Well, I did it. I got a manager. All that hard work paid off and I can finally kiss PA jobs and this column goodbye. I’m going to be rich soon, so I figure it’s okay if I tell you what went down.
My partner and I had a few weeks off and decided we would write a comedy. It sounded like a good idea, although I’ve never written a comedy before. It’s not that I don’t like to laugh; it’s just not my genre. Hell, I don’t even know if I’m funny. When it was finished, I was able to get it into the hands of producer whose film I had worked on as a PA (which is why I say, be nice to everyone).
A few days later, I get a call back from him saying that he really liked the story and had given it to a management company that would be a good match for us. A week later we get an email from one of the managers asking us out for coffee to discuss the script. We agreed to meet at some foo-foo coffee shop in Hollywood. By now, I felt like I was going on some sort of bizarre blind date. Were they going to like us? Were we going to like them? Would it end up being just a one-script stand?
My partner and I arrive at the coffee house early, too early. You never can tell how bad L.A. traffic is going to be. It’s a hot day, and of course we had dressed nicely to impress our “would-be suitors” – my partner even shaved! By the time the managers show up, we are sweaty and uncomfortable, not to mention nervous. We order up drinks and sit down. Introductions are made. We chit-chat about movies and video games and things begin to relax. We have another round of drinks. Now the mood has changed and we’re feeling pretty good. The managers seem to like us and we think they’re legit.
Then one of the managers gets to the point. He leans over. “We want you”, he says. “The script is solid and we feel that this is the kind of script that Hollywood needs right now. My partner and I are thrilled but keep it hidden. We agree to give them the script, and wait to see what happens. We shake hands and start to leave knowing we’ve scored. As we do, they ask when they can get two more comedy scripts from us. I hear the brakes screech to a halt in my head. They want to give studios the script along with our other comedies. We try to explain we don’t normally write comedies; most of our writing is more serious. We share some of our other script ideas; they seem less interested. To their credit, they’re trying to package us on what we’ve given them. They need to sell us to a studio and right now it’s as comedic writers.
My partner and I leave with mixed feelings, but we’re happy that our script is now being read. We go home and start racking our brains for our next comedy. It may sound silly, but finding management really is like dating. You’re meeting complete strangers and trying to see if you click. It’s not so much about your work, that’s why you got a meeting in the first place. It’s more about feeling you out. Do you match up? Do you fit their niche? So, now we have a script. We have management, but we still haven’t made it, and we’ve been neatly packaged as writers who write comedies. Looks like I better keep writing more articles for this column.
Randy Bookman
