Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Screenwriting Dream Reported Stolen

Horrible, devastating news: Kristen Wiig’s Bridesmaids premiered at the SXSW Film Festival a few weeks ago, and from what I can tell, the reviews are mostly positive.  The film is being touted as “the female version of The Hangover” and “the first genuine female comedy.”

Um, no, actually, I wrote a genuine female comedy three years ago.  And adding salt to the wound, it was full of irreverent wedding humor.  Blerg!  This should've been my moment!  It just goes to show that if you never give up, someone will eventually achieve your goals.  I just wish it had been me.

I was warned that this might happen.  To quote my screenwriting teacher, “If you write a script that is even remotely mainstream, you can count on someone else coming up with the same premise, and that someone might have better connections.”  As an unproduced screenwriter, it’s safer to go with a truly bizarre premise that no one else would ever think of.  For example, "a depressed man believes that his beaver puppet is real" – now starring Mel Gibson!  But wait, that plot sounds remarkably similar to the plot of Lars and the Real Girl.  Okay, so there are no new ideas, only slightly less common ones.

In related news, I learned that the big-shot studio executive who I met with in October is now working for a different company.  Apparently, he switched jobs shortly after meeting me, which means that he probably never received my follow-up email.  Now that I have his new work address, I’m toying with the idea of sending him this letter...

Dear Mr. Studio Executive,

I am writing to bring your attention to a tragic oversight.  Last October, I pitched you my very funny anti-wedding comedy, and you loved it!  Boy, did you love it!  You could hardly contain your excitement.  You said that I could very well be the next Diablo Cody and that you desperately wanted to follow-up with me.  Your intentions could not have been clearer.  You used the word “definitely” not once, but twice!

Unfortunately, you then switched jobs (congrats, by the way) and in all the chaos, I suspect that you misplaced my contact information.  No doubt, you’ve been cursing yourself ever since and have been trying in vain to track me down.  I can just imagine you seething with frustration and berating your assistant, “That tall blonde girl – the funny one with the great ideas – you have to find her! ... I don’t care how!  Knock on random doors if you have to!”

Well, call off the search.  Here I am, ready and willing to send over my script.  I’m not going to lie, it’s been a difficult six months.  My optimism was starting to wane.  Before I heard about your ill-timed job switch, I was almost convinced that you were blowing me off.  Lucky for you, I’ve decided not to hold a grudge.  Everyone makes mistakes.  So let’s put this little mishap behind us and get on with my six-figure development deal.


If the letter thing doesn't work out, I'm afraid it might be time to move on.  So many impractical dreams, so little time...


  1. Send that letter to him for real!!!!

  2. I'm going to second Jackie's suggestion -- go ahead and send the letter. What's the worst thing that could happen? But on the other hand, he might think that you're a comic genius after reading the letter...

  3. Did you send it? I really hope you did. It's really funny. How could you not respond to that???