Out Of Touch

Results of the Thesis Committee meeting: I passed. Len fought hard to get me Distinction, but I didn't get it. I told him I appreciated hearing that he thought I should get it. Oh well.

There was a bloodbath at the meeting--some students were failed outright (which never happens) and most of the class has to do rewrites to get on the Real Script List--and discussion of the Six dominated proceedings.

The Dean of the Film School kept running in and out with updates and comments about what's going to happen to the Six. Len said that the lesson the students should learn as a result of what happened to the Six: if you're prepared to brave the disdain of your fellow students and pay a $500 fine, you can use the entire USC Script List and USC's mailing resources. Who wouldn't?

John Furia didn't like Len saying that. But Len is right. It's now open season. Some students are going to do this next year, only they're going to be smarter about it. And next time, they're going to get away with it.

So I've completely skated over what actually happened yesterday, both in the meeting and out, and I know why I'm doing it--I'm already worried about the image I'm promoting to the world.

Hey: image is everything.

I picked up some copies of scripts I'd had made at USC yesterday and swung by Linda's house to give her one. We went over some notes she'd gotten on her script and then she took out her Tarot cards to make predictions about the results of the Thesis Committee meeting. As she'd already predicted for herself (and knew in her heart to be true), she would get a pass with a rewrite; the cards said I'd get a pass without a rewrite but not Distinction.

Well...okay.

Then I went to Westwood and hung out with Tiffany until 6:30. We talked about life and everything going on and she helped me to see that one of the reasons I feel so crazed right now is that there's a major life change happening and maybe feeling crazed is an appropriate response.

I got in my car and called Darin to let him know that I was coming home. He told me that both Len and Mark Shepherd, a member of my thesis committee, had called. Which meant the results were in. Since I had to come over the hill at rush hour, I was going to be a while, and I couldn't wait: I called Linda from the car and she gave me the skinny: she did, in fact, get a pass with a rewrite (and her Thesis Committee members gave her some dopey advice--I did my best to make her feel better), and she told me how Len had fought to get Distinction for me and failed. And she told me who got Distinction.

Well...okay. I couldn't believe one of the names of the Distinction students, but I got over it.

When I got home I tried to call Len; his phone was busy. I ended up talking to Linda and then Jody for quite a while before my sister called--my mother had had another meltdown at my sister and my sister wanted to know what was going on. I calmed my sister down and told her our thoughts on the matter. Something's very wrong with my mother; no one knows what to do.

After that I finally got through to Len, who asked me what I'd heard, and I said, "Linda told me that I got a pass without a rewrite--"

"No," he said, "pass with a rewrite."

I now know what it is to have all the blood drain from your face. I could feel it rushing toward my stomach.

I told him I was completely flabbergasted. Completely. What the fuck do you mean, I need a rewrite? I didn't quite say that, and I think I hid the fact that I'd started to cry. My ego did not take this news very well. I must have a larger ego than I think I do.

He told me that he argued strenuously for Distinction for me, only to have another member of my Committee decide "to send [me] a message." I have no idea why this teacher wants to send me a message; I've never had him in class, we've always gotten along when we've spoken, there's no way that I've done anything that requires message-sending.

The other teacher on my committee, Mark Shepherd, was actually discussing the script, according to Len. He had 4 or 5 points he wanted to make about the script, of which Len thought 1 or 2 were worth discussing. So Len advised me to do the following: talk to Shepherd, get his notes, then call Len and we'd go over them. Len thinks what I have to do is a minor polish.

And Len is the only person who has to read the revised script in order to get me on the Script List.

As he put it, "You have your degree, your script passed, now all you have to is get on the Script List, and believe me, you're on the Script List."

Still...I felt as though I'd been socked in the stomach.

I'm not kidding when I say it was a bloodbath though--of the 32 or so students graduating:

• 9 got a pass without a rewrite, including the 3 or 4 who got Distinction;
• 2 or 3 failed outright, all of whom were members of the Six (and they failed solely on the basis of their script, which tells you how well they were doing);
• everybody else got a pass with a rewrite.

Len told me he had to fight to keep a student from failing. I know that student's script: while it's not my cup of tea, structurally it's completely sound and it does have a voice and atmosphere. If they were going to fail that...

I know: Len is in my corner, his is the only opinion I care about anyhow, and he wanted me to get Distinction. But my second reaction to hearing that I had to do a rewrite?

"He wants to send me a message? Boy, I hope he's still around when I send a message back."

I'm not an evolved human being.

One of my fellow students threatened to go to the trades--Daily Variety, The Hollywood Reporter--with the story of the Six, but then he decided that that would give the Six too much publicity, and focus Hollywood's attention on them.

No matter--Daily Variety has the story.

I'm sure it will only be a day or two before the LA Times--or hell, the New York Times--picks it up. Don't anybody quote my page, guys, okay?

So I finally did some research for my Thesis Script...

What was that scream you just heard? That was Darin, because he knows what my Thesis Script is about: the main character is an astrologer. (Actually, she's a conwoman--her angle is astrology.)

Anyhow, when I get depressed, I feel the need to get reinforcement. I just want someone to stroke me and tell me that everything's going to be okay. In psychotherapy, you have to do work and you have to look at yourself and it's painful and messy. Astrology? That's easy.

So here's what the astrologer said: I have one of the strongest and most harmonious charts he's ever seen. My career and fame outlooks are great--I have a chart built for great success and luck in the realms of career and work. Domestically, he recommended that I not undertake any house renovation projects until December 1999. (Well, okay then. Like that was likely to happen anyhow.)

One of the things he got totally wrong: he said my chart indicates that I have a strong tendency toward social work. Permit me to say, "Hahahahaha."

Perhaps, he said, this means that I will explores topics of social significance in my writing. Permit me to say, "Hahahahaha." If you want to send a message, call Western Union. (One of the members of Linda's thesis committee thought that Linda should have hit harder on the message that "Racism is wrong." I suggested to Linda that she take a stand and say that Racism is right.)

I'll keep a running total of his predictions and what's come to pass.

I did learn, however, that my interpretations of my own chart were pretty damn close to his. Maybe with a little extra effort I could become a professional astrologer. But I'll work a little harder on the screenwriting thing for a while.

I'm going to have a new feature, along with the daily exercise report:

Career notes

I've sent my Thesis Script to two agents so far.

My Rewrite Professor has another agent he wants me to send the Rewrite Script to, plus another production company.

On deck: send out lots of query letters.

Lies, Damn Lies, and Statistics

I'll go running this afternoon--this morning I have to head over to Price Costco and buy drinks for the little soiree we're having Saturday night. Whee!