HEADLINE NEWS...FROM TWENTY-ONE YEARS AGO

I finished another spec script today, this time for a Canadian television series, "Being Erica". And I have a rough sketch for another script to start tomorrow. All of this in an attempt to get an agent--or someone!--to read my work. I am told that if someone finally reads a script and likes it, that person will want to immediately see something else. Gotta make sure you're not a one-shot wonder. Hence, the portfolio that I'm creating.

As with "Big Bang Theory", writing a script for "Being Erica" was immensely enjoyable and, upon finishing, incredibly satisfying. The whole tone of the writing was different as "Erica" is a drama involving time travel, flashbacks and quirky quotes from a mysterious therapist. I became hooked on the show over the summer, based on a recommendation from my cousin. I caught the first season reruns that followed and I went back and watched some some of the early episodes online to ensure I had a firm grasp of the show's premise and its structure. The "research" was worth it. While writing, I could hear the characters' voices. I also tweaked the plot based on comments and experiences from prior episodes.

For my next script, I'm developing an idea reminiscent of something I wrote years ago. I decided to review that piece of writing, but I could not recall where I'd stored it. I went down to the basement and dug through boxes of things I cannot defend keeping. Then, in an old briefcase, I found not what I was searching for, but something I had to stop and read. It was an article I'd cut out from The Dallas Morning News, the date: March 16, 1988. Title: "Making it as a screenwriter". Twenty-one years ago I dreamed of becoming a writer. The date and title alone reminded me how important this year is for me. So many years of dreaming and so little time to fully focus on writing. I did write--sporadically--and I did finish scripts that I liked, but I dared not show them to anyone.

It takes a risk like this, going without a regular source of income, to force me to be open about my writing and to do whatever is necessary to get it out there. As my bank account dwindles, I couldn't be happier with my decision.

That old script I was searching for? Turned out it wasn't in the basement at all. I found it in the filing cabinet in my office, in the third drawer, the place where I had looked in the first place. Somehow it hid between other files during my first inspection. While I'd set out to find a teleplay, the yellowed newspaper clipping was the true find.

Fortuitous, don't you think?