Archive for September, 2012

You don’t look a day over fifty.

Friday, September 14th, 2012

You have a sit down with a big time agent from William Morris/Endeavor or WME.  You give your pitch.  The agent is rapt, transported.  After all, you’ve honed your pitched down to fifteen seconds so he doesn’t have time to look mildly irritated that anyone who isn’t someone is in his office which is the inevitable look you get if you overstay your welcome.

Inside, you’re chuckling.  You can see the awards ceremonies, the acceptance into Wolfgang Puck catered affairs, the fabulous offers jamming your inbox.  The agent leans his thirty-two years back into his chair.  He smiles excitedly and asks pertinent questions–a good sign. You answer them in funny, pithy soundbites.  Your performance is perfect.  You know it, he knows it.

He escorts you out of his office with promises of “getting this to the right people.”  You leave the outer office and remember you left your phone on his desk.  The agent’s voice and his aide’s answering laugh stop you before you push open the door to his inner office.

“All you had to do is look at the gray in his hair to know that he couldn’t have anything worthwhile.”  Says the agent. “When he calls, give him the usual.”  It gives you pause.  Great pause.  You know what the usual is and it isn’t a good thing in agent-writer speak.

“Is your phone really that important?”  you wonder.  While the internal debate rages, you can hear the agent end the conversation with the aide and you retreat to the door to the outer office.  It’s about then you remember that it’s an expensive phone and you’re broke.  You turn back as if you’re just coming in as the aide leaves the agent’s office.  The aide is holding your phone.

He extends his hand offering you the phone.  You take it, smile warmly.  “Where would I be in this town without a phone?”  you ask with a smile in your voice.

“We’ll get back to you,” smiles the aide.

On the drive home, you pound your steering wheel as if it’s the agent’s face.  “Maybe the NRA is right,” you think.  “Maybe we should all be packing.  After all, what’s one less agent in this town.”   It sounds like an idea for a new screenplay!