What fresh hell is this?

Freshly rescued from the depressing soul-suck that is London England, I felt optimism seeping back into my bones. Or was that just the Vitamin D?

Either way, it motivated me to seize the nebulous goal that had been hibernating in the wide muddy flats of my brain for yonks -- and actually go for it. That's right. Since I was finally in LA, I was going to become a screenwriter.

My naive and youthful optimism (which I had misplaced some time back in 1999) sprang forth and I was on the move. Armed with websites and "how to" books, I would polish my craft, create a masterpiece, and by golly, see it go into production and shine on the big screen.

That was a few months ago now. Waking to reality, I've realized that this is going to be one adamantine and infinite endurance test, with very little reward awaiting me should I succeed. For some reason I can't quite nail down, now I want to do it even more.

Here's my offer to you. Come along on my journey. Keep me company. Give me encouragement. (Lord knows I'll need it.) Slap me when I'm being a dolt. And kick me when I'm down if that's your thing.

In return, I'll entertain, inform, thrill, and delight you with what promises to be a truly twisted tale that might play out something like this:

An astonishingly clever Canadian woman escapes from England seeking sunshine, but instead finds herself wallowing into the dark underbelly of Hollywood, where she discovers the awful truth about Tinseltown...