​I grew up on the mean streets of N.E. Portland with only two options of getting out. The choice was either pushing drugs or signing an N.D.A. My formative years were hard, my life tempered by the lawlessness and violence surrounding me. Time was running out for this streetwise rapscallion, and soon it would be too late.

Oh, you think I meant N.B.A. Nope. I'm afraid this player has got no game. I'm talking N.D.A. (Non-Disclosure Agreement). Recently I signed with an unspecified company for an unknown amount. Geez, J.P., could you be just a little more specific. Not really. This is what an N.D.A. is all about.

I can tell you this; I enjoy announcing my small creative victories on social media. Does that make me a social media whore? Yes. But we can talk about my seamy proclivities later. When I asked the company if I could announce I was working with them, they were pretty firm in their response. I will give you a hint. It was one harsh sentence, started with the word "no" and did not have "may" in it, as in, "no, you may not."

So, let's discuss the wonderful world of N.D.A.

According to Wikipedia,

A non-disclosure agreement (N.D.A.), also known as a confidentiality agreement (C.A.), confidential disclosure agreement (C.D.A.), proprietary information agreement (P.I.A.) or secrecy agreement (S.A.) or 'non-disparagement agreement' is a legal contract or part of a contract between at least two parties that outlines confidential material, knowledge, or information that the parties wish to share for specific purposes, but want to restrict access to. ​Doctor-patient confidentiality (physician-patient privilege), attorney-client privilege, priest-penitent privilege , and bank–client confidentiality agreements are examples of N.D.A.s, which are often not enshrined in a written contract between the parties.


I can't shake the feeling that I would've been much better off if I had signed several N.D.A.s throughout my lifetime. In this, or any, business, sometimes saying nothing at all is better than the alternative. Ask anyone who knows me; I am almost too willing to talk. I would have made a lousy prisoner of war. I'd have spilled it all: name, rank, serial number, personal debt to income ratio. In business, T.M.I. is a hell of a reason for N.D.A. For blabbermouths like me, suing someone for violating an N.D.A. can be one hell of an incentive.

I have signed an N.D.A. once before, and no, it wasn't for either Scott, Harvey, or even Kevin. I will just say it was necessary and easy. And, as far as the current one, it’s an N.D.A., I can’t tell you jack!

And now, since I could not find a video even remotely close to our subject matter, I bring you this.

"I thought you were good, Paul, but you're not good. You're just another lying ol' dirty birdie."
 
Well, summer is nearly over, and from one lying ol' dirty birdy to another, I hope you got a heck of a lot of creative things done. I say that because we may be going back into lock-down. Hospitals' beds are filling up, incubators are flying off the shelves, and the rumors of third shot boosters are as commonplace as Q Anon conspiracy theories regarding a stolen election. Oh, and most of the west is in extreme fire season. I swear it’s like being in a Roland Emmerick movie.
 
So, tell me something uplifting, J.P. 
 
Okay, here goes—fun fact for the day. If you have a piece of material out for consideration, and you send a status email, if it has been decided that it's a pass, you'll receive your call or email between 4:45 pm and 6:00 pm. If you do not send a status email, you will hear considerably earlier in the day. Why do I say this? What prove do I have for this wild assumption? I don't have any proof besides checking the timestamps on all my emails (which I do). Let's call it more of a pattern. 
 
Probably not as uplifting as you like, so that I will try again. Do something creative long enough and often enough, and you will get better. Will I be better sufficient to sell something for a lot of money? No. Be grateful for small victories. 
 
As a rule, people like to work with considerate people, listen, work hard, contribute, treat others well, don't throw staplers, and are considered fun to be around. Does that guarantee you a job? No. However, if you do get or have a job, they may very well remember you in the future.
 
Never sell yourself short. Oh, and never let them see you sweat and don't draw upon and inside straight and when playing Blackjack, hit on nine and below and stay on 11. 
 
As a side note, I got a gig, so my blogs will most likely tend to be shorter for a while. Be prepared as it may go on for a few months. I would tell you more, but I signed an NDA (More on that next week).  So, even though some of the blogs may be shorter, I will still painstakingly choose the very best YouTube videos. After all, I may be a lying, dirty birdy, but I am not a monster.

A picture of Gene Hackman happens to be making the rounds of late. What's the big deal, you ask? He's old. Not ascot wearing to hide a chicken neck old. We're talking, wow, you need some help crossing the street, mister, old. I happen to be considered old myself and only a stone's throw from looking like that picture myself.  I genuinely love that picture's smile and the "fuck you" look he gives us all. It says that I made my millions and now I will paint a few pictures and relax. And do I need any help crossing the street? Fuck no.
 
I've talked about ageism a bit in this blog. Mostly on how to hide it. But the fact of the matter is, age should not matter. Great art continues no matter what your age. For Gene, it happens to be painting. For me, it's cosplay. Kidding. I haven't played the cos since the very early eighties. 
 
I'd like to think that ageism is slowly retreating in Hollywood. The speed of the retreat is roughly the same at which the sea level is rising.  So, what I guess I am saying, is that by the time ageism is defeated, we will all be living underwater.
 
So, let's all take a tip from Gene Hackman and do what you love until they pour you into the urn. 

First and foremost, nobody caught me masturbating, so let’s just consider that a win. Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. But what kind of wanker whips it out during a staff meeting? Oh yeah, I remember, a New Yorker columnist.
 
Not only are we entering a new chapter of the pandemic, but discovering new ways of pitching our work through the, as Henry Rollins is fond of referring to it, internets. Ask anyone who knows me; I am not all that fluent in Zoom. For the record, I prefer skywriting or good ol’ fashioned smoke signals as a way to get my ideas out there.
 
At this juncture of my life, I not only have a face for radio but an entire essence best suited for poorly recorded podcasts. I possess the chicken neck of Roger Moore in A View to a Kill, the voice of Nick Nolte, in anything, and the jowls and general physique of Orson Welles hanging out a supermarket at all hours shopping for the best price in expired whole rotisserie chickens.
 
Not that I am any good at in-person pitches. I once had a pitch that went precisely as long as the logline. Oh, I hear you say, it could not have gone that bad. Oh, yes, it could. 
 
Other than all that, the Zoom pitch went exceptionally well, and I have to say it was because of the people I was lucky enough to meet with. They smiled at my lame attempts at humor and even chuckled at my timely reference to Paul Revere and the Raiders. It must have been the work itself because I was enthusiastically nervous, even going so far as to end it by assuring all in attendance that I was a team player and would do whatever it takes to make the project work for both the NY Production Company and the audience as well.
 
I have never pitched after a company had read my work, which threw me off my game at the very beginning. So, we ended up talking about my inspirations and the lead character. I stammered. I stumbled, but all with a smile on my face. I repeated that it was an underdog story (whatever the hell that means), and it all ended with a promise to follow up in a few weeks.
 
Their exact words were, “we are going to keep the script a few more weeks and talk about it.” I could tell the development team likes it, and the owner wanted to see the script after the initial email pitch. I guess it is up to the screenplay god’s now.
 
I will keep you posted.

(And now a few words from Rockwell.