I drink a glass of water, and I'm thinking about my pilot. I buy the groceries, thinking about which show to spec next. Stuck in traffic, I mull over the best ways to network. When I sweep the floors, I try to work out how to improve my Bones spec. While I'm watching TV, I'm thinking about story, character, and structure. I'm out running, thinking about the strike. At night, I dream that I meet Aaron Sorkin in an elevator, and he needs a new staff writer.
Ladies and gentlemen, I am obsessed.
The last time I was all-consumed in this manner was during my other life as bassist for The Lollies. The scary thing is, we never really got anywhere. Our dream never came true.
I don't want to spend the next decade being obsessed by writing, only to never get anywhere.
Believing in yourself is really hard. Sometimes.
This video is worthy of The Daily Show.
I went to the strike on Friday. I think 4,000 people is kind of a conservative estimate. For every writer hoisting their sign high in the air, there was a SAG member, a wannabe, or a fan to match them. If you weren't in the front third of the crowd, you didn't hear a word Jesse Jackson said. We got up there for Seth McFarland, though. He was awesome and inspiring. And also funny. Very funny.
I met Jane E briefly. In the thirty seconds I talked to her, she had four other people who wanted a piece of her. I took pity and made our encounter brief. Said hi to Jeff Garlin - I really liked his I Want Someone to Eat Cheese With. Saw Judd Apatow, who my husband kind of knows through working on Walk Hard, but Judd was swamped as well, so the husband didn't interrupt. (Note to self: Must improve husband's networking skills.)
I'll be striking again this Friday, when I expect to meet lots of other TV fans walking in support of the writers. But I won't be getting there at six am. I'll reserve that pleasure for when I actually become a WGAer myself.
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