A friend of mine upset me this weekend and I wrote a whole thing about it but I don't want to be all angry and ranty about it and people started making mistaken assumptions about who I was talking about so I deleted that and wrote this instead. And in the process I deleted the comments people left by accident so, um, sorry about that. Feel free to comment again.
Anyway...
I am emo today.
I got my first rejection letter from the pile of queries I sent out a few weeks ago. It's to be expected - I certainly didn't think the world would flip over my zombie logline and immediately sign me to a six-picture deal - but it's still sort of got me thinking this is the first in a long line of letters about why Hollywood doesn't want what I have to offer. And then the short film is never going to be finished and my feelings got hurt and my love life is a mess of confusion and it's really hot because the sun is glaring at me through the balcony door and I'm tired.
I'm turning 30 in two weeks. I was supposed to be a rock star by now. Then I was supposed to be married with kids, living happily ever after writing novels about spunky French queens (the royal kind, not the gay kind). Then I was supposed to be a screenwriter. Instead I am a girl who lives alone in her one bedroom apartment with her cat, wishing someone would pay her to write some fistfights so she could quite her day job. I am not a rock star at all, despite the fact that I have a tank top that says so.
And I finally broke down and bought a book of stamps for the first time since the price went up. The price is going up again on Monday, god dammit.
And people's comments are still deleting for no reason. I swear I have approved all comments so far and none of them are appearing, so please post them again. Grumble.
So I'm having a bad day. This too shall pass, I suppose. Sorry about the whining but I can't be optimistic all the time.
At least my hair looks good.
If you posted a comment I swear I approved it. Moderation is all wonky today so if you feel like it, post again. I liked everybody's comments and wanted to respond to them but Blogger deleted them.
ReplyDeleteAt least you'll only be thirty.
ReplyDeleteHeh.
Speaking of editing...finally worked out some of my more technical shortcomings. Soon.
"I'm turning 30 in two weeks. I was supposed to be a rock star by now."
ReplyDeleteHey, I'm old enough to be your parent and you have inspired me to continue to strive towards writing that award winning (big bucks paying) screenplay. I will do it. No **boubt adout** it:)
"I am not a rock star at all, despite the fact that I have a tank top that says so."
You need to get the cap to match that says so. That'll do it.
As the old poster says, "Hang in there!"
ReplyDeleteThanks guys. Anonymous, that really does make me feel good. And I don't have a hat. I should get one with rhinestones.
ReplyDeleteI'm a dude, six years older than you, and I live with my mom. Yes, I am in the basement right now as I type this. I have a job and work hard, and mom has health problems(and bills)that necessitate the living arrangement for now, but the facts are still the facts. I saw this coming a few years ago... of course a few years ago, I thought I'd be a well-to-do produced screenwriter by now. All you can do is keep writing, look at(cringe) Sly Stallone and what he went through with Rocky.
ReplyDeleteYou can't appreciate the highs without having some lows. At least that's what I keep telling myself. I wanted to frame all my rejection letters and put them on my wall -- but I was told this was morbid. So I put them in a folder and take them out whenever I feel sluggish and need to be pissed off to encourage the work.
ReplyDeleteAs an angry poet in undergrad used to tell me, "Fuck 'em if they can't take a joke." It's applicable in all matters, Emily. ALL MATTERS.
Birthdays. God. I have one in August. If you figure out how best to handle them, let me know.