2 posts tagged “la”

I have returned from the land of nose jobs and snow jobs and I am the better for it. Other than the fact that I still seem to be on Pacific Time. Especially in the mornings. At least that's my story for now.

The Sitcom Writer's Room Workshop was a blast. There's nothing like being trapped in a boardroom with four strangers, trying to hammer out a ten page scene, everyone talking over each other trying to get their jokes in the script, to make you really appreciate the solitude of writing a play or novel. Christina Ferguson has a wonderful account of the weekend here. So does R. A. Porter.

As a writer I'm used to doing my own thing. By that I mean, taking my sweet-ass time to complete even the simplest of projects. I obviously haven't developed any better discipline since my high school book report days. So part of the reason I wanted to attend this workshop was to see if I could actually work with other like-minded folk, in a deadline enviornment, without blowing a major gasket.

The basic gist of the workshop was that we were shown a scene from a sitcom. (Think King of Queens or Everybody Loves Raymond) It was in need of some pretty extensive work. We were given notes from "The Studio" and "The Network". Notes that often conflicted each other. Then we were sent off to a room and were told we had the night to fix it. The only deadline was that it had to be done before 6am the next day so they'd have time to get it printed out.

We hit the boardroom around three or so and, being the cocky s.o.b. that I am, I figured we'd have things wrapped up no later than seven or eight. Well, I thought that until everyone started talking. At the same time. With different ideas about how the scene should go.

It was easy to fall into the trap of wanting to completely blow the scene up and re-write it as some kick-ass, edgy piece that would make all the other teams, and Ken, ooh and aah at our well honed writing skills. We spent a good two hours debating whether to do that or to just rewrite the scene to make it work. "What if Bob (the husband) is taking yoga lessons to spice up their sex life?" "What if it's a tantric sex studio?" "What if, instead of being a bimbo, Nicole is mentally retarded?" (Like there's a difference there.)

Luckily, more rational heads prevailed and we decided to stick with the scene as it existed and just reworked it so that it made sense and punched up the jokes. I think our team did a pretty good job in the end. Though we didn't finish until eleven o'clock and me, being naive, assumed that we were the last ones to turn it in. We were first. The final group didn't finish until sometime around 4:30am.

We watched the scenes the next morning and it was fun to see what everyone did with it. I have to admit that I was very pleased with how well our scene went over. Especially after I overheard one of the participants say "I heard one group finised at eleven. I bet their's is going to be shit."

After that we broke for lunch and then returned to do another polish on the scene. And then we were treated to a panel discussion with some of the writers responsible for making my baby sitter so damn engaging. Ken's writing partner David Isaacs (The team that worked on MASH, Taxi, Cheers, Fraiser), Sam Simon (The man credited with making the Simpsons what they are today, Taxi, The Drew Carey Show), Marley Sims (Home Improvement, Sabrina the Teenage Witch), Fred Rubin (Night Court, Archie Bunker's Place, Webster) and, of course, Ken.

I could have sat and listened to these guys talk shop all day. Especially when they were telling war stories about dealing with Mary Tyler Moore or answering hate mail from viewers or realizing they were on a stinker of show and just writing to entertain each other. I don't think television is the same place it was back in the late 70s and 80s. But man would it have been cool to have been a writer in one of the rooms with those cats. I think it was Sam who said something like "There isn't a show we watch together as a country anymore" and that made me a little sad.

I remember watching the final episode of MASH with my whole family and crying when it was over. Millions of people were doing the exact same thing at the exact same time. A shared experience. Other than the Super Bowl and The Oscars when does that happen? It would be amazing to be part of such a show, but I think the days of that happening are long gone.

I went to this workshop to see if I would even like being in a writer's room. I think it would be a good time, as long as there weren't too many assholes in the bunch. Which, considering it's LA, is a tall order. But I also took away from the panel discussion that there is an expiration date on writers. At least staff writers. Just like actors and actresses. They want the next young thing. Not some middle-aged person who doesn't know who Hannah Montana is. That's a little bubble-bursting to think about.

In the end, what I'm looking for is a community of creative folks to make memories with. Whether it's writing a sitcom or a play or sketch show. Because I love the writing. I love creating a world and people that didn't exist before. But I also really enjoy the process. The sitting around and cracking each other up that comes with it. And I've already got a pretty decent community right here in Chicago.

Of course, if Hollywood comes calling I will bolt faster than you can say "Mid Season Replacement". That's the kind of loyal friend I am.

We're gonna chalk today's adventure up to "Lessons Learned". This is a pretty thick file in my life. There are all sorts of nuggets of wisdom in here; "Don't taunt bulls while you're on the wrong side of the fence." "Don't try to take hair-pin turns going 60 miles an hour." "Don't jump into plate glass windows." Real useful stuff. Now we can add "Don't make non-refundable airline and hotel reservations without checking the dates first."

I'm headed out to LA for a weekend television writing workshop with Ken Levine. His written for MASH, Cheers and Fraiser to name three of my favorite shows. When I found out he would be teaching a workshop that recreates the feel of a tv writer's room, I jumped at the chance to attend. Of course, as workshops go, it cost a pretty penny. $900 and change just for two days. But this guy knows tv comedy, so it's money well spent. Besides, I have a credit card that's just aching to be maxed out. I signed up for the workshop back in May. It's at the end of July. The 21st and 22nd to be exact. But somewhere in my short circuited brain, what I latched on to was "End of July".

So a few months passed and I realized I still needed to purchase a ticket out there and get a room for the weekend. I have friends out there, but they live closer to Hollywood, and the workshop is going to take place at the LA Hilton. Now, I'm not crazy about giving my hard-earned money to any business associated with a certain ex-con heiress, but it's the most convenient thing to do. (I've learned many times over that convenience trumps morals.) I do a little noodling around on the internets and find a pretty decent, non-stop flight and a discounted rate at said hotel. I don't even think about it. I grab them both. The flight was about $400 less than anything else I'd seen and by booking the hotel through this site, I saved another $100. Like money in the bank.

The weekend of July 27th is now booked. Oh no, don't ask me to come to your show, I'll be in LA. Sorry, I can't do rehearsals that weekend, I'll be in LA. What's that? You want me take your headshots that weekend, I'm sorry, I guess you haven't heard, I'll be in LA that weekend. Or so I've led myself to believe for about a month now. Never even gave it another thought. Patted myself on the back for making my reservations so far in advance. No last minute headaches here.

Today I received an email from the host of the workshop "5 days til Writer's Room" it starts. "Can't wait to see you all this weekend." What? I think to myself. That's odd, he must have sent it out a week early. Right? Anyone? A line of sweat breaks out on my forehead. A sinking feeling starts to fill my stomach. I re-read the email. He's talking about this weekend. But that's not right. Is it? I scan back through old emails. Emails, that by the grace of my laziness, I haven't deleted from my inbox. And there it is. A link to the website they set up about the workshop. One click will solve this little conundrum...

I stare at my screen. "July 21st & 22nd" it says. I continue to stare. I've spent over $2000 for two days worth of education at the feet of a master and I might not even be there. Because I, on the ball as I am, will be there a week later! What. The. Fuck?

First thing I do is call the hotel. The young woman on the phone is very helpful; "You want to reschedule your reservations? Not a problem. When were they for? Okay. I just need the confirmation number..." There's a pause here. I hear the clicking of her keyboard. She "hmmm"s to herself. "You made this reservation through a discount site, didn't you?" I am mentally slapping my cheapskate forehead. "Yes." I whisper. "I'm sorry, but I can't do anything to help you. You'll have to talk to them." And that's it. No supervisor to help. No amount of complaining will make it different. Because her hands are tied.

I can feel the muscles in the back of my neck start to tighten. I call the airline. Guess what? Same story. Yes, they can get me on another flight for this Friday but it will cost me $1300. So now, no only am I out the for the first reservation screw-up, if I don't want to flush my workshop fee down the shitter, I have to pony up another grand just to get me there. I tell the woman I'll call her back.

I slam things around my apartment. I slump on the floor and want to become one with the forgotten dust bunnies under the couch. (Hey, an M&M!) "This is bullshit," I tell myself. "This is the lesson you have to learn for not checking the date." I say, resigned to loosing all my money and my chance to sit in the same room with the man who used to put words in Hawkeye Pierce's mouth. "This is what you deserve."

I wish there was a rousing pep talk here. A speech where I tell myself that I do deserve this weekend. That it's not over until I say it's over. But it doesn't go down like that. I simply sigh and think "There's still room on the Chase Visa Card." And with that, I stand up and dust myself off. I sit down at the computer and pray to the internet gods for help. They have seen my suffer. They have heard my cries of anguish. They decide to take pity on me. I find a plane ticket cheaper than the first one. I don't hesitate, I take it. I call back the other airline to cancel my previous reservation. When they ask if I'd like to reschedule, I inform them that I've already done so through another airline for less money. They apologize and offer me a credit in the amount of my first ticket, which is good for one year. I thank them and accept. I call the hotel, they still can't help me with the first reservation, but they make a new booking that is for the same, discounted price.

As it stands right now, I'm only out the price of the first hotel booking. But that's only because the discount website's main offices aren't open after 6pm Chicago time. I fully intend to speak with them tomorrow. I'll let you know how it turns out. As well as the workshop that I will be attending.

Oh, and if we had plans for this weekend, I'm sorry, I'm going to be in LA.