Writing for the Screen? It’s a Joke

It was during a chance encounter at breakfast in a coffee shop that Buzz came to realize the insecurity of some unproduced screenwriters.

After introductions, when the conversation reached the inevitable “So what kind of work do you do?” phase, one person balked. He was unsure of calling himself a screenwriter because he hadn’t sold a script.

It made us wonder--when does someone feel secure enough to call him or herself a screenwriter? Buzz polled some, and got these responses:

When you get paid anything at all.

When it’s listed as your profession on your IRS form.

When you can get a table at Morton’s.

When you lose all pretension to being an artist and agree to make any changes requested by some money-hungry producer who probably hasn’t read your script at all.

When you get an agent.

When your agent starts being nice to you.

When you start living off residuals.

When you stop taking classes and reading books on how to write a screenplay.

When you become obsessed with looking for cheap copier places.

When your partner steals your idea.

When you get back together with your partner.

When you give up registering scripts at the Writers Guild and go straight to arbitration.

When you stop writing scripts and start having development meetings. (Real screenwriters pitch, only the wanna-bes actually write.)

When you start saying, “actually I’m a novelist” and plan to move away in six months, severing all connections with Hollywood.

When you realize you have enough time to read the newspaper, Variety, the Hollywood Reporter and the Racing Form every morning.

When Mike Ovitz sends his foot soldiers down Wilshire Boulevard looking for you.

Party for the Big Kids

If you aren’t invited to Elizabeth Taylor’s 60th birthday party Thursday at Disneyland don’t feel bad--neither was your Buzz staff (nor any journalist except Liz Smith). We did, however, get a peek at the invitation.

It features a border with photos of the star alternating with photos of Mickey Mouse (another enduring legend who, it might be noted, is even older than the birthday girl).

The invitation says that the dress code is “tres casual,” but what really got our attention was the fact that kids are unwelcome. “Adult Children Only, Please” it says, which raised a lot of questions in our minds.

Will this be the first night in Disneyland history without a single child in the whole park? Will Michael Jackson’s escort be of voting age for a change? If Macaulay Culkin should show up, will he be strong-armed by Mickey’s and Liz’s security forces?