Co-Pilot

I am distraught.  At the end of my rope.  At the end of my noose, even.  I am a few hours away from finishing this pilot, which tomorrow must go to one of my VIBs (or Very Important Bosses), as well as the agent I met with on Thursday who ALLEGEDLY wants to sign me (and I'll believe it when I see a check or someone brings me free bagels with chive cream cheese - either one.  I'm not picky).  Apparently, this is a big deal, despite the whole I-haven't-signed-with-him-yet and still have to go back to the agency and meet some of the partners this week.  But Cliffhanger and the Staff Writer are practically throwing me a frickin' ticker-tape parade, so I s'pose that, whatever happens, it's worth celebrating.  So much so that Cliffhanger has left me all alone to finish the pilot while she goes crazyin Vegas with the single nickel I gave her to play the slot machines.  According to her latest text, I am ten cents richer.  Finally... some income!

Despite all the stress of, you know, producing something that will trick people into believing they can make money off me, I have had a lovely weekend.  Dinner at Tender Greens (if you're ever in Culver City and strapped for cash, stop by - nothing costs more than ten dollars) Friday, hiking Saturday morning, Mexican food with Prancers Saturday night, then writing all day yesterday. 

Let me just stop myself right here - I am a diva when I'm writing.  I lose all sense of decorum, I will eat an entire pound of chocolate MERELY TO PROCRASTINATE and not because it tastes good, and I get upset if I can't find an episode of "Little House on the Prairie" to keep on in the background.  Did you hear me when I mentioned the word procrastinate?  Okay, good.  Because yesterday, I discovered Facebook.  So you'll be glad to know I was able to put the chocolate down in lieu of stalking everyone I have ever met and whose name I can remember.  I now have almost forty friends.  I think I can break a hundred before I get this &*&#$ pilot done.  If it weren't a frickin' national holiday, with people not checking email and spending their days at the beach and whatnot, I would SO TOTALLY have already broken a hundred. 

Yesterday, I spent a sum total of three hours on Facebook.  Between scenes.  During lunch.  And I may or may not have sidled on over to see if anyone had confirmed/validated/whatever the proper Facebookian term may be our friendship while I was in the midst of writing the crucial Act III break.  They hadn't.  Assholes.  Anyway, as a result of this newfangled way to make every adult on the planet feel like they will eternally be in middle school, I got behind on my writing.  I was supposed to grab dinner from Bay Cities with the Designated Driver, and they close at 6.  She knocked on my door promptly at 5:30, when I had just installed the Good Karma function on my Facebook page. 

"Oh, no," says I.  "I am right in the middle of this VERY.  IMPORTANT.  SCENE.  And I cannot possibly think about food until I can understand the central conflict.  Not only of this character, but of the world.  Because these issues I'm dealing with in the script, they are small, but they can be applied on a larger scale, see, and how can I stop now?  I cannot.  And I cannot leave to get something so trivial as food, when art is feeding my soul--"

"--So you want me to bring you something back?"  Says the Designated Driver.

"I couldn't ask you to do that." 

"So you want maple turkey with havarti cheese, the works, and hot peppers, right?"

"Oh, fine.  If it makes you feel better, go ahead.  But I can't even think of eating--"

And she was already out the door with a roll of her eyes.  Half an hour later, I ate that entire sandwich in five minutes.  Then I washed my hands and went back to Facebook.  

Art's cool and everything, but given the choice, I'd pick a turkey sandwich every time.