Foto Fun

Happy Ides of March.  Tomorrow I begin posting my Far East travelogue.  To whet your appetite here are some photos.   These were taken on my iPhone so don't be fooled by their amazing professional quality. 

 

The stunning skyline of Shanghai.

The dazzling skyline of Hong Kong.

A jazz combo in Beijing.  The singer was so bored that during the other musicians' solos she was texting.   That's what you call stage presence! 

China's version of the Hollywood sign.   Only really stupid people or people with horrible depth perception try to end it all by jumping off this sign. 

Since the sign was not in English I have no idea what they served at this restaurant.

I can't believe this suit was marked down. 

This is what Hannibal Lector wears while watching NFL games.

What you really want to see on a ship.   Hopefully, it was a drill.

Okay, a real one.  Tokyo at sunset.   More photos during the week. 

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How do you get an agent?

This is a repost from four years ago, but it is by far the question I get asked the most so I figured it was worth another shot (since you all did not get agents the first time I posted it).

I wish there was an easy answer. But the truth is you need persistence, sometimes a little ingenuity, and luck.

There is a directory of agents that the Writers Guild offers. Some smaller agencies will accept new submissions. Contact all of them.

Try to distinguish yourself. And by that I don’t mean grab a sign and stand on the interstate. This is a writing career, not voiceover work. Bizarre stunts like billboards and Mardi Gras float cars just scream that you’re a loser and need to be hospitalized. That is not what you want.

Get yourself noticed by entering and winning contests, be the pride of your college’s writing program, write a play or short film or YouTube video that attracts positive attention.

Networking and contacts are important. That’s one of the reasons it’s so much easier if you’re in Los Angeles. You can work out in the same gym as an agent. He's the guy on the Stairmaster texting.  A fellow parent at your kids’ school could be a tenpercenter (I always loved that expression). Get into any pick-up basketball game in West L.A. Chances are you’ll be slamming a WME agent into the boards before too long.

Do you know a working writer who is a big fan of your work? Ask him to recommend you to his agent. Do you have a professor who loves your work and is willing to make a few calls on your behalf?

Date Anne Hathaway.

Find out where agents went to college. Maybe you and a CAA guy both are Southwest Arkansas State A & M alums. Use that as an introduction.

Do you know anyone on the crew of a multi-camera show? See if they’ll get you on the floor during a filming night. There are always a few agents milling about. They’re the guys in nice suits hanging around the craft-services table. Texting.  Casually make their acquaintance.

Go to work in an agency mailroom.

Keep an eye out for Learning Annex, UCLA extension, and WGA classes and lectures.

Freeze your ass off at the Sundance film festival.

Date Aaron Sorkin.

Of course, connecting with an agent means nothing if you don’t have the goods. Most agencies want three writing samples – two current show specs and original material like a pilot, play, or screenplay. If you are lucky enough to have an agent consider your scripts, make sure they’re the very best work you’ve ever written. Sometimes you only get one chance.

Good luck. I know it’s hard but talented writers do find agents. You be one of them.

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Friday (the 13th) Questions

Despite my jet lag, here are this week’s Friday Questions. If the answers make no sense that’s why.

MikeK.Pa. wonders:

I've always contended that the order of importance for a successful movie is: 1) script; 2) casting; and 3) direction. Do you weight one factor over another or all equally? My contention is that if you have a great script and cast it right it's hard for the director to screw it up.

A bad director can absolutely kill a good project whereas a good director can sometimes enhance material, get superior performances and elevate a movie.

All three elements (cast, script, direction) are key. If there’s a weak link it can bring down the whole thing.

But if I had to pick one of the three that was most important, I would begrudgingly have to say casting. Audiences go to movies to see people they like on the screen. If it’s a star they love they will often forgive a sub-par script or sloppy direction. There’s a great Billy Wilder quote about Marilyn Monroe, whom he directed in two movies:

My Aunt Minnie would always be punctual and never hold up production, but who would pay to see my Aunt Minnie?

Wendy M. Grossman has a question about Cybil Shepherd, who I discussed a few weeks ago.

If Shepherd is horrible to work with *and* (as I agree) an acting stiff, how on earth does she keep getting work?

She doesn’t get much.  Not anymore.  A guest spot here and there. But the word is out. I guarantee you her agent or manager puts her up for lots of roles and is told, “Life’s too short.”

Meanwhile, a sweetie like Margo Martindale will be working steady as long as she wants.

From ScottyB:

Were there any secondary actors or characters on any of the sitcoms you were involved with that you thought shoulda-woulda-coulda been expanded and given more of a role as a series went on, and potentially making the show even better as it progressed season to season?

There were two and they were both from the same series. We did a Mary Tyler Moore comeback vehicle in 1985 and among our supporting cast members were Katey Sagal (who we sort of discovered) and John Astin. Both just lit up the screen and were hilarious.

We only did thirteen but the episodes where the main story featured either of them were far and away our best.

It’s a little tricky when you have a starring vehicle and that star owns the studio and the lot, but our plans were to slowly work Katey and John into roles of more prominence.

Brian Hennings asks:

Following your comment about THE CELL by Mark Legan and Mark Wilding, do you think it is worth writing something that is good but has no chance of being made as a way of obtaining recognition? Maybe an unusual subject matter helps a script cut through the noise of so many other scripts? Does the writing shine through, or do people in the industry discount it since the writer clearly doesn't understand the market?

Sure. Write something outlandish, BUT also write a pilot that is potentially saleable and a spec for an existing show.

The best you can hope for with a pilot that is clearly not mainstream is that a producer/agent/studio/whoever will be impressed and want to read more.

But if you want to use it as a lure, then sure. Just have the necessary back-ups.

Were any of those answers coherent? What’s your Friday Question?

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Conventional wisdom

Back in the days when there was a radio industry, there used to be radio conventions. These were put on by Billboard Magazine or Radio & Records and hundreds of program directors and air personalities would converge, usually at a hotel in Los Angeles or San Francisco, for four days of bullshit panels and schmoozing.

If you were in the hotel it was not hard to pick out who was part of the convention. Everybody pushed their voices down trying to impress everybody else. Forty buffoons at the bar, posturing, and trying to sound like Darth Vader. And of course everyone dressed in ratty jeans and leather jackets. Not a lot of fashion horses in radio. Remember, it’s an industry where no one sees you.

There were great hospitality suites, primarily sponsored by the record companies. Lots of booze, and I suspect for influential music directors, women.

Radio syndication firms also had hospitality suites. You could have a drink and listen to the AMERICAN TOP 40 demo. Needless to say, you could shoot cannons off in those suites. Casablanca Records had hookers and Drake/Chenault had demos for “Hit Parade 69.”

God knows what went on after the bars and hospitality suites closed. If Insurance Conventions are wild Bacchanals you can imagine what a radio convention must be like. Even the attendees who were single probably got laid.

The sad part of these conventions was all the out-of-work disc jockeys just meandering around the lobby. You could easily spot them. They had boxes of their audition tapes. One time I was standing with a program director, Chuck Browning, when one of these guys approached and handed him his tape. Chuck said, “So are you Side A or Side B?”

If PD’s are not going to listen to AT40 demos when they’re offered unlimited free tequila, they’re sure not going to spend their evening listening to you. On the other hand, long distance calls were expensive. Here in one place was everyone who could hire you. Why not give it a shot?

Happily, I was either employed or out of radio when I attended these conventions. And since radio people are spread all over the country and move more than Richard Kimble did as THE FUGITIVE, this was the one chance to see all your buds at one time in one place. The flip side of course, is that it was also a chance to come face-to-face with everybody who ever fired you. For me, that was everywhere I turned.

Eventually I got asked to be on panels and in one case deliver the keynote address. This of course, was after I became a full-time TV writer. I’ve always maintained that the only way I ever got respect in radio was to get out of it.

Most of these conventions have faded away. At one time they would fill the Century Plaza Hotel. There would be several floors of panels; every ballroom occupied and filled. Big name entertainment like Garth Brooks would perform. High priced motivational speakers like Rick Pitino would appear. The last radio convention I attended was in New York. It was a couple of rooms in the basement of some nondescript office building. There was one meeting room and a small reception area. That’s it. Instead of Steve Martin performing, they had Stephanie Miller. I forget the panel I was on. It might’ve been: “coping mechanisms for has-beens.” But it was very depressing; a reminder of a dying industry.

Are conventions really useful? You could make a case that they’re not. We live in such a global society now. Teleconferences can substitute for panel discussions. Airfare is expensive. Hospitality suites are not justified if attendance is low. But I think you miss something in not having the personal contact. You do learn things in conventions, and usually they’re at the bar, a suite, in the elevator, at the coffee shop. Panels are nice and they’re a good lure, but the real deals are going on behind-the-scenes. You don’t come there looking to be enlightened by the future steps your industry is taking. You go to bitch and hear how others have dealt with the same problems. Your goal is to come away with a better understanding of what you need to do, a renewed passion for your profession, and to not get caught.

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My thoughts on Sam Simon

You really learn about a guy when he’s in a foxhole with you. When the bullets are flying does he have your back?

In 1985 David Isaacs and I created a series for Mary Tyler Moore. For reasons I won’t go into here, it was a nightmare. We knew Sam Simon from our time on CHEERS. He graciously agreed to join the staff and help on this Mary project. As things went from bad to worse to the brink of thermonuclear war, Sam stood by us. Most of the other writers bolted. Not Sam. He steadfastly hung in there with us. Honestly, we could not have done it without Sam. For that and that alone I have always loved Sam Simon. He could do no wrong in my book.

Others did not feel that way. Again -- total honesty -- Sam could rub people the wrong way.  And he'd be the first to admit that. Social skills were not his strong suit. He had this knack, especially during rewrite nights, of pissing people off. But it was never intentional. And Sam was always apologetic and surprised the next day when it was brought to his attention.

He was always the smartest and funniest person in the room (which he had to be considering his interactions with people).

Part of the problem, I think, is that things came very easily for Sam. They always did. He was blessed with extraordinary talent – in numerous areas. He dabbled with cartooning and sold a comic strip to King Syndicate. That’s impossible. He wrote a spec script for TAXI and they bought it. That’s beyond impossible. He was hired on TAXI and rose quickly to become quite possibly the youngest showrunner in history. In his spare time he wrote a screenplay – that got made. As another sidelight he became an accomplished sitcom director.

He was the true voice of THE SIMPSONS (and he helped designed several characters). There is no joy in Springfield tonight.

So I could see where it might have been difficult to process that the rest of us couldn’t keep up. Such is the price of brilliance and being oblivious.

Sam was certainly uh… colorful. For reasons known only to him, he went through a period where he walked around with his chin tucked into his shoulder. He managed boxers. There was a night when commentator Larry Merchant chewed him out live on HBO for celebrating too loud after his boxer had won. (That was surreal.)  He was a regular contributor to Howard Stern’s show. He created a series for George Carlin. There was a 60 MINUTES profile on him. He played high-stakes poker. He played football at Stanford.

And his love of animals and their protection was genuine and deep rooted.

I worked with Sam on seven series and pilots. He attended family seders, special occasions, and he spoke at my SITCOM ROOM seminar (telling students that sitcoms were dead – thanks for that). He had a wicked sense of humor, even during his recent suffering. A few months ago, when PBS aired the Roger Ebert documentary he was tweeting “get to the cancer already.”

I will miss his humor, friendship, tweets, and (most of all) his loyalty. Sam Simon was a remarkable person. I am blessed that he was in my life. We are all blessed that his contributions to humanity will continue for years and maybe generations to come. I still can’t believe he managed prize fighters.

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My worst home run call EVER

With Spring Training underway, I thought I would share my world home run call.  Even if you're not a baseball fan, if you are a fan of me making an ass of myself, you should enjoy this.

It was my first year in the majors, with Baltimore. Now that I was in the “bigs” I figured I needed a signature home run call. So I came up “Ladies and gentlemen, Elvis has left the building!” I did it a couple of times the first week and it seemed to go well. Week two we were in Milwaukee. Late in the game. An Oriole swings and this is my home run call:

“Long drive to deep right. Yount goes back and ladies and gentlemen, Elvis is…off the top of the wall.”

My partner, the great Jon Miller, just put his head down on the console. I’m sure he was wondering “how did they ever hire THIS idiot?”

I wrote a book about my year in Baltimore and called it “It’s Gone!…No, wait a minute!” which unfortunately was my signature home run call in the minors. Often times in those bandbox ballparks with triple deck signage (most of it white and touting such prestigious concerns as “Rent-a-Wreck and Melman’s Mortuary) and bad lighting it was next to impossible to accurately call home runs. If the ball cleared the first level it was gone, below it was still in play. Even the players and umpires didn’t know half the time. I started playing it safe by saying “there’s a long drive to deep left field, it’s high, it’s deep, it’s time for station identification!” Fifteen seconds later when I was back I knew the outcome…usually.

One time doing a game in Rochester, there was a long drive to the wall. The outfielder leaped for it. I said, “He makes the catch!” My partner, Dan Hoard (now he voice of the Cincinnati Bengals and Bearcats) shook his head no and started twirling his finger. That’s the home run signal, but he didn’t know that. He thought he was signaling that the ball was still in the play and the runners were circling. So this was my call: “He makes the catch. No, wait, it’s a home run. No, wait, it’s a double.” This time I banged my head on the console.

Happy to say I did much better in the majors although to play it safe my home run call was and still remains “It’s Gone, I hope to God!”

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Sam Simon

So sorry to hear of Sam's passing, although we all knew it was coming.  I am currently in Tokyo with very limited internet access.  Will post my thoughts on Sam later in the week but wanted to acknowledge my deep sadness, great admiration, and great affection for the man. 

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