It's been an interesting, and frustrating few months. Unfortunately, the frustrating part I'm not particularly at liberty to discuss, however, I'm hoping that the situation will resolve more fairly in my favour as I've busted my chops for little return. Ah, television. Your sweet, sweet siren call will always keep me coming back for more, even after you've punched me in the face and stolen my lunch money.
The positive has been the realization that despite the incredible lack of commitment I've shown to almost everything in my life so far, writing - and in particular, screenwriting - is not one of those things. That's the only thing I can confidently say that I am supposed to do with my life.
Aside from eating chocolate cake.
So, I've been puttering away on a few new projects, and a few new spec scripts, and I've been waffling on whether or not to apply for the CFC Prime Time Program. Waffling because I'm not feeling that the material I'd be submitting is up to par, as far as what I'm capable of. It's a great program, and it's launched many a television writing career. Last year, my application was rushed because I decided at the last minute to apply. Unfortunately, I'm in the same boat this year. I really want to put my best foot forward, so if it's not, then I probably won't. Besides, other options have presented themselves in the last few weeks, so it may be in my best interest to wait it out, spend time preparing in advance, and reapply next year instead.
*Slap hand* for placing all my eggs in a small basket. One of these days, I'll learn.
On to the positive. On Tuesday, I got to see one of my favorite comedy writers, Conan O'Brien, on his "Legally Prohibited From Being Funny On Television" tour. Holyfuckingshitawesomepandacakes would be an understatement. Came away from the show pumped up, and ready to knuckle down for some serious keyboard poking.
Today, while I was struggling to put words on the page, the phone rang. Philsy.
Him: "Hey, I've got someone here who wants to say hello!"
Me: "Uh, okay."
Conan Fucking O'Brien: "Hi Erin, this is Conan O'Brien!"
I was speechless. I was also a babbling idiot. I couldn't dig up a joke fast enough, and after two minutes we'd said our goodbyes. He told me to keep writing specs. Lots, and lots of specs. As many specs of existing shows as my brain could squeeze out. Stunt specs, safe specs. Big specs, small specs. Plaid specs, and specs with wings.
Honestly, I'm still in shock. But it's the good kind of shock. Potential energy for greatness that is sitting in reserve, that I can draw from on days when the little black raincloud just won't GTFO.
Thanks, Mr. O'Brien. I'll never wash that ear again.