There has to be one more producer, or network…or person in the Greater Los Angeles area that wants to read my pilot! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN IT’S DEAD IN THE WATER? Is that code for something other than,”my life is over, and I’m going to jump off the nearest bridge”? Omg. I swear, as if waking up this morning with my ass-to- tits covered in hives wasn’t enough, this had to happen? This. This day. This fucking day that I’ve been dreading since the minute I started this journey two years ago. The day that I always knew was coming, but never really prepared for…because I am a dreamer. I’m a hoper. A romantic. I imagine happy endings, and wish on falling stars. I’m the girl that picks up my feet when I cross over railroad tracks, and then kisses the roof of the car. Even if I’m driving. That’s me. I just never thought for one, single minute that this dream wouldn’t come true.
Not this time. Not this dream. Not again.
It was my turn.
My turn to make it happen. My turn to show my boys that I could succeed at something on my own. Make them proud. My turn to show my Dad that I could actually follow through, and get it fucking right for a change. Finish the job I started; make something of myself. My turn, all y’all. Not this time. This time, my dream was going to become a reality. So when that phone call came in today, it crushed not only my dream…but my ego in one huge swoop. I listened to my agent tell me the pilot wasn’t getting picked up. I heard the reasons why. Blah, blah…blah fucking blah. It wasn’t good enough; I was a first time writer. It wasn’t “my time”. No one was “getting it”. The idea was good, but I wasn’t good enough to write it. Fucking fabulous. So, does that mean next fall I’ll see my show on TV with some other person’s name attached? Probably. But hey, that’s Hollywood. And I am just a girl from Charlotte, North Carolina with no skillz. But you know what? I got further than most first-timers. I wrote a pilot, and it was read by some kick ass peeps. I am proud of that. I’m more than proud, for Goddess sake! Did you know I never even wrote my own papers in high school? haha. My sister had to help me, and my dad. Shit, I achieved something I never thought was possible.
I let it soak in, as I sat in the parking lot of Caribou. I started crying. Then, sobbing. Not that pretty cry that girls do. That ugly, disgusting, snotty cry…and I didn’t have any Kleenex which totally sucked. And I’m like all hopped on Prednisone, so clearly I am not functioning on all cylinders. I didn’t even know who to call first. Embarrassed, and feeling like a total schmuck, I called Mark. Mark of all people. I tried telling him as best as I could through my sobs. He said,”Jen, no.” I told him I was a total loser. He said, “No one with the courage to try what you’ve been trying to do is a loser.” And then he said,”Jen, I’m so, so sorry.” And I cried harder. Then he got choked up, and then quiet. We both just said nothing, which sort of said everything.
The silence said everything.
I texted my Mom, and my sister. I called my friends, and the new guy I’m dating. He was amazing. Tried to talk me down from the ledge. He even offered to fly me somewhere beachy. Just to get me out of town, clear my head. But I reminded him about my hives. Not so hot on a beach. Hell, not so hot period… l look like a fucking cheetah. Adore his hot ass, and he meant well. But fuck, it’s almost impossible to understand the way this feels without going through it. I know, it’s not a death..and everyone is healthy. But it feels like someone ripped out my heart and stepped on it. Too dramatic? Ok, it hurts. I will be ok, I know that. But I have been working for two years on this. TWO YEARS! The ups and downs…the emotional roller coaster of it all. Ya, I know…it’s the business. But it doesn’t make it any easier. Can’t you just let me bitch for a blog or two? Jesus. I’m dying over here! And to make matters worse, the characters in the pilot are based on me! ME and my family. My life! Which makes it that much harder to let it go..so personal, writing about my life. And having to remind myself over, and over that Jen isn’t me…but a Jewish girl from a Southern town, that gets divorced…and well, the rest is a no-brainer. It was a no-brainer. I loved writing Jen. She was a flippin’ rockstar, and so much smarter and better than me. Y’all would have loved watching her. The new girl in town, the one that every woman wants to be…and every guy wants to fuck. Yup. That was my Jen. Dammit, Janet. I will miss her. And writing her…
And sure, I was a nothing before my agent’s wife found me here on The Truth Hurvitz. I owe her my start, and will thank her everyday for giving me such an amazing opportunity. But here’s the thing that Mark reminded me of today, I didn’t start writing this blog for the money. Or the fame. Or to write a pilot for a sitcom. I started this blog for ME. And if I stop blogging, just because I’m not making a TV show…who loses? Rhetorical. Who knows, maybe there is more to come from all this! When one door closes, another one opens! A book, or a screenplay… or shit, how about I just take a breather for a bit? I think I deserve a break for a while, don’t you? I’m kind of sick of writing for someone else. Fuck that. Time to write for me again. Just for me. No deadlines, no rules. No bullshit. No Hollywood. Just me.
Its time to find Jen Again. ;)