The Paperwork

Slow News Day

It's not as though there's a late-breaking story or anything here



I called Darin yesterday before I posted my entry to tell him what it was about (I'd have hated for anyone from work to go running up to him and say, "What's this I heard at the coffee machine that Diane doesn't love you and is running off with her acting teacher?") While talking to him I started crying, which I hadn't wanted to do. I feel like a little baby when I cry.

I told him the story and he said, "Oh honey, it's not like that at all, it's one of those acting things." When an actor says one thing, you always have to suspect the opposite. Or that there's something else going on. It didn't have anything to do with me.

He made me feel a lot better in a short period of time. He even cracked me up with: "Nobody's thinking about this. In a couple of years, nobody from the class is going to say, 'You sold that screeplay to Tristar and you've won all those Oscars but what I really remember about you is that day in the acting class.'"

Have I mentioned lately that I love him? Actually, isn't that what caused this little problem in the first place?


Today I woke up fairly late (10am) and decided to get down to brass tacks. The cover letter, the resume. A letter to my doctor.

I opened up a page in Word. And stared at it. For a while.

What goes into a cover letter, for crying out loud?

I typed my address. Then a salutation. The colon part stumped me for a while, but I got beyond it.

Say who you are.

I wrote a little bio.

Say why you're writing this person.

Who keeps talking in here? I live alone. Is the TV on?

Start typing. Give a reason why you're sending this letter.

Who are you? No, really?

I typed. I came up with the most generic sounding cover letter you've ever read.

Then it was time to start on the resume. I needed a film writer's resume, not a technical writer's resume. Unfortunately, I didn't have the number of any film writers handy, so I had to come up with it myself. I played with format. A lot. I listed my qualifications. I sorted. I rearranged.

Most amazingly, I got it down to one page.

Then I had to play with my fax software, which I haven't used for over a year. I knew I had used it before, but I couldn't get it to work. I remembered you had to use it from within a word processing application. I played with it some more. Unfortunately, I couldn't find anyone to test sending a fax on. So I had to trust it was going to work.

I faxed the resume to one place. I came home this evening to get a phone call that they hadn't received it. God. Damn. It. I have to resend it.


After my earlier adventures, I took myself to an afternoon movie: Bulletproof. It was okay. Worth a matinee. I mostly went to see it because I like Damon Wayans -- I have no clue as to what Adam Sandler's appeal could possibly be.

The theatre I saw it in was one of the "auditoriums" at the AMC multiplex. The auditorium is huge, a throwback to what movie theatres used to be like before...multiplexes! There were twenty people in there, amongst a thousand seats. I was amazed that any such place existed.

Gotta say this about LA: they have nice movie theatres.

On the way out I was accosted by a woman from CinemaScope, the people who tabulate audience reaction. I gave the movie a C. I was very excited to be a part of this wonderful American tradition.


After the movie I went shopping. I went to Circuit City but couldn't find the electrical supplies I needed. Well, I did -- but they were two to three times the cost of the exact same supplies at Fry's. My cheap little heart got the best of me and I drove to Fry's. Then I went to Bookstar, which didn't have the books I was looking for. Then Ralph's, to buy some more food that I can prepare for lunches for next week.

Now I'm home, a boring Friday night. Darin's off to watch a Babylon 5 marathon. Last night he was over at Rob and Laura's, playing Tekken 2 (see Ceej's Journal for more info about that little fest).


previous entry main page people glossary next entry

Last Updated: 6-Sep-96
Copyright ©1996 Diane Patterson