My Name in the Credits
Despite my best efforts to be a relevant force here in Hollywood I am still relatively anonymous. Not like I thought there would be a film crew awaiting my descent every morning, but still. Alright, I admit, like every other writer, I thought my first script was brilliant and would naturally sell for seven figures. And like every other writer, I came to see that my first script was pretentious crap that I would want my name removed from if it were actually out there.
Like every other writer, I’ve learned it’s a long, slow process to make a name for yourself here. It’s going on four years and there are inroads to be sure. My scripts are improving. My network is growing. My producing project is starting to attract notice. Even famous people know about it and that’s heartening. But it’s not like I’m getting stopped on the street by Brad Pitt screaming: “Heidi, is there a part in it for me?”
“Oh, you wouldn’t want that fame,” says a friend who was married to it. “Your life isn’t your own anymore. And everything is about him and his dream; making that happen for him.”
I assume she means her ex-husband and not Brad Pitt. And, given my brief liason with the Director, I can see how that might be the case. So here I am, still one step away from the big time at every turn.
The thing about Hollywood though is that it is the dream factory after all. My producing partner and I have had an amazing run of good luck lately; cosmic forces coming together for our film, cool people aligning with our plans. The magic 8 ball says: all signs point to yes.
So when I came out of my house yesterday morning to walk Simon Le Dog, it nearly didn’t seem out of the ordinary that there was a film crew waiting there. OK so maybe they weren’t waiting for me per se, but you gotta use what you’re given, right?
As I walked through them, one actor-ey guy commented on my Keane shirt and then segued into a chit chat about my favorite restaurants: “We’re doing a sort of guide to LA food from the streets,” he purred. I gave him some sound bites, plugged a few of my favorite eateries, signed a release form and went on my merry dog walk.
So at last it begins. I’m no longer anonymous in LA. In the ending credits crawl of today’s film I’m Unshowered Dog-Walking Girl In Cheap Sunglasses Who Likes Italian Food. Look for me!
Like every other writer, I’ve learned it’s a long, slow process to make a name for yourself here. It’s going on four years and there are inroads to be sure. My scripts are improving. My network is growing. My producing project is starting to attract notice. Even famous people know about it and that’s heartening. But it’s not like I’m getting stopped on the street by Brad Pitt screaming: “Heidi, is there a part in it for me?”
“Oh, you wouldn’t want that fame,” says a friend who was married to it. “Your life isn’t your own anymore. And everything is about him and his dream; making that happen for him.”
I assume she means her ex-husband and not Brad Pitt. And, given my brief liason with the Director, I can see how that might be the case. So here I am, still one step away from the big time at every turn.
The thing about Hollywood though is that it is the dream factory after all. My producing partner and I have had an amazing run of good luck lately; cosmic forces coming together for our film, cool people aligning with our plans. The magic 8 ball says: all signs point to yes.
So when I came out of my house yesterday morning to walk Simon Le Dog, it nearly didn’t seem out of the ordinary that there was a film crew waiting there. OK so maybe they weren’t waiting for me per se, but you gotta use what you’re given, right?
As I walked through them, one actor-ey guy commented on my Keane shirt and then segued into a chit chat about my favorite restaurants: “We’re doing a sort of guide to LA food from the streets,” he purred. I gave him some sound bites, plugged a few of my favorite eateries, signed a release form and went on my merry dog walk.
So at last it begins. I’m no longer anonymous in LA. In the ending credits crawl of today’s film I’m Unshowered Dog-Walking Girl In Cheap Sunglasses Who Likes Italian Food. Look for me!
Labels: LA
posted by Heidi at 4:52 PM
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