
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
OLD YEAR'S RESOLUTIONS

Saturday, December 26, 2009
'TWAS THE DAY AFTER CHRISTMAS
‘Twas the day after Christmas, and all through the house
All the fam’ly was sleeping, yes, even my spouse.
The stockings were tossed by the chimney with flair
Some turned inside out, to make sure nothing’s there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
Nintendo DSes tucked under their heads;
And I in my bathrobe, MacBook on my lap,
Was happy to know there were no gifts to wrap.
When out from the kitchen there rose such a clatter,
I sprang from the couch to see what was the matter.
I waded my way ‘cross a floor filled with trash
To a kitchen heaped high from our Christmas Eve bash.
The sun through the window, it gave quite a glow:
(Los Angeles Christmas: We never have snow),
It shone on the remains of the Christmas day cheer,
The leftover cheese ball, the dregs of the beer.
The un-put-away brownies as hard as a fossil,
And o’er on the stove, it shone down on the wassail.
I blinked as the sun blasted straight to my eye
And just in time glimpsed a brown streak passing by.
Four-footed and furry and dragging a ham,
Dodging around me and trying to scram.
And as he ran off with a peppermint cluster
I knew in a moment, it was my dog Buster.
More rapid than eagles he streaked ‘cross the floor
Buster grabbed what he wanted, and came back for more:
More cheesecake, more truffles, more bagels and lox,
More chocolate chip cookies, more scotch on the rocks.
He smashed and he scrambled, bumped into the wall,
Then dashed away, dashed away, dashed away all.
“I should have cleaned up when the guests said good-bye,”
I moaned to myself with a pretty big sigh.
After two days of feasting, the kitchen looked grubby
I scrounged in the sink, tried to dig up the scrubby--
I searched quite in vain for a halfway clean towel
When out from the living room came quite a howl.
I set down the saucepan all caked thick with goo,
The glaze for the ham which had now turned to glue.
I skipped to the living room, limber of foot
And inched past the fireplace, dripping with soot.
Unraveling ribbons clung fast to my shin
As I looked round the post-Christmas scene with chagrin.
A mountain of presents all covered the floor
They looked so appealing when bought at the store.
Now gift wrap was ripped and the tissue was crumpled,
The new shoes abandoned, the new tank tops rumpled.
I picked my way round all the presents caloric,
The baskets of chocolate to make me euphoric,
Strange foods so exotic that no one would try it
(And don’t my friends know, New Year’s Day starts the diet?)
And just then I heard from the top of the spruce
The pitiful cry of a dog on the loose
I lifted my eyes from amidst the debris --
Old Buster had climbed to the top of the tree.
The angel crashed down as the Christmas tree swayed,
The ornaments flew in a sparkling cascade--
The puppy leapt on me, I felt his claws rip,
And then right behind, the tree started to tip--
The lights all exploded as down the tree crashed--
The pine needles shredded, the presents were smashed--
And I said as I landed on top of the pup,
“Happy Christmas to all-- Someone else can clean up!”
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
A (DOWNSIZED) MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL!
Was singing! Without any presents at all!
He HADN'T stopped Christmas from coming!
IT CAME!
Somehow or other, it came just the same!
And the Grinch, with his grinch-feet ice-cold in the snow,
Stood puzzling and puzzling: "How could it be so?
It came without ribbons! It came without tags!
"It came without packages, boxes or bags!"
And he puzzled three hours, `till his puzzler was sore.
Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before!
"Maybe Christmas," he thought, "doesn't come from a store.
"Maybe Christmas...perhaps...means a little bit more!"
Thursday, December 03, 2009
APPARENTLY BATMAN IS FOREVER...

It's been a loooong time since we were involved in the world of Batman... but it seems that world never leaves you.
Tuesday, December 01, 2009
HOW DOES A WRITER GET PAID?
I was approached for advice and information recently by an aspiring writer visiting Hollywood to get the lay of the land. He particularly wanted to know how "writers' fees," as he put it, work out here.

A writer's track record at the box office only affects his quote tangentially -- i.e., after a hit, his agent/manager can demand a big bump up in his quote. But given that a writer has probably written several projects since he wrote the one that produced the big box office, his quote is somewhat independent.
There are (rare) times when a "normal" 2-draft deal goes south and the producer abandons the project (or the writer) after the first draft -- in this case, the producer must pay for the 2nd draft even though the writer never writes it; this is called a "pay-or-play" deal, and it is increasingly rare (though I have enjoyed "pay-or-play" a couple of times)... If a writer walks away from a 2-draft deal after the first draft (something I've also done), then the writer and producer typically agree to forego the 2nd draft payments.
(a) The writer generally gets taken advantage of. Sometimes very badly. (And if you are writing in the Christian-parallel-universe world of entertainment, do not expect that people deal more fairly and honestly there. If anything, writers are taken advantage of more badly in that world than in the mainstream studio world.)
(b) Credit is as important to negotiate as money. Again, writers are at the mercy of producers who will take credit for themselves, give it to investors, etc. Lock in your credit as much as you can. (In the WGA world, credit is determined by arbitration per the MBA, which I hope you have downloaded and read by now).
(c) Never never never negotiate your own deal. Never even discuss compensation with a producer. If you don't have an agent or manager, get an attorney who will handle the negotiations.
