Pats On The Back

Yesterday morning Carolann called me back (I'd called her and written her e-mail on Sunday) and we chatted a bit. She said she really liked my logline and we discussed it a bit -- she seemed to have gotten the general idea through the two sentences I sent her.

I called Len yesterday and left a message. He called me back later in the day and we talked a long time, both about my thesis script idea and my script Before the Devil Knows.

• The thesis idea: "The premise sounds very good."

• The script: "I liked it a lot."

Go ahead, make my day, Len.

He had some very good criticisms of both as well, stuff I should think about in the writing/rewriting. We probably spent 45 minutes talking, going over possible plot points, ways the story could go. Len does story really, really well -- that's why he makes the big bucks. At a few points I felt as though he was dragging my story off in his direction, and I corrected him, which was amazingly open for me.

I got off the phone and felt a lot better. I know I shouldn't look for external validation, but I do.

If nothing else, I've learned that I must write down the logline when telling anyone about the story. Actually, this is one of the tips suggested in How To Make It In Hollywood (there's a set series of books anyone who decides to be a screenwriter (or anything else in Hollywood) must buy, in case you're wondering): write down specifically who you see yourself as becoming and introduce yourself as that person that way to everyone you meet.

Last night Linda and I talked again. Mostly she wanted to hear how Len reacted to my taking him up on his offer to call at home.

"Fine," I said.

She also told me about some new awards that had been given out at USC, and we commiserated. I knew this was going to happen: we are not happy for our fellows. We are envious. I, however, had accepted this evil, snarling part of my personality some time ago.

My feelings as well are always about the screenplay, never the person: "I really like this person, but please, I can write better than that."

Linda has always maintained that she would be happy for other people in our class, that one person's success did not cast shadows on anyone else.

I'm not so sure she feels that way anymore.

Three out of the six people in our thesis class have gotten awards now -- I'm ready for my external boost now. I'm ready for the fickle finger of fate to land on me, dammit.

(I know, I know...the only thing that counts is that the check cashes.)

Recently I realized I had no idea when the last time I read fiction. Usually I've been going to bed and going to sleep, rather than reading a bit before dropping off, as was Darin's and my habit for a long time (read: in Northern California).

We bought The Rise of Endymion by Dan Simmons recently, so last night I decided to start reading it. Darin started watching a very funny movie -- The Sum Of Us, an Australian flick about a gay son with a fussy, interfering father -- but I decided I had to read. I went downstairs and lay in bed and read for two hours.

It's another good Dan Simmons book; the only problem is it's book 4 in the series, and I can't remember who everyone is, exactly.

Another book I've read recently is Wake Me When It's Funny, by Garry Marshall. It is not only memoir of his days in TV and movies -- how a guy who's allergic to everything succeeds in Hollywood -- but it's also a guide to Hollywood. Some tips for how to make it. It's also one of the funniest damn books I've read in a while -- I wasn't expecting it to be this funny.

Lies, Damn Lies, and Statistics

3.5 miles this morning. About a minute slower than Sunday's time. Urgh.