Contributor: Ryan Priest
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For about twenty-five hours I was a writer. A real writer. Well screenwriter at least. Not exactly a novelist or poet but a paid man of words nonetheless. Thank god for the internet or I might have labored under this false belief for longer. Twenty five hours, sixty minutes over a day was as long as it took for the entire charade to play itself out.
You don't realize how long five years is until a five year wait ends and sitting in your inbox is a letter from some guy. He calls himself a producer, says he loves your script. And you read, reserving judgment because anybody could be anybody in this business. It might be a thirteen year old boy at the other end of the keyboard.
So I'm a killjoy. I convinced myself that there'd be no pay. There seldom is for someone's first project. The movie might suck. He...
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Author:
Ryan Priest