One question in particular about the #WGAStrike that a bunch of family and friends who are totally disconnected from the entertainment industry have asked about recently that I thought I should address here in a quick thread.
It actually has more layers to it than you'd think.
My parents specifically ask about a few of my closest friends out here often, some of whom are execs at studios. And they've both wondered, with some amount of worry:
"Are you still going to be friends with (enter exec here) and be able to work together once the strike is over?"
My answer, of course, is, "Yes, absolutely. They are employed by the studios. But they're NOT the studios."
Which is a complicated thing to suss out without some explanation. And, thus, very reasonable for them to ask, even if it's silly to me.
But I want to dig a bit deeper:
Most execs at most studios are as close to working through a gig economy as writers are. Some are already in the grinder. Some are already discarded mill grist.
So many of them labor under the fear of their next greenlight, their next decision, their last note being THE last.
Part of the reason for this?
Being an exec at a studio, so often, is not even What Have You Done For Me Lately as much as it is Wait How Do You Still Work Here.
Some execs are bulletproof for various reasons. Some are amazingly talented.
Most are just hanging on. Talent or no.
What that's contributed to?
A culture of Safety First. And I'm not talking ethics and practices. I'm talking about How Do I Justify This If It Goes To Shit.
Sequels. Remakes. Reboots. Spinoffs. IP gobbling. What has worked before MUST work again. Right?
I'm not even sure most believe that. Honestly.
What's needed is so often less a hit and more a prepackaged excuse in case of a bomb.
Execs have to answer to studio heads who have to answer to CEOs who have to answer to stockholders.
They need Kevlar.
"Hey, look, don't blame me! (INSERT KNOWN IP HERE) worked last time, and we busted our ass to make this one even better!"
Do you know how dead inside a lot of these people - so many who got into this business just because they wanted to make awesome movies - feel living THERE?
It's so much easier to help develop a known entity that clunks than bang the table for something amazing that you truly believe in that clunks.
As writers, we've watched this happen to *countless* execs over our careers. And we feel it.
Because we've watched it happen to us.
Not every exec is onboard with the Strike. Not every exec is a good friend, or a helpful acquaintance, or even someone you want to settle for as a professional colleague.
And very few of them can speak out in the way they'd prefer these days.
We're ALL hanging on to careers.
And to be clear, this isn't a fawning, twee Pity The Poor Studio Plebes plea.
It's merely a recognition that most of them LIKE working with writers. Most are ON our side. Most WANT to see us thrive. Because that means they thrive too!
Mostly it's about:
If this industry tips over to being *purely* corporate and economic and about "content", and can't find room for art and love and creativity and collaboration and honest-to-God financial stability for the creatives, only the CEOs will be left.
Execs knows that as well as we do.
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I want to make a short thread about something very important to me.
As many of you know, I lost my dad to FoxNews and soft-conspiracy theorist probably starting a decade ago, and fully during the Trump Presidency.
It was awful and hard. Many of you know.
He refused to think. He wouldn't reason. He wouldn't challenge his preconceived notions or his ingrown biases.
He became angry and bitter and vengeful: and he didn't even know why, or with what.
It's been devastating to watch. He's 75 now.
About six-eight months ago, I made a hypocritical decision. I decided that he was going to get a pass on his horrible thoughts and opinions. I've cut people out of my life. But I will only ever have one dad.
I called him up. I laid it out. We live far apart. You're getting old.
A LOT of people I know are grieving right now because they've lost someone close to them. And that happens all the time, especially as we age, but right now seems like a cauldron of sadness for those around me.
I, very often, feel like I don't know the right thing to say.
"I'm sorry," is always true, you know, and easily expressed. But it always feels too common to me. Like a catch-all for loss. Impersonal, I think.
But I also don't want to fake sympathy, or act like I've been there if I haven't. That's hollow and rings false that way.
So what do you say?
I know this might come off as Hallmark-twee, and if it strikes you that way, I don't blame you. You gotta be authentic to you.
But I always liked it, and I feel like it's both personal and universal enough.
Threw on the FBOY ISLAND Finale in the background and the only thing I hope for is that Garrett falls into a fire filled with nails and hornets and cancer.
I feel bad for CJ because she ended up with two actual pieces of shit, and might have actually picked the worse one, somehow.
As I'm working tonight I have PUMPING IRON on in the background, which I'd never seen before.
And I'm sure if I'd experienced it way back in the day it'd hit much differently but in 2021 it just feels like Arnold is in a mockumentary and it is fucking HILARIOUS.
Also - and I know I discussed this with someone on here before, maybe @DrewMcWeeny? - Arnold's definitely *working* to keep that accent, right? He's lived in LA for like 50 years, there's no way it wouldn't have faded by now.
I'm not mad. I'm just saying.
I swear to God though this is one of the most unintentionally funny movies I've ever seen in my entire life. Everyone who isn't Arnold or Lou Ferrigno looks like they were kicked off the set of DICK TRACY.
So I'm waiting for food tonight and I'm sitting next to a nurse from Cedars who...I mean, I've been around enough military vets to know thousand-yard-stare when I see one. And she looked like she could see straight through to the other side of the galaxy.
I probably shouldn't...
...have asked if she was OK. I probably should have left her alone and let her gaze into thr abyss.
But I didn't. I asked if she was OK.
And she snapped out of it and smiled wanly, and nodded her head, giving me a look of, "Please don't ask me for details."
I didn't. But...
...she I guess had heard me mention BACHELOR IN PARADISE to someone on the phone, and we got to talking about that, and she clowned me pretty hard, and...honestly I get it.
And then she asked what *I* do, and I told her I'm a screenwriter, and she goes...