as I’m apt to do (Mistake #3) and find myself in the waiting room for quite a spell. I’m offered water by a nice assistant, but I’ve brought my own bottle and politely decline (Mistake #4). Then I sit and sit some more and then I finish my water and sit some more.
Mind you, I’m not complaining. I felt privileged this important person was taking time out of his busy schedule to see me based solely on a query letter from some unknown chick. But I share this to establish my mind set at the time. Nerves out of nowhere began to set in. I finished my water. My mouth went dry and I was about to ask the assistant if his offer still stood when “Meeting Guy” arrived. It was time and I could barely speak I was so parched. Crap.
We walk into his office and he’s bombarded with e-mails, phone calls and people popping their heads in with urgent questions. He’s calm as can be, effortlessly juggling all the chaos with apologies to me for the interruptions. After about 8 minutes, things calm down for a moment and he asks the first real question:
“So, what all have you done? Had anything produced?”
Everybody’s advice swam through my head. My friends had told me, “Whatever you do don’t mention the horror films, don’t mention the directing, don’t talk about your feature scripts. You want to be taken seriously as a writer of TV dramedy, nothing else. Just focus on that.”
But what else have I really done? D’oh! My mind froze. (Mistake #5)
My eyes glazed over, drool spilled from my lips, I mumbled, “D’uh. I don’t know.” Okay, so it wasn’t quite that extreme, but it might as well have been.
He didn’t look too impressed. I would have disrespected him if he had. Several more interruptions and apologies later, he asked about my idea.
Again, the sage advice of too many friends cluttered my brain. Words like macro and micro danced ’round my head – what do those words even mean again? A torrent of random thoughts haunted me (in a Peter Lorre-esque voice, no less – what’s up with that?)
“Remember, Devi – it’s all about themes and outcomes and big pictures in broad strokes. Avoid specifics and details.” (mistake #6) Curse you, Peter Lorre!
Q: How many times have I read some pretentious synopsis of a film in a festival program where they describe it in vague terms like “a journey into man’s humanity as he explores the intricate juxtaposition of nature and nurture and dark and light through a series of reflective…yada yada?”
A: Clearly one too many. Something like that poured out of my mouth. I was beginning to wonder if my mind had been hijacked by a total jackass.
Meeting Guy’s expression said, “Really?“ His more diplomatic words simply asked, “But what’s it about? What could we expect to see in an average episode?”He then gave me a brilliantly simple pitch for Hogan’s Heroes and asked if I couldn’t maybe do the same for My Gay Black Husband. I managed to knock something a bit more comprehensible out.
We talked a bit more and I said some more stupid things I’ve fortunately since blocked out of my mortified brain. By meeting’s end the look on his face was priceless – if I’m not mistaken it was a mixture of befuddlement, patience and perhaps a touch of pity. He told me he was impressed by the title, the concept and my query letter and for that alone he agreed to read the script.
I sighed in relief. My writing had landed me the meeting. My writing was what convinced him to take a look at my script. I never proclaimed to be a competent speaker (unless I’m talking horror films in front of a classroom or an audience – funny that). Despite myself, I had achieved my goal. My script would be read. I’ve been told to make contact in 2 weeks if I’ve not heard back.
After the meeting Agustin—who’d kindly offered to play chauffeur (Driving Ms. Devi?)— and I went across the street for martinis at PF Chang’s (non- mistake #1). My fortune cookie told me: “You are destined for great success.” We laughed.
The moral of the story? It’s pretty much the theme of every screenplay I’ve ever written, “Follow your heart, do what’s right for you, don’t be a dick and the rest will work itself out.” Next meeting, for better or worse, I’m simply me again. They say you should always write what you know. Perhaps we should also remember to be what we know as well.
In the meantime, we’ve a feature to complete. Monday’s up-res day – yay! We’re almost there…