Redshirts (29 page)

Dude, are you serious?

Dude, I am serious. I am not high (being high is more fun), I am not making this up (if I was making things up, I would be getting paid for it), and I am not crazy (crazy would be more fun, too). This is for real.

Really?

Yes.

Really?

Yes.

No, really?

Shut up. Next question.

Why haven’t you discussed this with your therapist?

Because contrary to popular belief, not every writer in Los Angeles has been in therapy since before they could walk. All my neuroses are manageable (or were, anyway). I suppose I could get one, but that would be a hell of a first session, wouldn’t it, and I’m not entirely convinced I’d get out of there without being sedated and sent off to the funny farm. Call me paranoid.

Isn’t this kind of the plot to that movie
Stranger than Fiction
?

Maybe? That’s the Will Ferrell movie where he’s a character in someone’s book, right? (I know I could check this on IMDB, but I’m lazy.) Except for that I’m the writer, not the character. So same concept, different spin. Maybe?

But, look, even if it is, I didn’t say what was happening to me was creatively 100%
original
. I mean, there’s
The Purple Rose of Cairo,
which had characters coming down off the screen. There’s those Jasper Fforde books where everyone’s a fairy tale or literary character. There’s Denise Hogan’s books where she’s always arguing with her characters and sometimes they don’t listen to her and mess with her plots. My mom loves those. Hell, there’s
The Last Action Hero,
for God’s sake. Have you seen that? You have? I’m sorry.

There’s also the small but telling detail that those are all fictional, and this is
really happening to me
. Like I said, a subtle difference. But an important one. I’m not going for originality here. I’m trying to get this solved.

Hey, is your show [insert name of show here]?

Friend, what part of “I want to be anonymous” don’t you understand? Even if you guessed right I’m still not going to tell you. Want a hint? Fine: It’s not
30 Rock
. Also I am not Tina Fey. Mmmm … Tina Fey.

Likewise:

You know that these days the Internet
does
know if you’re a dog, right?

Yes, but
this
dog opened this blog account using a throwaway e-mail address and cruises the Web using Tor.

Why don’t you just write scripts where people don’t get killed?

Well, I
could
do that, but two things will happen then:

1. The script gets turned in and the producers say, “The stakes need to be raised in this scene. Kill someone.” And then I have to kill someone in the script, or a co-writer does, or one of the producers does a quick uncredited wash of the script, or the director zaps a character during shooting, and someone dies
anyway
.

2. Even if I don’t kill anyone, there still needs to be drama, and on a show like mine, drama usually means if someone isn’t killed, then they are maimed or mutilated or given a disease that turns them into a pustule with legs. Admittedly, turning a character into a pustule is better than killing them dead, but it’s still not
comfortable
for them, and it’s still me doing it to them. So I still have guilt.

Believe me, there’s nothing I’d like to do better than turn in scripts whether the characters do nothing but lounge on pillows, eating chocolates and having hot, cathartic sex for an hour (minus commercial time, your capitalistically inspired refractory period). I think our audience wouldn’t mind either—it would be inspirational and educational! But it’s not that kind of show, and there’s only so edgy basic cable is going to let us be.

I have to write stuff that’s actually like what gets written for our show, basically. If I don’t, I’ll get canned. I don’t want to get canned.

You understand that if what you’re saying is actually true, then the existential ramifications are astounding!

Yeah, it’s pretty weird shit. I could go on for hours about it—that is, if it wasn’t
also
messing with my day-to-day life in a pretty substantial way. You know what it’s like? It’s like waking up one morning, going outside and finding a
Tyrannosaurus rex
in your front yard, staring at you. For the first five seconds, you’re completely amazed that a real live dinosaur is standing in front of you. And then you run like hell, because to a
T. rex,
you’re a chewy, crunchy bite-sized snack.

Is there a
T. rex
in your front yard?

No.

Damn.

You’re not helping.

For someone who says they’re having writing block, aren’t you writing a lot?

Yeah, but this isn’t real writing, is it? I’m not doing anything creative here, I’m just answering comments and asking for help. Blogs are nice and all, but what I really need to be doing is writing scripts. And I can’t do that right now. The creative lobe of my brain is completely blown out. That’s where the blockage is.

You mentioned that you were using Final Draft. Have you considered that maybe your software is the problem? I use Scrivener myself. You should try it!

Wow, really? Dude, if someone’s having a heart attack in front of you, do you take that opportunity to talk about your amazing low-cholesterol diet, too? Because that would be
awesome
.

The software is not the problem. The problem is that every time I write
I kill someone
. If you’re going to try to help, don’t suggest a particular brand of sprinkler after the house is already on fire. Grab a hose.

Related to this:

I believe everything you say and I think we should meet so we can discuss this in detail possibly in my SECRET BASEMENT LAIR AT MY MOM’S HOUSE
WHERE I LIVE.

Oooooh, man.
That’s
another reason to remain safely anonymous, isn’t it.

So now that the Q&A session is done, does anyone actually have help for me? Please?

AW

*   *   *

Finally! An actual good idea from a comment, which I will now replicate in full:

In your last post you mentioned some movies and books in which the line between the creator and the created had been broken (or at least smudged) in some way. Have you considered that perhaps the people who wrote those movies and books might have had experiences similar to yours? It’s possible that they have, and just haven’t ever talked about it for the same reason you’re trying to stay anonymous, which is, it sounds completely crazy. But if you approached them and your experience is similar to theirs, maybe they would talk to you in confidence. The fact you actually are a screenwriter of some note might keep them from fleeing in terror, at least at first.

The “at least at first” bit is a nice touch, thank you. And I’m glad you have the delusion that a scriptwriter on a weekly basic cable series has any sort of credibility. It warms my heart.

But to answer your question, no, it didn’t occur to me at all, because, well, it’s nuts, isn’t it. And we live in the really real world, where stuff like this doesn’t happen. But on the other hand, it happened to
me,
and—no offense to me—I’m not all
that
special, either as a writer or a human being.

So: I have to admit that it’s entirely possible that what’s happened to me has happened to others. And if it has happened to others, then it’s entirely possible they’ve found some way to deal with it that doesn’t involve not writing anymore. And that’s the goal here. And now I have a plan: Contact those writers and find out if they’ve got a secret experience like mine.

Which sounds perfectly reasonable until you think about what that actually means. To give you an idea, let me present to you a quick, one-act play entitled
Anon-a-Writer Presents His Conundrum to Someone Who Is Not the Internet
:

ANON-A-WRITER

Hello! I have been visited by characters from my scripts who inform me that I kill them whenever I write an action scene. Does this happen to you too?

OTHER WRITER

Hello, Anon-a-Writer! In one hand I have a restraining order, and in the other I have a Taser. Which would you like to meet first?

Yes, I see no way that this perfect plan could ever go wrong.

But on the other hand I don’t have a
better
plan, do I. So here’s what I’m going to do:

Make a list of writers whose characters break the reality wall one way or another.

Contact them and find out if it’s based on their actual real-world experience, without coming across like a psychotic freakbag.

Profit! Okay, not profit, but if their work
is
based on their real-life experiences, find out from them a way to keep writing.

Off to craft introductions that don’t sound too creepy. Wish me luck.

AW

*   *   *

Guys, seriously now: Stop trying to guess which show I work for. I’m just not going to tell you. Because I don’t want to get
fired
. Which is what happens when people like me talk about their jobs to people like you, i.e., the Internet. And especially when people like me are claiming their characters are coming to life and talking to them. I know it’s good fun for you to be guessing, but, come on. A little charity, please. I promise you that after this is all done, if everything works out, I’ll tell you. Say, in five years. Or after I win an Emmy. Whichever comes first (bet on five years).

Okay? Okay. Thank you.

*   *   *

Hello, Internet. You’re wanting updates. Well, here we go. I’ve identified some creative types who have written stories similar to my situation, including those we mentioned here earlier: Woody Allen, for
Purple Rose of Cairo,
Jasper Fforde, Zak Penn and Adam Leff (
Last Action Hero
), Zach Helm (
Stranger than Fiction
) and Denise Hogan. The plan here is to approach them credits first—to at least suggest I’m not completely insane—and then to ask them in a
very subtle way
about whether what they’ve written has any connection to their real-life experiences. Then off they go to the writers. And we’ll see if anyone nibbles.

And, to anticipate some of you raising your hands out there in the audience, yes, I’ll share with you the responses—after I snip out major identifying details. Oh, don’t look at me like that. Remember that anonymity thing I’m striving for? Yeah. Too many details and I’m out of my very peculiar little closet (it’s a lovely closet; it smells of pine and desperation). But on the other hand, as you’ve been helpful, I figure I owe you continuing updates on this thing.

Also, to make no mistake about it, I fully expect that the responses will be, “Wow, you’re even crazier than most random people who write me, would you like my suggestion for antipsychotic pharmaceuticals.” Because that’s how I would respond to this showing up randomly in my inbox. It’s how I
have
responded, in fact. You wouldn’t
believe
the sort of random crazy gets sent to you when you’re a writer on a successful television series. Or maybe you would. Crazy is highly distributed these days.

(insert pause to send off e-mails)

And they’re off. Now we get to see how long it takes before anyone responds. Want to start a betting pool?

AW

*   *   *

Wow, so that didn’t take long at all. The first response. E-mail posted below:

XXX XXXXX
via
gmail.com          
show details
4:33 PM (0 minutes ago)

Dear ANON-A-WRITER:

Hello, I’m XXX XXXXXX, assistant for XXXXX XXXXX. We received your query and wanted to know whether it was some sort of creative or interview project you’re doing for a major magazine or newspaper. Please let us know.

My response:

Hello, XXX XXXXXX. No, it’s not for any newspaper or magazine or blog (well, it might be for my own personal blog). It’s more of something I’m asking for my own information. Thank you and let me know if XXXXX XXXXX has time for a chat. It would be very useful to me.