Don't let your ego get in the way of your paycheck.

The art equivalent of blood in the water is deciding the official credits for any project. Credits, not cash, are the lifeblood of the industry. Anyone with a producer title, whether it be assistant or executive, has a career that can be interpreted as ascending. Same as anyone that officially gets listed as a staff writer, consultant, etc etc. It's verifies the nature of your work. Not only are you good enough to move ahead of half these schmucks, you're SO good (or connected) that we're going to let the world know via a credit. What else do credits mean?

Royalties.

Ahh - the dirty little secret in hollywood. Fuck your pay, what you REALLY want is the royalties, because when you have royalties, its like a christmas present in the mail every month that supports your addiction to cocaine, blondes with figures that run silky smooth like coca cola bottles, and exotic foreign cars that people never drive.

So first lesson: Always get a credit.

Second lesson. It will be impossible to get a credit unless its in your contract, you're a shrewd negotiator, you saved the producers life, or the producer personally brought you on the project. You see, a thousand other people will work on that writing staff and will want their contributions to be noticed, and the day the director comes in and says I've been talking to THIS GUY and he's got some good ideas too, lets give him some credits.

You're not going to get that credit. Welcome to the suck.

Don't believe me? Well you don't have too. It's happened to me though. One of the first people I ever connected too was Scott Brown, a writer/director out of USC. He was a nice enough guy, posted status updates about the right things on FB and had a solid reel. This is someone I should KNOW I thought to myself. I pitched him a little idea I had brewing in my head, a cross country project between people at USC, NYU, and Grand Valley State University (the college I was attending at the time) The show? A story about a public access news station called Critical Information. Scott liked the pilot enough (Disclaimer: He was far too kind, the pilot was, and still is, shit.)

Funny side story: Scott thought I lived in Minnesota until I met him in LA - He also said 'the only reason I'm working with you is because you're not from LA' Proving that Scotts much smarter than I when it comes to entertainment, maybe I'll have him write a rebuttal to this column.

Critical Information didn't get the proper instituational support, it was mismanaged (by me, mostly) and overall didn't fulfill the high expectations I had of it, mostly sweet misguided daydreams of a fantastic P and A campaign and random girls at the bar saying YOU CREATED THAT will promising to give me the three way of my life.

Needless to say, Not much came out of CI aside from the networking I did, and it was beneficial to say the least. Flash forward to last summer when I moved to Los Angeles to intern at Lionsgate studios. Scott was kicking around an idea called 'Making Bank' about four slackers who graduate from college and find the job market, slim to say the least, and decide to take control of their lives by, what else, robbing a bank. He agreed to let me come on as a consulting producer and a staff writer, not a shabby deal to be growing a future relationship with a guy I really looked up too.

This proves three things. One - Scott's a fucking good writer. Two - Scott's a really good friend. Three - Scott was a dumb shit for giving me a title without clearing it with his other writers.

What? he's the director! you say. Well yes, he is. he created and oversaw the project. But here's the kicker, we were all working for free. You give a shit what your writers say when they leave and you have to find 'FREE' replacements who are just as good. Remember earlier, credits are the life blood of the entertainment world. IF you're not garnering a paycheck that motherfucker better give you a job title of your choice. Or a place on his bar tab.

Well the writers on Making Bank weren't too pleased I was coming aboard. They've bee working with Scott for a few years and now this stupid fucking kid who moved out for the summer, who they didn't even KNOW and didn't have enough credits worth SHIT was garnering the same job titles as them? Potentially taking away a written by credit and being a consulting producer? This shit wasn't going to fly, and Although I wasn't there for that meeting, it's plain to see - They told him - them or us.

And here's the delimma. I was an unknown from chicago. they were his main collaborators from USC. I was a solid writer, but I wasn't good. Who's he going to choose ladies and gentlemen? Yes, you in the back...That's right. Not me. compounding the issue was Scott sent me the IM while i was at my internship (Everyone chats via AIM or Yahoo). The first message, 'Dave you're gonna think I'm an asshole, but I can't give you a writing credit.' My response: Me saying out loud. What the fuck you piece of shit.

I may have overreacted. Maybe I didn't.

I certainly don't fault Scott for his choice, and if he could of done it again, if he had a little stronger hold on the project, he probably would of told them to fucking deal with it, he was in charge. Not because I was that good, but to remind everyone HE was in charge.

So what did I do? I told Scott to go fuck himself. I didn't talk to him for a week. But then I had a shit week at Lionsgate. I sat at home thinking, Fuck man, What do I got? Then I remembered Scott taking time out of his schedule to help me with Critical Information. Was a title (I was still consulting producer) worth throwing a friendship away? Was it worth throwing away a FUTURE GUY who I wished would hire me?

I called him up. My first line. Scott your a fucking asshole, and you made a dick move, but that's not going to change our friendship. Me him, and our friend Alex Garcia went our for mexican food near USC, and guess what, he picked up the tab.

My first business lunch. We'll, my fifth - but we'll let Scott think it was my first.

Needless to say, I had an ego, a large one, big enough to fill a pilgrim ship and sail for a new world. But I didn't. It wasn't worth it. So how did it pay off?

I was Executive Producer on Scott's new web series, the critically acclaimed 'Blue Movies'. I personally put him in touch with one of his producers, and I put him in touch with the financing company. What did I get out of this? A CREDIT. so life blood, for starters. Also I got to keep a pretty good friend who remembers I'm from Michigan now and helps me out with a project much bigger than Making Bank (With a lot more explosions at least). The point. Don't let your ego get in the way of your future paycheck. You're gonna get fucked, some on purpose, some because it isn't your time yet, and some because of reasons beyond that person's control.

Just don't fuck yourself, because that's the worst way of getting fucked.

How to talk to your family or how parents just don't understand.

I went through what most others would consider an emotional roller coaster with my parents this week. I consider it pretty standard. Here's the ride (Hold on!) My parents asked me if I was gay, they told me randomly decided to visit me in chicago, to which I'm not sure the first and second point are related are not - they visited, to which I - in my infinite wisdom, had accidentally left a condom on my dresser - The conversation went from if I was gay to how dare I have premaritial sex. In other words, it could of been worse.

And here we are ladies and gentlemen. Stuck in this infinite abyss we call careerdom, holding all sorts of cards our parents never envisioned. By the time my parents we're twenty five they moved to the town they'd spend the next 20 years of their life, they had my oldest brother, and my dad held the job he'd hold for over 20 years. In other words, three of the four biggest things you decide in life (the forth being religion) had be settled. There wasn't any planning. the planning was done, packed up in the moving trucks and heading towards the next batch of newly minted honeymooners, happy after discovering three magical gifts of marriage - newlywed swag, abolishment of a curfew, and the magical 'O' (Consult your physician if you hadn't had one of those in a while, or craigslist.)

So where am I at twenty five? I'll assume you're up to speed with my love life so no spouse. Living in chicago until I move to Los Angeles, so little enviromental stability. I work in film, so they'll never be job stability, and although I am open minded I'm more religious than not, in a spiritual sense, not the organizational sense - so I'm batting 1 for 4 in the big choices in life (I guess I don't have any kids out there I know about). What does this say about relating to your elders?

When I was thirteen, the biggest issue my parents had with me was my defiance in wearing my ball cap to church. Now they're worried I'm gay, randomly fucking, or both. Relatability was 200 miles back in Grand Rapids. In the words of Jason Bourne to my parents 'You're son's off the fucking grid.'

And isn't this the issue at the core of every family dynamic? Relatbility. Its not the small things we struggle with, its the fucking BIG life choices I make. As I told them what's new in my life during lunch today - we steered away from three topics. Religion (They're scared I might not be as Godly as they hope) Girls (Fuck if they can't even decide what GENDER I'm teeing off against) and that giant fucking yellow condom just sitting there, causing angst, not even being used by finding some small way to fuck me anyways.

I did see, for the first time in three years, real pride that they felt about me. I did see them making an effort. I mean, for all my parents faults, and there are a few, the worst thing that happened to them was being stuck with ME, I mean, I'm a fucking dick, and they handle me like a trooper, as well as you'd ever expect conservative white parents to handle their off the rocker adolescent 25 year old son.

What was the relatability that changed everything? Maybe the key was they stopped trying how my life was going to turn out. The rest of my siblings ended up completely average, and they predicted that pretty well. Why try changing the black sheep to white if it's just gonna not turn out CREME white? I suppose we can love black sheep too...

But understanding that you don't match up with your elder parents and siblings doesn't neccessarily mean thats a BAD thing, its a choice of individuality, for better or worse. I'm the only one of my siblings not to have kids or a spouse. I'm the first to NOT drop out of college, and I'm the first to pursue a career in the entertainment industry. That doesn't make me better. That makes me different. Just because my parents can't understand how to love me doesn't mean they don't love me, mostly.

So if you're parents feud with you, remember this sage advice from rapper Will Smith

"Parent's just don't understand."

You're fucking right there, Will. Tell me something I DON'T know.

Five People I've Learned the Most From

If I had to make a list of the five people who's taught me the most in my career so far, It'd read like this

Frank Demartini - Producer.

Jeanine Orci - Writer/Actress.

Bonni Allen - Casting Director/Producer

Jeff Bushell - Writer

Jay Kogen - Writer/Producer.


Can't do much better than this list.

Most Embarrassing conversations ever AKA welcome to modern romance.

gee - We haven't talked in a while, but I feel comfortable completely going out on a limb and saying I'm interested in you. Since I work in movies I have to plan out my life in advance which means we don't get that cute awkward - lets randomly hang out stage. Maybe the best stage since somewhere in between dates 3 and 9 a couple of people are getting luckyyyyy.

Anyways. Working in film normally means if you're not married by now, if you date in the industry odds are pretty high two words are in your near future. Set hook ups (GOOD!) and Divorce (PRICEY!) so take from that what you will. Personally I've never been involved in people in entertainment, although thats slowly changing. My last three romantic interests were - follow along, a Radiologist, A nurse, and a Dentist.

Obviously the medical field isn't my thing so I'm moving on, and part of growing up is learning that people you knew back in college, who you get in touch with again are MUCH better than you remember them. Well some, the distant ones you didn't get drunk with enough and get shot down by. Herein - my situation.

Its a simple situation of interest and not so much love, or like in this case. I find (Name withheld for hopeful dating potential) attractive, smart, funny, and pretty grounded. Which is good because she has at least four traits there that I don't have. Also she writes, works, and occassionally laughs at my jokes. She answers my stupid questions with not so stupid answers and I find said answers cute. These examples don't cry out, man, ditch the career, get to (City withheld, but I'm sure you can guess it) and tell her how you FEEL. We'll the first thing is I don't know how I FEEL. its been a while since we hung out, although that shouldn't be taken as a negative, and two, any conversation inherently goes into the planning stage, which I hate, I'm pretty sure she hates, and my mom would love, which means I hate it.

Editors note (Dear name withheld girl, if you're reading this, please A - trust in God that I'm a better writer than I'm showing here, and B - don't jump the shark in regards to interest. Consider my like to be like the Jonas Brothers, mass produced, marketed, and totally blown out of proportion).

Sound familiar? Welcome to Modern Romance. Where we choose our careers before our spouse and our spouse is supposed to COMPLEMENT our career. There's something unnerving about that, should I find a nice box of chocolates to go with my dozen white roses of a job? Luckily - regardless of what happens with my future love life, I haven't done that here. She's funny and interesting to talk to - bonus, especially being a writer - and I'm not rushing out to buy a ring - negative, impulse blog readers who demand a happy ending.

So where does it stand? When I go home (IF, more than when) I'll take her out for a delicious night of ice cream and chatting. Ice cream, because its delicious, and talking, because its a welcome relief to here about someone talk about stuff that doesn't involve budgets, blowjobs, San Diego, Producing above the line, or rewrites.

In the end Romance isn't really a choice. I don't have a clue what will happen, and that's not to say I EXPECT something to happen. Of course part of me wants it. Whenever you say (or type) the words you're cute, i'm interested in you, or 'I want to hold you hand' or ' I love your smile' you want that person to feel the same way, and if they do, you want it to progress. But that's not always what happens. I don't know what tomorrow brings let alone next month, and I don't expect someone to plan that far ahead. I just expect someone, when they feel it, to like me for me. And luckily whoever likes me will understand love more from a Stevie Wonder type of love song and less a Miley Cyrus type of love song.

After all it shouldn't be that hard, right?

Right?


Fuck....

My first real conference call

Two things about Hollywood - It's easy to critique it when I'm in Chicago, Illinois and pretend I can make a difference. The truth of the matter is I'm more qualified than fucking most to know about hollywood, and I don't know shit. Case in point - today was my first real conference call between two legit properties (One which will be revealed in Variety next week) and a real distibution company that was looking for real A list talent (AND FUCK THIS HAD IT)!!!!!!!!

Needless to say I woke up at 8 AM despite the con call being at 4:30 my time. I did writing on my super secret script which is quickly becoming people are calling me and asking me if I indeed wrote it (Which I did) and worrying someone's gonna steal it. But not this deal baby, I brokered it with all my producing skills (Three fucking emails, a beer, and a phone call) and then I made some lunch, and fucking sat around all day, dreaming of my finders fee since it has a pretty high fucking budget.

The con call comes around and I check in first (naturally) a whole 2 minutes early. I sit listening to shitty easy flow music while staring at my dick, saying, 'Look alive baby!' thinking, shit if my dick cant even get a grip on itself what the fuck am I supposed to do? And six minutes later everyone was on the con call. They began the slow seductive baptism into the fucking hollywood fire I like to call 'NEGOTIATION'.

First thing the guy said is we don't deal with liquid equity. Which is a smart way of describing a particular investment I do not know what the fuck about. Thirty seconds in, and I'm playing in the world series when I should be stuck in teeball. For the next 12 minute I listened to the most impressive deal breaking memorandum I've ever heard in my life. I'm pretty sure atomic molecules were murdered interacting with that blood bath. He agreed to send the package to him and they'd talk again in six weeks. You know what I said the entire conversation?

Hey (Blank) this is (Blank) with (BLANK) Project.

Then i shut the fuck up.


Ohhh that baptism burns hot. 13 minutes to learn I'm not even remotely shaped to deal with Hollywood. I called my friend at CAA who works as someone's assistant and he laughed at me, saying, shit man, I had 3 phone calls like that today. Probably why he'll be successful and I won't.

13 minutes and my entire existence, my sphere of understanding was so completely flipped around if cops would come interrogate me I might confess to terrorist activity. Why? Because much like me, they have no idea what the fuck they're doing. (The terrorists, not the producers).

Look - the first thing in rehab is to admit you don't know how to solve your problem. But you can't do that in hollywood. I can't set up a meeting and say 'geez I really don't know what the fuck I'm doing, please fuck me in the ass'. They probably will, and I'll probably end up paying. Literally and figurtively.

Maybe thats the lesson in hollywood. Don't get fucked in the ass. What, Koepp's REWRITING my SCRIPT? Ah shit I've just been fucked in the ass? What you verbally promised me a co=producer spot but you gave me ASSOCIATE PRODUCER because its CHEAPER? I've just been fucked in the ass? What International Star didn't like how the dog died in the end of the movie? But you told me fucking kill BENJI! And so on and so forth.

Is this not making sense?

Welcome to FUCKING HOLLYWOOD. Now don't get fucked in the ass.

Opening day

So
The main question I always get is what am I doing and Who am I. I'm certain in saying a lot of people know me, some even famous, but hardly anyone KNOWS me. So I figure the best way to know a person is through their words, no matter how good or bad it is. I'll keep you updated on what projects I'm writing and producing, amusing ancedotes from the business, and embarrassing old stories involving me and sex in high school. I'll try to post at least twice a week. I doubt more than 13 people will read this - in their lifetime. So i'm not worried about getting sued yet.

oh here's a good hint on the future project I'm working on - UPDATE - better not post that yet.