What you're talking about is
An Afternoon In The Spotight. If you want it, doll, write it. Can you turn in an outline, a coherent
film treatment, and fart out six or seven pages of workable script in a week, ten days? Give me a reason to care about these people. You're going to have to make me
love a character I only saw for about five seconds in screen-time. Court me. Woo me. Pull my heartstrings. Tickle my fancy. [
bleep] my [
bleep]. Metaphorically, of course. I don't need another headache with the h.r. or the p.r. folks. If the studios dig it, they can have UMCiMvTMP out by Christmas... maybe as a DVD extra on
Boss Baby III, or a ten-episode order slated to drop on Netflix the same day as
It's Bruno season two and the
Tiger King season four claymation holiday special.
This is how I write. I have a cork-board full of index cards pinned up to it... handwritten bits and gags, random doodles, titles without stories, story prompts without titles,
x meets
y's, a whole lot of floating pieces that should not logically fit together in any way, but somehow I
make them fit.
I'm
always working. This is why I'm only 47 and I look 75.
Help me.