A former MySpace friend, Bryan Foxx, once echoed the sentiments of my best friend John that people should pay to read my writing since, ostensibly, I write so well....well, it's not as though I haven't thought of that myself. Unbeknownest to family and friends, I have knocked on doors of publishing firms and motion picture studios, pressed palms, and done other traditional and non-traditional things to advertise my work, but, as of this post, I'm still ossifying at Bank of America. Maybe, I just don't know how to sell myself.
Or, maybe there is something inherently wrong with the samples of my work I have submitted. I've fancied myself a Hollywood screenwriter, and during a recent sojourn to California I submitted samples of my scripts to over 100 producers. I don't want to make a living penning typical Hollywood fare- no love stories involving someone from the wrong side of the tracks, no comic books, cartoon characters, or television shows brought to life, no biodramas starring someone who does not even look anything like the famous person depicted, no orgies of special effects or gratuitous car chases, nor movies concerning organized crime and, despite my huge popularity with the French, no stories of effeminate young boys with a sheepdog haircut riding a bike with a basket on it through the fields of the countryside for no apparent reason, befriending an ethnic, jolly street grocer named Peppino. Instead, my scripts have something interesting and different to say and, yet, I've not gotten one phone call from anyone with a California area code.
Here are the plots of the scripts I've written. They seem like winners to me. Don't you agree?
PLOT 1: A successful 40 year-old account executive named Bill alienates his wife, family, and friends after undergoing a mid-life crisis when he decides to quit his prestigious, high-paying job to fulfill a lifelong dream of a career giving circumcisions to adult men who have converted to the Jewish faith.
PLOT 2: In his clever little five-year old mind, Little Timmy conjures a great idea on how to get rich by the time he grows up. Every Christmas morning, Little Timmy will take the glasses that Santa Claus drank his milk from, store them in a secret compartment in his closet, and sell them as a set as he gets older. The movie deals with the themes of disappointment, disillusionment, and despair as Timmy grows up and finds that the glasses are worthless and, maybe just maybe, he should have tried harder in school. The end to this movie is not pretty.
PLOT 3: Another entrepenurial plot as George runs his successful architectural company into the ground due to his obsession with a product he believes will have an even greater revolutionary impact on the health food industry than soy, Sperm Bars. George finds there are no takers and goes insane, accusing executives of major companies of conspiring to steal his idea. The end to this movie takes place on top of a school tower and is not pretty.
PLOT 4: More conspiracy themes abound when Shelby, a paranoid female protagonist with a drinking problem, notices that a lot of goods and services have prices with .99 at the end. Hotel rooms are priced at $73.99 and up, gas prices are $1.73 & 99/100 cents per gallon, a box of Wheaties cereal costs $2.99, that dress over there costs $59.99, and the flat-screen TV costs $1,099. Obviously, the real prices are $74, $1.74, $3.00, $60, and $1,100. Who decided that prices should end with 99 cents? Shelby decides there is a conspiracy and is fascinated to find out who is behind it. Predictably, the end of this story involves playing a violin for patrons at a nightclub in New Mexico.
PLOT 5: Inspired by the Atticus Finch character in To Kill a Mockingbird, Tony takes night classes at Columbia Law School to earn his law degree. What is his cause celebre? He plans to file a lawsuit against the City of New York, claiming that the plethora of New York Yankees posters, signs, and banners in the city is discriminatory to all Red Sox fans, demanding $32 million in damages and an equal amount of Red Sox paraphenalia to be publicly displayed. Predictably, the movie ends with a touching scene of ice fishing in Iceland.
PLOT 6: A mechanic named Rob wakes up from a drunken stupor in an inner-city hip-hop club wearing a shirt with a Confederate flag emblazoned on the front with the words "Why can't I use the N word...." underneath it and the words "....if you call me Cracker?" on the back and has no idea how he got there or why he has this stupid shirt on. Like the Henry Fonda classic Twelve Angry Men, the entire movie takes place in one room. However, the end of the movie is not as life-affirming.
(Please e-mail me with any thoughts or suggestions on what I need to do to get my big break!)
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I like plots 2 and 4,w hich I should have paid to read.
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