A glimpse into one actor/writer's life in La-La Land. Part lampoon, part harpoon, all good.

Friday, September 15, 2006


So, I was, like, totally psyched. My writing partner and I had received some good feedback on our comedy, "Snooze," and extremely favorable coverage on our thriller, "Phobic." It was like telling a woman you like her new shoes. Or that her hair looks great. I could have walked on water, or air. And then (drum roll, please) the e-mail came. It was from a professional reader who had given his evaluation of "Snooze" - and it wasn't pretty. Now, like any good Jewish son, I can handle criticism; but this critique was harsher than Project Runay's Nina Garcia on crack. Or worse: Whitney Houston off crack. He basically said that I couldn't write; that I should move from LA and live under a rock; and, that the slaughter in Darfur was entirely my fault. I felt worse than Star Jones did when Babs gave her the boot. And then I felt...well, since I obviously can't write well, I can't actually think of the appropriate words. So, like President Bush's strategic war planners, I guess I'll have to resort to using pictures:

After that reaction I did what any self-respecting artist would do: I took to the bed. I mean it; just like a fifties housewife, I laid myself down and slept for 36 hours. I only woke up to pee. And eat. And, hell did I eat - food, and more food. No matter that I've gained ten pounds this past year (and been forced to cave and finally buy medium Calvin's); I didn't care. Hell, I ate so much that I emptied the cabinets and had to eventually crawl to the refrigerator and eat raw coffee grounds with milk for dessert. Then, when that routine got old, I ordered take-out. (Not an easy task in L.A., by the way, as compared to New York where you can order both fine cuisine and a prostitute from any country in the world and have them delivered comfortably to your tiny apartment door. Not so here; you're lucky to get decent Chinese that's been over-cooked by Latinos and delivered by a boy who can't make change for a ten.)

And while my gut worked on the mass of calories I had consumed, my mind was digesting the perceived rejection. I began to ask myself: Why was in Los Angeles? To write (and to act). And: Why do I write? Because I have something to say; and, more importantly, because I enjoy it. So am I going to let one no-thank you letter cause me to quit? To cut and run, as the Neo-Cons say? Why, I say, "No, thank you," back. And with a smile.

That was it. I didn't cry, I didn't whine, and I didn't tell a soul about my pity party. With that, I realized that there was just one more (entirely logical) question before me: What would Jesus do? Just kidding; but, really: what would Madonna do? I suspect that she, like any self-respecting whore, would just keep on putting out; critics be damned. And that's exactly what I'm going to do.


Blogger Betsy said...

Critics be damned! No one ever scrabbled to the top without a retarded review under the belt somewhere!

Madonna keeps putting out and is still fabulous, even this many years later! Sound familiar? It should!


PS-- have you thought about further enhancing your career with a glossy coffee table book full of sordid photos of you in pointy bras? (It definitely worked for someone else.) I'm just sayin' is all...

1:28 PM  
Blogger Soul Terrain said...

Excellent advise, Betsy! Or write something with the word 'karma' in it at least three times, that's the ticket. That critic will be the one that they talk about - "and he tore Mr. Bosarge up back in the fall of '06 - can you believe it?!?"

You know you can't stop. OK, you can stop swilling coffee grounds, but not writing. Glad you made it through to the other side.

4:08 AM  
Blogger gdawgrn97 said...

You could tell the critic in the words of the Great Whitney Houston...KISS MY ASS!!!

11:32 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Keep going, and keep putting out- it at least will be fun- for you, and all of us who do enjoy your work (which is growing every day)

6:25 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Yeah, what they said (above). That blog entry - amid the other wellsprings of creativity posted on your blog - plainly show that you can write. And how. That other guy is clearly just an incompetent critic. Go foxy!

A big fan,

2:02 PM  

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