Writers mill into their favorite coffee shop early in the morning – if they’re smart – or midday – if they’re ready to fight for an outlet. At any spot in Los Angeles, you’ll walk in for your coffee and past a series of glowing LCD screens, displaying the clear markings of a screenplay draft. “INT. APARTMENT – DAY” peaking out from someone’s spot by the window.
I usually glimpse those words over a hunched shoulder or in the furrowed brow of that dude hugging the wall in the corner. The Hemingways of our generation – except this go around entails a $5 coffee and a $120,000 American dream, which seems to guarantee a high rate of underemployment. Continue reading