"...perhaps there is hope for the rest of us little shlubs who simply want to take our little box of beans and sell them for a fair price at the market." Josh Friedman
I'm pimping Josh Friedman today because seriously, if anyone's blog is worth pimping, it's Josh's. But, his posts are infrequent these days and apparently his fan base (yes, he has a fan base) has been lamenting it.
That includes me.
Okay, so maybe I haven't whined out loud (much) but I do visit his blog every week hoping to find something new and instead read something old because as any junkie knows, a leftover or substitute fix is better than none at all.
Same reason homeless alcoholics use your loose change to buy Listerine.
Just what makes an aspiring (nobody) screenwriter from Picayune, Pennsylvania or Tumbleweed, Texas think a professional screenwriter owes the world an unpaid piece of his mind, heart, or soul? It's like saying, "yeah, I know that's your own box of beans, but why haven't you given me any of them in three months?"
From whence does said sense of entitlement come?
Probably the same place that breeds the reality show mentality that says screenwriters owe a debt of gratitude for the privilege of working without a proper wage. And, how do I know this from my free seat on the plains of Texas? From a guy who DOES write a periodic piece of his screenwriting mind, heart, & soul without earning a dime for doing it.
No, it's not the same thing. But because screenwriters like Josh Friedman, Ted Elliott and Craig Mazin (among many others), give their unpaid time to expose and write about unpaid, underpaid, and under (or over) regulated injustices, the rest of us are catching on.
These screenwriters don't get paid to tell us about all the writers not getting paid. And yet, we whine when they don't.
Go back to your Terminator script, Josh. I'll just sit quietly over here and catch whatever beans you happen to drop.
They are, after all, your beans.