If I knew five-plus years ago how hard it would be to be a professional screenwriter, I might have tried a little harder to understand the Star Trek<\/i>-like technobabble that was part of the editing classes at film school. At the very least I would have been employed<\/i> much more contiguously in these post-film school years.<\/p>\n
I doubt that I’d be as happy and content as I am now, though. When I look back, I can exclaim – just like those Hallmark cards or chain-email-angels insist – I’ve come a long way, baby!<\/i><\/p>\n
My trick to surviving, I think, is my ability to be wilfully short-sighted. Take the short film<\/a>, for example. I thought I had a pretty straight-forward project: five talking heads, no gun-fights, no car-chases, a half-dozen locations, and a nine to ten-minute running time. The devil is in the details.<\/p>\n I obviously like to kvetch.<\/p>\n In the end, in the heat of of any stressful moment, I’m always struck by two thoughts:<\/p>\n If I knew five-plus years ago how hard it would be to be a professional screenwriter, I might have tried a little harder to understand the Star Trek-like technobabble that was part of the editing classes at film school. At the very least I would have been employed much more contiguously in these post-film school … <\/p>\n\n
\n
\n
\n(into phone)
\nReally? Worst film you ever saw.
\nWell, my next one will be better.
\nHello. Hello.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<\/li>\n
\nSometimes the fall kills you.
\nAnd sometimes, when you fall, you fly.<\/div>\n<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"