But the year that I did blog about - well, let's just say it was quite serendipitous that 2007 was the year I wrote about.
Not only did I quit a high-falutin' NY ad job, but I moved across the country and put down roots on the West Coast with an eye to getting into the entertainment industry. I met agents, writers, producers, actors and a few others. I worked on Super Bowl television spots and even had some "luck" with playwriting (a few readings in NY and elsewhere).
And, perhaps most wonderfully, my wife got pregnant.
Which meant that while I was doing all that stuff, the stakes got higher and higher with each passing sonnogram.
Luckily, by patching together short time gigs and unemployment checks, we somehow made it a year in a way we - or rather I - had never before: without fulltime work.
But as the year came to a full 365 days - and a little beyond - I still had not landed a job in "the Biz". And I seemed nowhere near landing one. Instead, a writer's strike was about to start and every one of my contacts had gone back to NY to weather the coming storm.
And those who hadn't left were trying to figure out how they might stay afloat.
Then Grady was born. And it was time to, well, pay attention to mom and diapers and a little baby boy who could make hardened criminals stop and smile.
That doesn't mean I haven't done a lot of blog-visiting since then. I've checked in on writers I enjoy. And I even wrote a few post-Grady posts. But reflecting on them, I felt they were too self-aggrandizing and that had never been the intention here - a blog that began with the question: Can a writer and actress make it in LA with little more than MFAs from big schools?
It's been nearly two years since. And a year since I've routinely adressed it in the public forum that you're reading now.
So, for the few who care, here's a long-winded update on our life so far. Complete with pictures and videos and everything.
And, at the end, an answer to the question that we started all this nonsense with.
AUGUST At 4:02 am, on August 15th, my world, and my wife's world, changed forever: Grady is born.
He is quite a thoughtful looking boy from the start. Part boxing champ, part philosopher. I make the calls and send out the emails, and a few days after he is born the hospital kicks us out. And while I've grown a lot in just the few hours he's already been alive, the moment we put in him the car, I really experience what all that growing adds up to.
Vulnerability. Complete, total and, for me, inescapable vulnerability.
It hits hardest in the 3 or 4 mile drive from Cedars to Crescent and Sunset where we live. It is like walking across the city while carrying an egg on spoon the whole way.
In the rearview mirror, he is a tiny, peaceful spaceman floating through my world, but I am not fooled. He is an egg. An egg so fragile that if he breaks, I will break, too. Forever.
And strangely, this cascade of vulnerability feels great.
After we get him home, I spend the next 30 days experiencing all the different wrinkles of the vulnerability in so many other ways, I can't even tell you. Somewhere along the line, I write this:
So, in the dark, your eyes open and you're not sure at what, but something, something, in the dark, like a thought like a crinkling scrap of plastic working at itself in the corner of your mind - a money thing? a job thing? a lonely thing? - you don't know what - is it her? your wife? no, no and, then, well, you do know and you get up and stand at the side of your bed, and you walk through the dark dark hand on the mattress so as not to lose your way, so as not to smash your foot into the foot of the bed until you get to the end of the bed and the gap between you and thing that's woken you the thing that worries you and you have to get to it you have to and like an animal that doesn't know how far it is to jump leap jump from the edge of the ice to the edge of the ice but you do it and there you are hovering over the side of the crib and looking down to to to the sound of the most innocent thing in the world wimpering at dreams and you think, what in the world could be happening? what could such innocence be dreaming to whimper like that and you bend down in the dark dark and you put your lips close as you can to that soft ear and you shhhhhhh, shhhhhh baby boy. shhhhhhh. everything is going to be okay. everything is.
And it's true.
SEPTEMBER As sleep and waking continue to swim so close together I'm never sure which I'm living in, I start to worry about what's next. Particularly from a financial perspective. There is very little work in LA. Headhunters call with job leads that go nowhere. "Check avails" drift away like dust motes in the sun.
I begin work on a series of viral videos with a friend. Our intention is to shoot them. However, after outlining 4 episodes, we part. When we get together again, I'm the only one of us who has written out the spec scripts.
Next, I start planning to shoot a short movie which also parallels the first 10 minutes of a feature. Crazily enough I find two actors I like a lot and we start to rehearse.
Also, the parade of family begins to see Grady. First Eleanor (Heather's mom) then my mom and dad, then my sister and brother and cousins and... so forth. All is good.
The news in the theatre world is pretty much the same as always. Nothing... until I get an email for the O'Neill Center soliciting me to apply this year based on "the strength of (my) previous work". While I've pretty much given up hope on the O'Neill as a home for my work (based on what they choose and the swiftness of their rejections of my work), plus the letter seems like a disingenuous appeal to get more people to waste $30 dollars and a lot of time. But I let it get the better of me and allow myself to be persuaded that they really do want to read one of my plays. More about this to come....
Near the end of the month, I get a call from Denver. They're interested in perhaps moving me to Colorado. It's tantalizing, but I feel I haven't given LA the shot it needs and they sense it. No offer comes through.
Meanwhile, Grady's paternal grandparents visit from North Carolina. And so does my sister from Chicago. It's all good. And Grady starts to smile as September closes and turns into...
OCTOBER Ah, October. The month I begin an official financial freakout. The money from the summer work has dried up. Everyone in LA is moaning about the strike. And the advertising world is saying it's dead. Then, mid month, Denver calls me and asks me to come out and solve a problem for two weeks near the end of the month.
I am saved.
But not before I outline a pilot script for a friend in NY and start thinking, Hey, this is pretty good. I wish I didn't have work coming up. I'd like to write this right away.
Then a friend calls and says, you know your horse script? Let's work on it.
THEN I get a letter from John Grey, the creator of THE GHOST WHISPERER. He's back in NY, but he vaguely offers to help me when he comes back to LA.
But of course, even if he was to come back now, I'm committed at the end of the month to go to Denver. And since it pays, that's what I do. Fortunately, the pay is good enough that I can fly Heather and Grady out for Halloween. We enjoy it within the quite beautiful walls of the Boulderado, one of the area historic hotels. Here's a pic.
NOVEMBER The work I went out to Denver to do turns into a month and a TV production. This is good from a financial perspective, but I'm also handling pre-pro meetings on the road while trying to honor family commitments. In Napa, I turn a winery driveway into an office for the day while Heather nurses the boy in the front seat.
I feel very fortunate, but I worry about what's going on. No real work in LA has come my way since April. Everything has been out of town. And since, as a rule, one job begets another, the place where I want to work is looking more and more difficult to get something going. So, while traveling for Thanksgiving, I hit up San Francisco.
I marshal on with regard to the short film, though. We rehearse a little between my commercial TV production schedule.
And Grady is beautiful. Already he is smiling big and every time we visit the pediatrician, the word "advanced" comes up - a word I begin to look for in every conversation with anyone who comes in contact with our son.
Of course, it's ridiculous, but more fun than I'd ever imagined.
DECEMBER I've never shot a commercial during the day and then headed to someplace that wasn't a hotel.
Now, I certainly have enjoyed my stays at the Viceroy, Casa del Mar, Shutters, the Wilshire, the Mondrian and the Sunset Marquis, but it turns out I like my own bed better than lobbies full of poseurs.
Especially with the kid.
Sam Jones, the director, is quite nice. And the whole thing is easy. There is some deja vu however at his production offices: Tool, Inc. I shot with this company back in the day with Scott Burns. An award-winning writer in his right (he did a lot of the early GOT MILK? spots - notably AARON BURR), I think of him often while eating bagels and waiting to review wardrobe. It was a much smaller company back then and Scott was a real comer. He eventually moved on to TV and then film (he got a writing credit on the last BOURNE IDENTITY movie). His career in advertising was blessed from the beginning (it started in Chicago) and I can't feel anything but a little envious. I imagine that he had breaks I never had - but of course this is most like preposterous. Everyone I know who's been successful has had to work for every inch of it.
At the end of the shoot I'm happy to go home and celebrate Christmas. We buy a tree on Fairfax near the Farmer's Market. We have to stand it up on the front seat so the top juts out of the sunroof. It looks ridiculous. Which is why it feels like a real LA Christmas.
Some other work I did at the same agency.
JANUARY Planning for shooting the short film goes into high gear and I find a perfect location. My DP, Cat Deakins, is attentive, smart and my wife says I have a crush on her. This is not true, but I do love working with her. She brings on a couple of other UCLA people she knows and we split the cost of Final Cut together.
I also put looking for work into high gear and take a serious tour of the Bay Area. Everyone up there seems happy to see me and is interested in hiring me. There is definitely work there. Talking to friends in LA, I regrettably understand that nothing is happening. Headhunters tell me if that if I can find a job anywhere in the country, I should take it.
Grady continues to grow like crazy. And he is happy. I make a short flick of Grady and the next door neighbor's kid, Donovan. His father is a good actor who is doing a show up in SF for ACT. When I go up to the Bay Area a second time for more interviews, he has coffee with me. He frets over the strike in LA. I also lunch with someone from the Magic who tells me of Chris Smith's departure. He's fretting too.
For the first time, when I look at Grady, I wonder if I'll really ever be able to help him.
Oh, and one more thing: I get a rejection letter from the O'Neill. It's their typical form letter. And it really pisses me off because they had specifically asked me to submit. The coldness of the letter leads me to believe, they never seriously considered my work whatsoever - they just wanted $30 from me. I've had it with theatre - especially these folks in Connecticut. I write a polite but firm letter telling them how I feel.
FEBRUARY At the top of the month, I get a job offer from an agency in SF. It is too good to turn down. I'll be partnered with someone I've worked with before and who I love. I'll be at a small agency, that is still independent. I'll be working for clients who are not tech clients. And I'll be making more than I did in NY. Oh, and they'll move me.
I take it.
But before I do, I shoot my flick. It's a dark little piece that's ultimately too depressing for most, but I learn a lot about shooting in a very short time. Lessons like, you can actually move too fast. And, plan to have a lot of time when you're doing a movie - even if you don't have enough time - or you won't have enough time to do it.
It will take me months to edit it into something I like, but I don't know that at the time. If you're interested, here's a link to it: SF.
At the end of February, we go up to SF on our first foray into apartment hunting. It doesn't seem as bad as I recall it being in the 90s when the dot com boom caused a .01% vacancy rate - or something like that. Back then you had to show up with a year's rent in cash and a credit check all ready to go. We concentrate mostly in the East Bay, but it's rainy and unpleasant most of the time and our little mini cooper starts to feel really cramped.
I remember the days in LA when I thought I might have to live in the cooper. I feel very very thankful.
MARCH Our search for a place to live continues, er, drags. Though there seem to be plenty of places to live, they're all ridiculously expensive. $2400 -$2500/mo for 2 bedrooms in SF that no one in their right mind would want to live in. In the East Bay it's barely better, but at least the housing stock there is more liveable.
We don't find a place until near the end of our searching-time. We ultimately sign a lease for a place on Lake Merritt in Oakland. It's a 2 bedroom with about 800 square feet of patio. The apartment number is 4G - appropo considering our son's name. The place also happens to be in a building that several of the players on the Warriors lives in - including the coach, Don Nelson. Oh, and later I find out that Huey Newton of the Black Panthers once lived on the 25th floor. Feel's downright historical.
During this search - in the rain - I get a call from one of the Lit people at the O'Neill. The guy apologizes about the form rejection and then asks about what I've heard about the O'Neills reputation among playwrights. It's clear all he cares about is what people are saying, not what he is doing. It disgusts me because it reeks of weaseliness. And it's clear the O'Neill is not truly interested in anything but its own pretentious self. With only 8 slots for plays - 2 of which will be musicals - I can hear the corruption on the other end of the line. Out of 300 applicants, 292 will be disappointed. And I guess that only 2 will be truly new writers. (Later, when the plays that have been chosen are announced, this turns out to be sadly true. The only thing sadder is the subject matter and themes of the plays they choose: All typical of a politically correct non-profit.)
APRIL We go back down to LA and pack. Midway through the month I return to SF with an air mattress, a computer and a few boxes. And I go to work.
It's the first time in nearly 2 years I've worked in an ad agency full-time. It feels very weird to sit at the desk of someone who's been recently fired. Someone, as a joke, gives me a set of cards with the guy's name x'd off and my name written in hand over it. Ha.
It turns out that I know my former self. He'd been a writer at Grey in NY who'd actually done some work there that gave me hope. When he disappeared from that shop, I'd had no idea he'd moved west. Despite what the joke of the cards might imply, they all liked the guy and were sorry to see him go.
I try to put it out of my mind and dig into a TV assignment. My new boss rejects everything I do. While I understand why, it still drives me crazy. He asks me to write some radio. He rejects all of that work, too. I start wondering if I've made a mistake. Under it all, I know I haven't, but the panic grips me every once in a while. Plus, my boss is very quiet. I keep pushing. I figger I have nothing to lose. And I might even learn something.
Still, working fulltime is quite an adjustment.
MAY Heather and Grady leave the LA apartment at the end of April and it's a hard exit. Our new baby friends Judi, Rob & Wolfie and Matt, Dierdre & Donovan will be missed. And the building, rented to us when we had nothing but each other, means a lot to us. (Even later when I see photos of Heather and I in the apartment I see optimism that is both surprising and natural.)
Still, it is good to finally be together in one place again.
And then we get a call from Heather's mom. It's the Sunday after we move in and she's in tears. Her leg, which has been giving her problems due to arthritis in her spine, is acting up. She can hardly move and it's not clear if the medications are helping. What is clear is that her doctors are not talking to each other and one of us must go up.
So, after only a few days in the new Oakland apartment, Heather spends a good 10 days 350 miles away in Ashland trying to sort things out.
I keep busy by finishing a spec TV pilot that I'm writing with a friend, finishing the edit on my movie and reworking BEYOND THE OWING for a reading at the Playwright's Center in MPLS.
I also have a little more time figuring out how the office works. I am actually able to get a few headlines through that I like for Toyota and a bank client we have.
This is good. And unexpected. And I'm feeling pretty okay by the time Heather returns and the summer starts in earnest.
JUNE This is the first month Heather and I get with a whole month of all of us being in the same place. While we've done very well in a lot of ways, it's been rough. Neither of us want to have it this way so it's good.
Work starts to get hot. I'm working on Rachel's Yogurt, an interesting brand of yogurt with unusual flavor combinations. It's fun, but it's the first big piece of creative I'm responsible for at the agency and so I put a lot into it with my partner. The unfortunate bit about this is that I lose the ability to go to Minneapolis for a reading of one of my plays at the Playwright's Center. Worse, I miss the chance to see all my friends in MPLS, some of whom I haven't seen in some 10 years.
But by all accounts the reading goes well and Genevieve Bennett, the director, says she's going to produce the play next year. Some rewrites are due, but I'm very pleased.
JULY Work, work, work. And slowly we are climbing out of the hole that last year put us in financially.
Grady however is beautiful. Full of life and always ready for what's next. He is growing like crazy, reaching for things, babbling, crawling like crazy. We bet about when he'll walk. We go up to Ashland for fireworks. The air north of Sacramento is thick with wildfire smoke along 5.
It seems like forever ago that we moved to California, but it's only been 2 years. Nothing in terms of life as a whole. But boxes still remain unopened. And while I'd like to have everything in place, there's something fitting in knowing that there's more to go.
This brings us to August. Again. Yeah, a whole year later. And back to the month that I'll have to apply to New Dramatists - again. And bring a financial close to deficit. And a final close to this blog, which started with the question, Can a playwright with an MFA make it in Hollywood?
Obviously, the short answer is, this one didn't.
But that answer is not only too easy, but too broad. After all, we had a spectacular year there. And while I didn't "make it" in the sense I thought I wanted to, in a true Hollywood way, I "made it" the way I needed to.
Can't really beat that.
And there is that TV pilot that I finished...
Feel free to email me if you're interested in updates.
Malachy
Above, a music video I made for my friend, Dave Tutin. Quite appropo for this post. Just hit play to see it.
To see more pix of the birthday party, just go here.
It's all new, now, isn't it?
ps. Thanks for all the calls and emails from everyone about this. The support means a lot to Heather and I. You may get an email about this too - depending on how well I know you. Given the difficulties of wifi at the hospital, it was simply easier to post this first. I hope you understand.
So, you're probably saying, "I thought he said his last post was going to be coming up. But didn't he say that like, two weeks AGO?" And you'd be right. But if you think I'm hanging on too long, you should see the woman I'm married to.
After all, we are officially overdue. And she is officially tired of it.
But what can you do?
Us, we're playing tennis, going on long walks, planning ways to shoot more of a movie idea, kicking around a screenplay idea, seeing lots of movies (Rush Hour 3 - bad; Stardust - good; Once - excellent; Bourne - excellent; Harry Potter - whatever), watching TV shows (Damages - fucking fantastic; Mad Men - fucking fantastic; First Season of The Wire - REALLY FUCKING FANTASTIC!!!!) and, as the video embedded in this post shows, hitting the swimming pool late at night. (I apologize about the squashed look - I shot it in HD and must of captured it incorrectly because I can not get it to compress to the right format (16:9 letterbox) - though it's all part of the very steep learning curve.)
One good thing that has come about - BEYOND THE OWING will be getting a reading at the Playwrights Center in Minneapolis next year as part of their Roundtable Reading Series. It's a million years away, but it's nice to have something. Always nice.
In the meantime, I'm closer than ever to being done with this thing.
I thought it would be worthwhile - or at least worth the self-indulgence - to link to "People I'm Meeting In LA" posts that I've had written through the year. There's only 10 of 'em. And if you're interested, well...
************************ Finally, weirdly, "WHY BLOGGING MATTERS" has for some reason disappeared. Anyone know why that might have happened, aside from the crack that maybe it doesn't matter?
One piece of advice I've gotten from everyone here, from all angles. Do it yourself.
This follows Anne Bogart's "Don't wait."
You'd think theatre would be faster, but actually, it's not. For theatre, you not only need actors, but you need a space to rehearse in, a space to perform in and people to run lights, the house, the sound and the cues - every night.
Then you have to find an audience to make it worthwhile.
In film, you need those actors and technicians for one day (more if you have a budget and you're doing something bigger - but still less than theatre). The performance space can be as low rent as YouTube and my experience with videos on YouTube has been, you're likely to get more people watching your work by accident than you are to get in a theatre without a decent ad budget, a huge cast and a rave in print.
So I took all the collective advice and bought a Canon XH-A1. It's the low end 24f (or p, if you believe the hype) HD camera. I also picked up a Sennheiser mic and one lighting instrument.
My wife bought me a copy of Final Cut Express.
Two weeks ago I shot my first short. The script was from a play I wrote that imagines a conversation between Helen and Clytemnestra just before Clytemnestra gives birth to Iphigenia, (Iphigenia, the girl who will later be sacrificed by Agamemnon - her father - in order to please the gods enough to put wind in his Greek fleets sails and begin the quest to bring Helen back from Troy. Hilarity, right?)
The stills here are from the edited short - which runs about 10 minutes. I won't post the video of it because what I learned is just how limited my equipment is, but it gave me hope about continuing down this road.
And, it was fun.
I may in fact stop blogging soon, but I may start posting video shorts instead. All the while trying to find a place to do Dressing the Girl here in LA - naturally.
NOTE: While writing this, we had a 4.5 earthquake here in California. The bookshelves definitely SHOOK.
And these days we're a bit edgy waiting for that. But now that Denver is taking some space, we're not only waiting, but we're -er, well, I'm - thinking overmuch about what comes next.
Mixed into it, I've received a few rejections - one of which actually surprised me (though I should know better) - and one of which was very detailed about why a play I'd written wasn't being accepted. This detail was offered in good faith by someone who likes my work. But I have to remind myself - a lot these days - that nothing happens overnight. Or on any schedule that I have.
On the other hand, i'm making plans to do what many here have recommended - making something myself.
It's a lot to have in the air on the eve of so much more. And sometimes I feel a little like I did last November when I was thinking we might be living in a car rather than an apartment when there was no money and no prospects.
Of course, that's not at all how it worked out. But my Irish mind went there anyway.
And I while I have to wait for what comes next, I really can't wait. It's pretty amazing to think that a year ago I never thought I'd be in such an amazingly fortunate place.
Good things to come. Good things.
In that spirit, it seems like a good time to point out some of my favorite posts by others. So, in really no particular order, here's a list of posts (an inadequate list to be sure) that were worth a look when when they were written. And I think are still worth a look now.
If you don't find one you like, just check out anyone I've put a link to on the right. They're there because I read them. You should too.
2. This manifesto from Adam was great. Certainly made me think a little more about what I wanted to see in theatre. I suppose you might expect nothing less from Adam, who suggested I create my own blog just a little after we left school.
4. I used to read George Hunka very regularly. I still peak occasionally. Whatever one thinks of his style, he sticks up for seriousness and against the trivial. His "Organum" is a perfect example of his maddening tone and his incisive thinking. If you can't get one without the other, well, I'll take both rather than neither. So, look around.
So, you're probably saying, "I thought he said his last post was going to be coming up. But didn't he say that like, two weeks AGO?" And you'd be right. But if you think I'm hanging on too long, you should see the woman I'm married to. 
One piece of advice I've gotten from everyone here, from all angles. Do it yourself.
In film, you need those actors and technicians for one day (more if you have a budget and you're doing something bigger - but still less than theatre). The performance space can be as low rent as YouTube and my experience with videos on YouTube has been, you're likely to get more people watching your work by accident than you are to get in a theatre without a decent ad budget, a huge cast and a rave in print.
So I took all the collective advice and bought a Canon XH-A1. It's the low end 24f (or p, if you believe the hype) HD camera. I also picked up a Sennheiser mic and one lighting instrument.
The stills here are from the edited short - which runs about 10 minutes. I won't post the video of it because what I learned is just how limited my equipment is, but it gave me hope about continuing down this road.
