This Savage Art

Never underestimate the power of shameless opportunistic palm pressing.

The IFP Script To Screen Conference weekend two weeks ago started out dismally. I kept asking myself “Am I really at another one of these things?” It was all wrong. A couple of hundred wannabe writer/directors sitting, stumbling through a stifling room with no ventilation about to be told that it sucks out there to get a film made. Oh joy! I had to bail out of the second  panel, I was choking on the air it was so thick with desperation and duct filth. All is not lost though.

I got lucky. No not that way. As long as I’ve been going to these conferences/panels/punches in the arm I tend to walk away with something. Some piece of information that I didn’t know before or some pep talk that gets me inspired all over again. I mean, after all, that is why I went – to get back in the game after a year of sitting on the bench taking care of my boy. It paid off. Maybe.

I happened to come in contact with a producer, who shall remain nameless, who wants to read the Dyre Avenue screenplay. You know his body of work and he’s the right guy for the job too. After a couple of weeks passed by I had given up on getting a reply to the e-mail I sent him but yesterday he contacted me with the agency, agent’s name, number and assistant’s name. So there it is.

The plan, I take another full on pass then it goes out into the ether. I haven’t touched Dyre Avenue in a while and I need to get reacquainted. The window is small. You want to stay fresh in their minds before they move on to something else. I am realistic about how this can and cannot go. It’s something that comes with age. You do the work and what’s out of your hands is just that. But still…

The. Time. Is. Now.

I’ll let you know how it goes.