Stories. My stories. (Not all them of them are fiction.)
Over near the bar, THE WRITER stands alone, watching the people. He wears brown leather Topsiders with no socks, tan chinos and a Polo shirt under a navy blazer with brass buttons. His brow is furrowed behind dark glasses. He’s just discovered there’s no booze at this party. THE READER approaches. She nods politely in greeting to the WRITER. She doesn’t know he’s a…
There’s a bakery around the corner where I often get doughnuts and sandwiches. It’s one of those family operations run by an Asian-American clan who have a stronger work ethic than any white Protestant I’ve ever known. They make a mean turkey sandwich on a croissant whose selling price can’t be beat. It’s a busy day, two people waiting at the register for their…
Three weeks into production, they let you know they need a rewrite. All the scenes in the last two weeks of filming need to be redone. The actress broke her nose and had to have surgery. “You can’t see the work so there’s no need to re-shoot,” the associate producer informs you. “But you can hear it. Her voice is different.” You’re about to…
I’m a Hollywood monkey, so my favorite meetings are the ones with fruit. This is also why I like visiting the set: Craft Services usually has fruit, and there’s often a lot of it, because everyone else is eating donuts or chips. Inappropriate starches are not my thing, but bananas, as you know, are a monkey’s best friend. When they called the meeting, I…
It’s a meeting. Two producers are already in the room, each of them with a manila folder of notes open on the conference table. The assistant holds the door for me. She closes the door behind me as I enter. One of the producers stands and introduces himself as Ken. He introduces the other producer as Kyle. Kyle does not stand or greet me.…