On Sex in the City, the character of Carrie seemed to have at least one aspect of her life all wrapped up---her career. While she trudged thru horrible relationships and dating nightmares, she appeared to be quite comfortable with her job as a New York City weekly sex columnist.
Of course, at one point she was short on money and took on some freelance work with Vogue. Later on, an offer to put her columns into book form came out of the blue. And then, there was that failed attempt at turning those columns into a screenplay.
All of these things just seemed to fall into her lap. My point? Well, frankly, Carrie didn’t seem very ambitious for a NYC writer.
Of course, Sex in the City is fiction. It’s called SEX in the City, not Submissions in the City. No one is interested in watching an episode where she spends an hour in line at the Post Office trying to mail the sample chapters of her latest novel in an effort to interest a publisher---AND, after a whole hour in line not even getting an allegory out of it.
But that’s exactly what happened to me last week. I stood in line at a total of TWO Post Offices over the course of two days for a grand total of one hour and 10 minutes. And no, I didn’t get a story out of it. Sorry, folks. Nothing for you today. It was just sheer frustration and boredom waiting in line at the Post Office for one hour and ten minutes of my life. An hour and ten minutes I will never get back.
What was I attempting to mail that was so important?
A script. To a competition for TV pilots.
It’s always a long shot with these deals. Hundreds, and usually thousands, of people enter these contests. The prizes are generally not very big. And the winners aren’t even necessarily The Best of the Best. Whole books have been written about how to work-the-system in these contests. How to instantly capture the interest of the unpaid, unskilled and unproven writers who will read your masterpiece. How to hit all the right notes in your script in order to make it recognizable as following all the rules they learned in film school. And how to create the types of characters, situations and plots these young readers want to see.
Of course, at the end of the day, sometimes the cream does indeed rise to the top. But sometimes not. Winning or losing any of these competitions generally means very little as far as the quality of your work. Then again, sometimes it does.
But for those of us without access to an agent or anyone to help push us forward---contests and blind query letters are often our only options.
And, while the financial reward is generally small if you do win---most competitions worth their weight have agents and industry people attached to the competition in some way.
And agents have to get their clients from somewhere, right? After all, not every agent can rep Steven King. Or James Patterson. Yes---James Patterson.
But essentially, if you can win or even place in any of the reputable competitions, you’re at least guaranteed to get a look-see from a sizeable bank of agents.
And whole SHELVES of books have been written on how to capture this elusive beast. Sure, it’s always a good idea to learn about the habits, likes, dislikes, and the best ways to seek out, bait, and take a steady aim at your prey. I own a few of these manuals myself. Can’t say I recommend any one over the other. They all seem to wind up saying pretty much the same thing. Which is? Well, basically, it’s like hunting a duck. Your chances are better if you go where the ducks are. You make sure you have all the tools of the trade and the proper bait. Then, you wait. When you sense something promising nearby, you put out an embarrassing duck call. Then you wait to see if your call is returned. And you wait some more. And you wait. And you wait.
Of course, at one point she was short on money and took on some freelance work with Vogue. Later on, an offer to put her columns into book form came out of the blue. And then, there was that failed attempt at turning those columns into a screenplay.
All of these things just seemed to fall into her lap. My point? Well, frankly, Carrie didn’t seem very ambitious for a NYC writer.
Of course, Sex in the City is fiction. It’s called SEX in the City, not Submissions in the City. No one is interested in watching an episode where she spends an hour in line at the Post Office trying to mail the sample chapters of her latest novel in an effort to interest a publisher---AND, after a whole hour in line not even getting an allegory out of it.
But that’s exactly what happened to me last week. I stood in line at a total of TWO Post Offices over the course of two days for a grand total of one hour and 10 minutes. And no, I didn’t get a story out of it. Sorry, folks. Nothing for you today. It was just sheer frustration and boredom waiting in line at the Post Office for one hour and ten minutes of my life. An hour and ten minutes I will never get back.
What was I attempting to mail that was so important?
A script. To a competition for TV pilots.
It’s always a long shot with these deals. Hundreds, and usually thousands, of people enter these contests. The prizes are generally not very big. And the winners aren’t even necessarily The Best of the Best. Whole books have been written about how to work-the-system in these contests. How to instantly capture the interest of the unpaid, unskilled and unproven writers who will read your masterpiece. How to hit all the right notes in your script in order to make it recognizable as following all the rules they learned in film school. And how to create the types of characters, situations and plots these young readers want to see.
Of course, at the end of the day, sometimes the cream does indeed rise to the top. But sometimes not. Winning or losing any of these competitions generally means very little as far as the quality of your work. Then again, sometimes it does.
But for those of us without access to an agent or anyone to help push us forward---contests and blind query letters are often our only options.
And, while the financial reward is generally small if you do win---most competitions worth their weight have agents and industry people attached to the competition in some way.
And agents have to get their clients from somewhere, right? After all, not every agent can rep Steven King. Or James Patterson. Yes---James Patterson.
But essentially, if you can win or even place in any of the reputable competitions, you’re at least guaranteed to get a look-see from a sizeable bank of agents.
And whole SHELVES of books have been written on how to capture this elusive beast. Sure, it’s always a good idea to learn about the habits, likes, dislikes, and the best ways to seek out, bait, and take a steady aim at your prey. I own a few of these manuals myself. Can’t say I recommend any one over the other. They all seem to wind up saying pretty much the same thing. Which is? Well, basically, it’s like hunting a duck. Your chances are better if you go where the ducks are. You make sure you have all the tools of the trade and the proper bait. Then, you wait. When you sense something promising nearby, you put out an embarrassing duck call. Then you wait to see if your call is returned. And you wait some more. And you wait. And you wait.
And you wait.
True hunters say the waiting is often the best part of the quest. There’s anticipation. Reflection. Bonding with nature and your fellow man.
However, if you spent several years sitting in a duck blind… Well, you’d probably give up, go back to the motel off the Interstate and drown your sorrows over those wasted years in a bottle of Jack Daniels. Duckless and bitter.
This is why most New York Struggling Writers are more like the character of Jack Berger---Carrie’s fellow-writer boyfriend who eventually wound up breaking up with her on a Post-It.
He begins by being funny and self-deprecating, which Carrie finds charming. But, while his career flounders, Carrie is hosting a fabulous book release party attended by the Who’s Who of Manhattan.
“My book party could’ve fit in the coat room here,” he jokes. But behind the sarcasm is a whole lot of bitter.
I know some of these bitter writers, actors, musicians, etc. They’re tough to hang out with. Sure, we all feel that way from time to time. And occasionally the panic attacks of reality set in. What am I doing with my life? That kind of lovely thing.
But people with day-to-day office jobs in a go-nowhere grind have these thoughts, too. The difference is: We still have a dream.
And the problem with those artists who’ve hit a permanent bitter stage is that they no longer have any belief in themselves.
I have no advice to offer here. After all, I’m just a waitress. But I’m also a writer. And if you’re not actually getting PAID to be a writer---well, the only way you can continue to call yourself one is by sitting down and WRITING.
And that is what I did today.
You see, after two or three days of thinking (despite the fact that I’ve pounded out oh-so-many pages for this blog) I start to feel the itch to really write.
That is why I always have at least TWO projects going at once.
Sure, if I were actually getting paid to work on something I would give it my full attention. But since no one is clamoring for my latest novel or screenplay… Well, to quote Eric Cartman, “I’ll do what I want!”
So today, I sat down to actually write (not think) and finish up some editing on the fourth episode of a television show for which I’ve already completed the first three. Do I have any faith that anyone will be interested in it? Well, I think it’s good. The rest is kind of a crap shoot.
Which is why I WILL end this with an actual piece of advice. From what I’ve learned over the years from my own experiences and those of others---write what you like. That’s the great thing about being a writer. No one is stopping you from writing. Getting someone (anyone) to read it is another case. But no one out there is turning off your computer or locking up your pens and paper. And, as long as you’re going to write, anyway---well, you might as well enjoy it.
And when you really enjoy what you do, eventually, someone else will, too.
True hunters say the waiting is often the best part of the quest. There’s anticipation. Reflection. Bonding with nature and your fellow man.
However, if you spent several years sitting in a duck blind… Well, you’d probably give up, go back to the motel off the Interstate and drown your sorrows over those wasted years in a bottle of Jack Daniels. Duckless and bitter.
This is why most New York Struggling Writers are more like the character of Jack Berger---Carrie’s fellow-writer boyfriend who eventually wound up breaking up with her on a Post-It.
He begins by being funny and self-deprecating, which Carrie finds charming. But, while his career flounders, Carrie is hosting a fabulous book release party attended by the Who’s Who of Manhattan.
“My book party could’ve fit in the coat room here,” he jokes. But behind the sarcasm is a whole lot of bitter.
I know some of these bitter writers, actors, musicians, etc. They’re tough to hang out with. Sure, we all feel that way from time to time. And occasionally the panic attacks of reality set in. What am I doing with my life? That kind of lovely thing.
But people with day-to-day office jobs in a go-nowhere grind have these thoughts, too. The difference is: We still have a dream.
And the problem with those artists who’ve hit a permanent bitter stage is that they no longer have any belief in themselves.
I have no advice to offer here. After all, I’m just a waitress. But I’m also a writer. And if you’re not actually getting PAID to be a writer---well, the only way you can continue to call yourself one is by sitting down and WRITING.
And that is what I did today.
You see, after two or three days of thinking (despite the fact that I’ve pounded out oh-so-many pages for this blog) I start to feel the itch to really write.
That is why I always have at least TWO projects going at once.
Sure, if I were actually getting paid to work on something I would give it my full attention. But since no one is clamoring for my latest novel or screenplay… Well, to quote Eric Cartman, “I’ll do what I want!”
So today, I sat down to actually write (not think) and finish up some editing on the fourth episode of a television show for which I’ve already completed the first three. Do I have any faith that anyone will be interested in it? Well, I think it’s good. The rest is kind of a crap shoot.
Which is why I WILL end this with an actual piece of advice. From what I’ve learned over the years from my own experiences and those of others---write what you like. That’s the great thing about being a writer. No one is stopping you from writing. Getting someone (anyone) to read it is another case. But no one out there is turning off your computer or locking up your pens and paper. And, as long as you’re going to write, anyway---well, you might as well enjoy it.
And when you really enjoy what you do, eventually, someone else will, too.
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