Just realised that it’s been a while since I last blogged, and the last one was left on a bit of a cliffhanger, to say the least! I can now confirm that I am still alive! If you don’t know what I’m on about then you’re obviously not a regular reader of this blog. It’s only relating to the last entry so go on, read it, this will still be here when you get back. Unless I’ve taken it down for a re-edit.
If you haven’t read the last entry and are still reading this one, ignoring my previous advice, then this is now going to feel like when you were 17 and at the pub with your friends, having spent the previous day away with your parent. Now returned you are an outsider, for having no longer lived and breathed every second with them - you are literally old news. They talk over and around you, about all the crazy shit that has happened in the last 24 hours. You shrivel up like a vicar watching Baywatch, your confidence drained away, or rather re-directed in fresh, justified hatred for your mother and Brighton’s Sealife Centre. You vow to kill all crabs.
Yeah, it was weird, and yes, I did fear for my life, particularly when the first person I met in there happened to look like a buzzard, pecking away at a bowl of nuts, talking into his phone about amnesia. But it was well worth it and –
The reason I’ve neglected this blog is because I’ve been too busy re-writing my sitcom, for the bloke I was telling you about. Boy has he made it now! He’s only been with this company for nine months, but he’s already pulled in over 100 million pounds in funding for them. It’s also an incredible Cinderella story.
It all kicked off for him at the Cheltenham Festival, which I’m sure all of you scribes and Gartholomites know, but for those that don’t, is the biggest and best screenwriting festival in the world. He was desperate to go, but couldn’t afford a ticket – he was working as a button presser at a chicken factory (wonder what Millgram would make of that), which doesn’t bring in enough when you have five children. So he offered to clean the toilets for them, in exchange for a free ticket. Amazingly, they agreed.
He spent the two weeks prior to the festival googling the images of everyone confirmed as a speaker, or notable attendant of the festival, so that, whenever they went in for a piss, he was ready to pounce on them with a script idea or a tissue. And it worked!
He got talking to this chap, don’t know if he did anything else to him, and, next thing you know, he’s an executive producer! It really is that easy. If you have the gift of the gob.
Anyway, so he’s telling me all these stories, people he’s met, films he’s financing etc. I tell him about my sitcom. He loves it, but thinks it will work better in America. So, I’ve changed it to be about American Football, a sport I know even less about, unfortunately – it’s now called A Game of Four Quarters – hope they have that phrase in the U.S. He said he’ll pitch it for me to some top U.S. execs that he now knows. As an act of faith, and to prove I’m serious about wanting to make it as a writer, I have to stump up his flight money to L.A., which he’ll give back, once we get green lit.
My mum always said to me never look a gift horse in the mouth, and that’s what came flooding back to me as I stood looking at him, and his offer, and his incredible horse-like head. It was like one of those magical twist moments at the end of a David Fincher movie. I knew I had to go for it.
Ok, it’s going to eat up the last of my redundancy money but, fuck it, you only live once, and this could be the event that launches me into the big time! Next time you see me, I might be snuggling up to Phoebe from Friends!
Oh, and I did a film review for some cool guys – it’s here - http://goo.gl/0yiIg