Evil Gal Productions

Mere Smith
is a recovering Southerner,
longtime TV writer,
author and blogger.
August 12th, 2011 by Mere Smith

BOOM Goes The Megabyte!

If ya’ll will just excuse me one second, truly, I apologize, but….


(*hunched over*) Oh sweet swinging ballfuckers!  Oh Jesus ham sandwich on the cross!  (*wipes tears out of eyes*)

Okay, I’m—  No, wait—  Oh—  No, okay.   I think I’m good now.  I think I’m done.  It’s just not often you laugh so hard that your spleen shoots out your belly button…

So in news from La-La Land:  It seems getting someone to read your spec script just got a little more difficult — as the poor sap who left his spec script at a talent agency found out this week.  Y’see, the talent agency actually called the police on the spec, which was contained in a black briefcase (fucking racial profiling — would they have called the police on a white briefcase?), and then the police came and blew the thing up.

Not metaphorically.

They literally… blew… the… thing… up.

As in BOOM goes the megabyte!

hee hee hee heee!  Oh, Lord amighty, help me.  hee heee heeeee!

Guess all parties involved thought the briefcase might be a bomb.  Which is where the irony comes in, since nearly all spec scripts are bombs.  (Add every single variation on pun here.)   They just happened to annihilate this one before reading it — I’m sure they were totes heartbroken — ’cause it was inside an apparently threatening-looking briefcase… containing this Writer’s laptop, too.

Oh, didn’t I mention?  He left his spec AND his laptop at the agency!  What in the seven bloody hells was this Writer thinking?  Was he just hoping that maybe he and the D-girl or -boy it got shoveled onto shared the same taste in porn?  That maybe it’d get him an “in”?

Oh no– laughter welling up.  Hold on — just — okay, can’t pee in my chair anymore.  I’m empty.

(The chair’s not.)

I’d just like to ask: who the crap leaves a spec script with a bunch of strangers along with the laptop he wrote it on, including (I’m assuming) all the previous drafts?  I wouldn’t show my MOTHER my first drafts of scripts, and she HAS to love me: it’s, like, some sort of law.  Yet I have no doubt if she read my first drafts… I don’t know, I’ve been disowned a bunch of times for less.

But seriously.  Handing over your laptop to a bunch of people who A) don’t know you from a hole in the ground, B) would probably get the hole in the ground work before they found some for you, and C) would most likely rather bury your script IN that hole before they would voluntarily read it?  Aside from the usual spec suckitude, you especially have to wonder about the quality of that particular script, if the Writer was fucktarded enough to just leave it there, with his laptop, to be dutifully blown up by John Q. Law.

Anyhow, fucktarded, desperate, or crazy are about the only options I can come up with as to his reasons — or I can also see all three combined being possible.  That’s the thing about being a struggling screenwriter: you don’t scrabble and scrape to break into this godforsaken business because you’re oh-so-well-adjusted.

Something in your past has had to go horribly, horribly awry to push you into this profession — something that made you say, “The only way I can deal with this awful trauma is to dissociate completely, pretend it’s all fiction, and then get paid a million dollars for it, which will ultimately never fill the gaping hole in the center of my chest that once held a soul.”

“Delusional” doesn’t half cover it.

‘Cause does choosing that career path sound healthy to you?  Of course not.  Even those of us fortunate enough to have already earned a couple shekels at it — and nowhere near a million dollars — aren’t thinking, “Gee, I’m so lucky I was brought up undamaged and with such rock-solid self-esteem!”

Most of us are thinking, “Oh my shit, how do I scam another job before someone cottons on to the fact that I’m a complete fucking loser/fraud who doesn’t deserve to be loved or even recognized as a human being?”  As a general rule, we are NOT a well people, my fellow brethren and sisteren Writers.

Not well at all.

Though I must admit, this is the first time I’ve heard of one of us being stupid, reckless or screwed-up enough to send his script on jihad.

Because that’s all we have — our words, our scripts…

Just wait ’til the actors get into it.  I can’t wait to see who boxes themselves up and mails themselves to that talent agency next…

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