"Hello Hollywood? I know you're dying to read my scripts. So I'll swing by for lunch and... Hello? Are you still there? I can hear you breathing. Hello? Hello?"
I'm a writer. I write scripts. I have studied and worked endlessly on the craft. Now, I'm hearing I need to produce my own scripts? I have too much respect for filmmakers to pretend I'm a filmmaker, too.
I can ride a horse. Don't ask me to give birth to one. "Neigh!"
Listen...
Do you hear that?
Dear Everything...
Stop beeping.
Thank you!
Beep.
Hey. I said thank you. Must I say please?
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Now that our engagement on twitter has lessened thanks to mean-spirited algorithms, I picture us stumbling around aimlessly and muttering to ourselves. It's our daily workout to spew random thoughts no one will ever read, hear or reply to. Are we an odd lot? Or the new normal?
@ATRightMovies Fargo is a beautiful example of how filmmakers can take a story ripped from the headlines and turn it into a masterpiece of storytelling -- then have Scorsese and Ebert discuss it in meaningful terms, not just fluff.