I wrote this already.
The night before the Atlanta Comedy Film Festival.
I wrote this blog…
I wrote this exact blog for when I lost.
And the winner is….not me.
I know, I know. It was dumb. And insecure of me. Why would I write a blog before I even knew the results of the festival? Shit. It’s the same reason I read the last page of a book when I first buy it. Or the reason I’d tell my mom I failed a math test before I got the results back. Or why I always assumed I didn’t get the part I wanted in the play I auditioned for…
I am an eternal pessimist!
Which is really quite funny, considering I always think of myself as an optimist! For real! If you know me, I am perpetually flippin’ peppy! I’m like the fucking peppiest bitch on the block! But inside, I’m just a Negative Nelly. My glass in never half full! Hell, it’s not even half empty. It’s just well, bone dry. I am one of those people. One of them. I am the girl that thinks the absolute WORST so when it’s even a little better than that…I’m pleased as punch!
Yasssss. That is me.
So, whatever. I wrote a “losing blog” because after hearing “no” for the last three years, I might have thought (do you blame me) that losing is just my “thing”. I am a loser. I have heard “no” more than a flat chick in a strip joint so I just figured I would be hearing no again at the Atlanta Comedy Film Festival. But when they called my name, “Jennifer Weintraub for Best Television Episode Screenplay” the first thing I thought was,”OMG I have to write a new blog!” Ha. Ok, that’s bullshit. That is not what I thought. What I thought was they must have made some kind of mistake. Isn’t that sad? Ya. Negative Nelly.
I was shocked.
Actually, scared to move.
I sat there for what seemed like a long time…
Truth be told, I had spilled wine all over me during one of the films and I was praying it was dry enough so when I walked up to the stage it didn’t show. Fuck. Who does that? Rhetorical. I was trying to drink out of a plastic cup, and missed my fucking mouth. It literally dripped off my bottom lip, down my chin…onto my breasts. I had to mop up my wet tits with my paper-thin graphic tee. Some even got into my fat rolls and belly button. I was sticky and smelled of cheap vino. Thank G-d it was dark and I was alone. And there was clearly no way I was winning! No way. Shit! Did they just call my name?
Did that guy just call MY NAME?
“Jennifer Weintraub for Best Television Episode Screenplay for Jen Again”. I was scared to move. I just sat there for a really long time…I said,”Holy shit! Me?” And he said,”Are you Jennifer Weintraub?” And I said,”Ummm Yes!” What a moron. I got up, shoved my Peanut M&Ms (great with wine) into my purse, and made my way to the stage. People were clapping. I was shaking, crying…and saying oh my god a lot. Not my most poised of moments. They were taking lots of pictures which I hope came out okay because it was not my best side. Oh, and I didn’t shower. (That’s another blog in itself, coming soon!)
I didn’t write a speech.
Number Thirteen asked me if I did, I told him yes. I lied. Ok, I didn’t really lie. Lie is such a strong word. I “fibbed”. I didn’t want him to keep buggin’ me about it, alright? He was making me all nervous and shit! Who writes a speech for an award they’re not even going to win? Well, yes I’m sure people do that. (And the Oscar goes to…whatever.) People that actually think they’ve got a shot at winning! Not me. But Number Thirteen was SO sure. He kept saying,”You are going to win, Jen.” Why did he keep saying it? How was he so damn sure…and why is he always right? Ha. It’s honestly so annoyingly-annoying…his perpetual rightness. But this time I was thrilled to be proven wrong. (This time.)
Number Thirteen was right.
And I’m sorry I didn’t listen knowing what I know now.
A little preparation might have been nice.
But I have never been happier because this version of Jen Again is fucking funny. (If you like Jewish girls gone south!) And now, I have validation. People other than my friends and family. TWELVE JUDGES actually liked this new and improved version. Now, hear this…the last 20 drafts, not so funny. Maybe that’s why it didn’t get picked up when we shopped it out in LA? Duh! I didn’t know what I was doing. But then came Warren Zide. He’s a dear friend and mentor. He taught me how to make Jen Again, smart. He gave me REAL notes, constructive notes…that made fucking sense. Warren read it with a producer’s eye and pointed out some critical things that needed tweaking. Then I had a few “ah-ha” moments with the script and characters. So, thank you Warren for all your guidance. Go Green and How-How!
So, now what?
Well, I keep on going. I enter more film festivals (thank you, Ben Hurvitz for this idea in the first place) and continue making connections. I pray that somehow this pilot gets recognized and picked up; maybe gets produced…then filmed. Or One Happy Divorce gets bought and we make a movie. I’m thinking Sex and the City meets Crocodile Dundee. Shit, a girl can dream, and why stop now? I changed my bio to read, ”best selling author and award winning screenwriter” which is honestly the craziest thing. I look at the words and can’t believe it’s me. I swear I used to be a dance instructor and DJ. I remember my life being about performing and teaching, loving to create…the lights and music. Now, it’s about making the words dance on a page. Corny, and cliché I know. but it’s true.
Who woulda thunk? Not me. Not ever.
Little Miss Pessimist, no more.
Maybe I should start filling up my glass? At least halfway…pass the Prosecco! I think I have a few things to celebrate this new year! ;)
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