Seems like a lot is going on, and at the same time, nothing is going on. Anyone else feeling that way? The days are full. But the trail to the finish line seems like it’s further away. Like we were running, and we thought the goal was right around that corner. Then we turned, and we were wrong. The finish line is like five blocks further than we imagined. Anyone else? What the hell am I talking about? I’m talking about everything, I suppose. News, for sure. Work, very much for sure. Life, yeah, that, too. Let’s grab each of these and see where they take us.
News. It’s hard not to have opinions or feel like you need to keep up with what’s happening right now. The last week or two has felt like each morning brings us some sort of earth-shattering item we are supposed to parse, turn over, and figure out and by day’s end. Because if we don’t, we won’t be ready for tomorrow’s big event. And we all take to the airwaves. Airwaves being some way we communicate with each other. I have a couple of people I talk to on a regular basis about things like this. I want to hear what a friend who doesn’t agree with me has to say about it. It makes me think about things. And usually, but not always, the answer is a version of, “We’ll have to see how this plays out.” For me, this means a rush to panic or a rush to the sky falling isn’t always the right thing to do, even if it goes against all the algorithms and news cycles that tell us to for sure rush and to definitely panic. And click things. Click lots of things. I prefer this small approach of talking to people, as opposed to, say, writing an open letter calling on a candidate to quit and thinking that what I have to say means more because I’ve given more money to a candidate than other people.
Which reminds me of a story. About one of those people who is in the news this week, about what’s happening with a candidate. I don’t usually name names here. Sure, I talk about someone like Robin Williams, and I’ve mentioned my dear friend Willie Garson who would love that I used the phrase, “dear friend.” So maybe I do name names. I just usually try not to name names when I’m about to talk about someone in a bad light.
Jeffrey Katzenberg.
When I was a part of the WGA Strike in 2007/2008, I was a strike captain. I was on hiatus from a show that I was running and that I knew would be coming back after the strike. And I got a call one day from someone on staff at the WGA. She wanted me to know I was going to get a call to go to a meeting of disgruntled showrunners. These folks were going to be meeting with Jeffrey Katzenberg to see if they could jump start negotiations. Get the talks going and see if these showrunners could put some pressure on the WGA leadership to maybe walk back some of their demands. She knew about the meeting, and she knew I’d get invited. Why would I get invited? “People think you are fair and open about things.” Would I go? And would I tell her who was there? I would not, I said. I would go, and I would say and speak my mind. I might call and tell her what kinds of things were talked about. But I wouldn’t provide a list of who was there. SO off I went. TO the largest house I’ve ever been in. EVER. It had a tree and a babbling brook in the… lobby is the only word I can think of here to describe the part of the house you enter. I got to hear Jeffrey tell us all how absolutely screwed us writers were. How we had gotten screwed over on getting paid for our work on VHS tapes and screwed over on DVD sales and we were for sure going to get hammered on this thing we wanted. We wanted to get paid for work that would be distributed and seen on something called The Internet. And we were going to be screwed on that. He kept using a different word than screwed. I was seated in the only chair available to me when I got there, the one in the circle right next to Jeffrey. Here I am, a guy running a kid’s show that no one has heard of because it hasn’t premiered yet. In a room of people with all kinds of shows I had seen. In a house built off of a show that made so much money the house had an outside on the inside of the house. “Okay. I get it. Well, I don’t know about VHS. When you were busy screwing writers over on that, I was in high school, trying to actually screw someone.” Whew. Got a laugh from the room on that one. “So now that we know all that, can you tell us what the companies might be willing to walk back from their demands if we talk to our leadership about walking back some of ours?” I looked for the nearest exit. I had also calculated that at this point in Jeffrey’s career, as the head of DreamWorks, a non-WGA studio that made animated shows and movies, I would most likely NEVER work for him anyway. Then a voice from the other side of the room, “That makes sense. If we need to talk to our leaders about what to take off the table, what can you say that the studios will take off the table?” And a conversation started, and it became clear to a lot of us that Jeffrey didn’t have any answers for us there. The meeting ended, we went to our cars, and every single one of them had a flyer on it calling all of us “Anti-Union Pigs” or something like that. The only real acting I had to do that night. The only real spy test was in me being outraged at the flyers along with the other writers who came to the meeting.
Work. I am still dedicated to being optimistic. That things will be opening up. More things will happen. But the spate of articles and conversations this week took a turn. Lots of, “There will be more trouble ahead.” But I am starting to see dates on my calendar for pitches for new shows, and I turned in drafts of two pilots back to networks. So it feels like something is happening. We will see, I guess. Just have to see how it plays out, right?
Life. I got to visit with my 100-year-old father-in-law. Wild to think about that length of time. By that measure, as the title suggests, I’m halfway gone and where am I at? I’m happy. I know that. I like where I’m at. I like what I do. I see the challenges ahead. I get frustrated by them. I try and figure them out. But when it’s the end of a day, and it becomes a summer night and I’m at the ballpark? All is good with the world. And the universe agrees with me. Last night, at the stadium, I guess the organ player must be one of my readers, because he played, “Summer Breeze,” from last week’s post.
For the Substack, we are exactly where I wanted to be at the end of June. I’m told we’re growing at a healthy rate, still. But word of mouth does me best. So please tell one person about this and share it. I want to keep building.
My wish for you all is that we run this second half of the year as good or as better as we did the first half. Let’s go!
P.S. All the comic books that you said you wanted have been mailed out. Enjoy them. I’m heading to Comic Con in a couple of weeks. Is anyone else gonna be there?
P.P.S. Thanks for the songs from last week, I love them.
Peter, thank you for your positive and hopeful attitude. I’m going to try your suggestion. Going to try more discussion and less clicking. Thought you would like the spirit and lyrics of this song from fellow Jimmy Buffett fans: https://youtu.be/_uHXS36LKNE?si=Evw7SrYfUS6_bmLN
#Amen 🙏 I always say “ I’m on this side of the grave .. and I’m not giving up yet !”