Tuesday, April 10, 2007

Getting an Agent

Here is the key to getting an agent:

STOP TRYING TO GET AN AGENT.


SPEND THAT TIME AND ENERGY ...
WRITING!!!

Since any more explanation is not only unnecessary, but will invariably get you thinking about this imaginary world, in which agents are magical fairy creatures that can materialize jobs out of thin air, I am not going to write about getting an agent.

Instead, I am going to tell you a story.

THE RICHES is shot in a studio in Santa Clarita. Santa Clarita Studios to be exact. Imagine that. The stages lie at the bottom of a hill. But at the top of that hill is where the producers and writers reside (at least for the interim of the season).

This too, is where I find my happy little home.

Believe it or not, but this kingdom on the hill runs perfectly without any input at all from me. I know! Unbelievable. I find most of my time is best spent reorganizing the goodies in the snack room. Restocking. And cleaning out the fridge. Primarily anything I can do to be helpful, but stay out of the way.

One day a new show joined us on top of the hill. A show called DRIVE. They rented the office space next door. And built a make believe convenience store, called Preston's ... right into the back of our office building. Right where our parking use to be.

Not a peep was heard from anyone at THE RICHES. We are a friendly bunch.

But due to the, now, strange layout of the building, people from DRIVE were often seen roaming the halls. This became commonplace. And luckily the people involved with DRIVE reciprocated our friendliness.

The weeks went by. And there I was ... with not much to do. So I took it upon myself to empty out the fridge of a week's worth of take-out that still managed to look edible despite the contrary smell.

As I walked into the snack room, what should I see, but a small little man in nice shoes and a wrinkled sport coat. He was filling his pockets with candy and gum galore. A forty year old kid in a candy store.

My presence didn't seem to dissuade him from his pillaging. A few more chocolates and his pockets were overflowing. He popped a piece of gum into his mouth and chewed rather vigorously.

I returned to my desk. The small man strutted into the room and asked Ralph a question. (Ralph is the main man. He is the assistant to the producer and anyone that wants to talk to anyone in our building atop the hill must first go through Ralph. He is the gatekeeper. And a chill laid-back one at that).

This strange little man in his nice shoes and wrinkled sports coat, smacked on his gum and asked, "I was just visiting a client from DRIVE. Do Dawn and Nicole work here?"

For those of you that don't know ... Dawn and Nicole are the showrunners of THE RICHES. And very happily represented writers at ICM.

Ralph replied, "I think they are upstairs. May I help you?"
"Nah. That's all right. I'll just go on up and ask them myself."
To which I replied, "I 'd be happy to check and see if they are available."
"Sure thing."

The small man shoved his hands in his pockets spilling a few pieces of candy. He paced around the room in what would appear frantic for most, but seemed to simply be the man's natural state.

I relayed the message to Dawn and Nicole's assistant, who promptly responded, "Who?"
Then I relayed the message to Dawn and Nicole, who promptly responded, "Who?"

When I came back downstairs I informed that, yes, in fact, Dawn and Nicole were upstairs. To which he proceeded to climb the stairs for an impromptu meeting with them.

They were gracious. Inviting the small man into their realm, where they were otherwise busy with a grueling day's work. They listened to his pitch, but ultimately Dawn and Nicole really did like their present representation and saw no reason to switch.

So the small man headed downstairs. Even in defeat, there was an eerie gleam of triumph in his eyes. He made his exit in much the same way he entered. A wrecking ball of energy. No sooner arrived, than vanished.

But his mark had been left.

Take from this story what you will. But rest assured that given enough hard work, perseverance, and practice honing your craft, and yes, even you may have a small, creepy man pursuing you.

1 comment:

just me said...

i always have small creepy men pursuing me.

sometimes they even scream at me. Espescially on the corner of 1st and 7th. That small creepy man really likes to yell. In all types of weather.


does that mean I've made it? Or just a magnet for New York's finest insanies?