Now I wonder If I will ever be
The lighthouse in a sea of shadows
That you were when you shined for me
When I was going under
You knew when and where to be
Now I’m as good as Ebenezer after his conversion
I’d give all my goods away with no coercion
I’d give almost anything
Just to hear the hum of your wings
I’ve got to say once again how dazzled I am at the quality and diversity of conversation that takes place within the hallowed confines of the Slope of Hope comments section. I am so pleased to have created a gathering place for such intelligent, thoughtful, and good-hearted people. I don’t hang out in comments nearly as much as I should – – – and I do feel guilty about it, from time to time – – – but when I do poke my head in, honestly, you folks are just amazing.
The other thing I wanted to mention is my screenplay. As some of you may recall, I wrote my first screenplay last year. I never planned to do one in my life………I had never even considered it…….but I jumped into it with no skills, no training, no experience. And, if I may say so, it’s absolutely beautiful. Truly, I’m proud of my creation.
I had accepted, however, that it had no chance of actually becoming a movie. Just scratching the surface of the movie industry, it became immediately clear to me that tens of thousands of aspiring screenwriters spend years – – decades, often – – and get absolutely nowhere. At best, most of them can hope to do side work polishing up other scripts. It’s merciless.
I even looked at screenwriting contests, and most of them attracted literally about 10,000 entrants all vying for a prize that was often no better than being included in an elite workshop and getting some exposure to producers. Simply stated, 99.9% of screenplays get used to line bird cages, and I was sure mine would be no different.
Color me surprised, then, when merely days after I finished it, I was contacted by a firm that expressed an interest in it. The unfortunate thing is that – – and I’m not going to go into details as to why – – some of the screenplay would be censored due to its content. I don’t usually hold myself out as an “artiste”, but in this instance, my sense of artistic integrity (which I didn’t even know existed) was violated.
I felt oddly proud, because in spite of the fact I should have dropped to my knees with gratitude that anyone would have any interest at all in my little effort, I actually took umbrage. Isn’t that charmingly obnoxious? Don’t let the way I dress fool you. I am not a whore.
