I link to things on Twitter and Facebook, but never come here to post them, so if you’re looking for places to hear me talk about work/process/being awkward in public, here you go. This is also a list of some fantastic podcasts/people.
GILMORE GUYS: These guys are so funny. They invited me to gab about episode 502, “A Messenger, Nothing More.” TWoP fans will enjoy this trip down memory lane. Newer readers might be shocked to see just how easily I can slip back into a snarky asshole.
SHE DOES | Conversations with Creative Minds: Elaine and Sarah are smart, funny and sweet. They also interview some of the most fascinating women in media. I was flattered to be invited to share my own story. My episode: Finding Your Own Fun.
CHICKS WHO SCRIPT: Three powerhouse ladies in film with a whole lot to say. My episode: Pam Ribon and the Big Personality
The following aren’t recent, but you might still enjoy them:
THIS AMERICAN WIFE: Eric Martin is so calm and cool that I end up dorking out like you wouldn’t believe. And yet, he had me on his show TWICE. Episode 73: Only the Young and Episode 56: Side Gigs. Eric folded this podcast shortly after our last interview. He said it wasn’t not not entirely my fault.
BOOK CIRCLE ONLINE: This was a fun one. We discuss Notes to Boys, writing online and Anne Heche.
THE SEND-UP: Robyn and I talk about writing comedy for TV as a lady person, Sassy Magazine, asking for Tom Selleck and getting Harry Hamlin, and being in a twenty person improv troupe. The episode is here.
It’s that time of year when networks are ordering pilots. This means tv writers are sitting around anxiously waiting to find out which scripts they’ll be viciously hate-reading. Continue reading
It’s very tempting to answer this question with one word. Continue reading
I’m off to the Austin Film Festival next week, where the number one question asked is, “How do I break into the industry?” This week’s Procrastination is for you. Continue reading
I’m sitting on the couch working on a script that’s due, waiting on the phone to ring with some work-related answers, including the latest on how the film rights are going for You Take It From Here. I’m flattered and relieved that there’s interest. Things are moving forward (yet creeping along).
One of the questions I’m inevitably asked about a project, and one that I always dread, is about casting. I’m always asked, “Who do you see playing this role? What’s your dream cast?”
I don’t mind the writing, the outline, the pitching, the waiting. But since it’s always such a long shot that anything would ever get the greenlight, I long ago stopped trying to mentally cast things in my head. Why get myself even more hopeful for something that probably won’t/can’t happen? I’m always so grateful and happy to hear when an actor or actress is interested in a property or attaching to a project, and I think it’s an effortless happy partially because there’s no name or face to knock off my dream list for that person to stand there. Continue reading
INT. PAMIE’S CAR — LAST NIGHT Continue reading
This week has been an ass-kicker. A “no” on a job I wanted (that happened at the exact same time we got rear-ended on the highway), another no, another no, Oprah ending, a plumbing clog that has caused septic nightmares coming from inside the house. And since methane gas inside the house isn’t enough, a family of skunks have taken up residence in the backyard. Judging from the smell, they are easily frightened multiple times a day. I lost a notebook that had story notes I needed, but more importantly contained apparently the only copy I had of my landlord’s address and the rent is due… No, don’t bother looking for the notebook, I think I lost it 30,000 miles in the air. (Sudden screaming baby made me accidentally overturn my purse in 18C.)
Since my father’s no longer around to buy multiple lottery tickets every week, I need you to keep hope alive by blindly entering a contest with the brazen assumption that you’re going to win because you’re a winner and that’s what winners do. That’s what my dad would’ve done and I need someone to be a winner. Some good news, people. Let’s find it. Continue reading
Let me see if I can paint the past week for you really quickly.
OCTOBER 29. Monday. We get to work knowing it’ll probably be our last week of work. We are frantically writing what will be our final script. Pencils down is coming soon. We are hoping against hope that a strike will be avoided. Everybody’s tense. Our show airs tonight, the third episode, and if it does as well as it has been going, we’re looking like we’ll get a full-season order. Everything you dream of as a working writer might just happen… just in time to walk out of the offices.
I debate for hours, literally hours, about finally going to a meeting to sign up as our official strike captain. I ask other people on staff if they’ll do it, or if they’re interested. Most people say to me that since I am sympathetic to every person’s situation in the room, and because I’m the most passionate about both striking and working, they’d rather I was the one in charge. Besides, I’m the one who’s had all of the information. And I’ve done this before. For years now. I walked the line with Top Model (I would love to post a link but my archives are terribly broken. Can someone help me fix Moveable Type? AB’s very busy with her strike duties!). I helped with the early organization for Comedy Central, which led to several shows going Guild.
[I just heard a group of high schoolers marching outside on their way home from school, shouting, “Strike! Strike! Right, left, right! Strike! Strike! Right, left, right!” Thanks for the solidarity, my friends.] Continue reading
At the strike last Friday, I was babbling to Eric about how I sometimes put the post of the sign at the top of my hip. “It’s my strike hip,” I explained. “Why doesn’t anyone else use their strike hip?”
Eric pulled out his camera. “Okay. Give me your best Top Model pose,” he said.
“No,” he said, sounding disappointed, checking the viewfinder. “You really look bored in this one. This time, try to be just a little more aware of the fact that you’re trying to look bored. That’s much more model-y.”
I posed again. Continue reading
About six months ago I was in the parking garage of Hollywood and Highland with stee as we passed a woman who appeared to be pleading to a couple who were listening with empathy. A few minutes later, that same woman approached us. She was cautious, hanging back for a second, like she wanted to know if we were normal.
“Excuse me,” she said, head shaking and hands trembling. She was in a brown business suit, brown hat, and carried a purse and a plastic bag that seemed to hold a bottle of water. “I’m a nice, old black lady. I’m not crazy. But do either of you have Triple A Plus?” Continue reading