Category: Work

In case you’re wondering, yes I’m still writing, and yes I’m working on something new. Working title – Caravan.

Here’s a little (unedited!) quote:

Suddenly, the crowd exploded with cheers. Even Jack found himself getting up in excitement. He started climbing on top of a grimy, sooty chimney. As he pulled himself on top of it, he positioned himself out of the dirty smoke and could barely catch a glimpse of the man coming onto the stage below. Kinley’s black hair fell onto his shoulders, which were draped with the most expensive yellow linen. He looked strong and handsome, and Jack, who longed for nothing more but to be a grown-up, was in awe.

Kinley raised his hand over the crowd. Immediately, everyone fell silent. “Seven years ago, I embarked on my journey to the Old World. Only now have I returned.” He took a dramatic pause. “Like many, I started a caravan and set off through the desert. I was young, poor and eager for adventure. I have seen many things. But now I know what lies at the far end of the desert. And it is beautiful.”

And that’s the end of my three-week development boot camp with Wouter Bongaerts. More info later, but it’s shaping up to be something quite awesome.

I have the weirdest job. There are days where I sit at my desk, slamming my sausagey fingers down on the keys, spewing sentences out like and feeling awesome like Dostojewski or Hasselhoff in Baywatch. Then, there are days where I use Dostojewski and Hasselhoff in the same sentence.

I will never say my job is hard. I mean, it surely isn’t easy and it’s deceptively time-intensive, but it’s not out to actively destroy me like my Summer job at the slaughterhouse where I imagined I was playing a game called Chicken Tetris just so I could make it through the day.

In a metaphor, I like to call myself a plumber. I take pleasure in installing your toilet and I love toying with the pipes until they’re completely tight – but that means wading through handfuls of shit.

That’s the job. You twist the pipes until no more shit comes out. Because no matter how good you get: Shit will come out. It has to. Once you can do it without getting your hands smeared with shit – well hurrah, you’re officially a hack.

Here’s a little link on what got me started on the shitty tirade that climaxed with a crappy shit pun: Andy Bobrow, writer for the newly canceled Community, tries to get Dan Harmon to cure his Shit Writing Syndrome, a disease plaguing every writer. 

If you don’t like to be entertained by a professional comedy writer, then by all means don’t click the highly interesting links at the bottom of the article where he compares two drafts for “Mixology Certification”, an excellent Community episode that (obviously) started with a very bad screenplay.