The Lighthouse Keeper Pt 3

Several weeks of unreturned phone calls and unopened emails later, the project was officially dead. Suzanne was apparently some real-life version of Brigadoon, only showing herself every 100 years to lost writers meandering about the Scottish Highlands of creativity. I didn’t need a coroner’s report to notify me of the script’s demise.  I learned later that Suzanne keeps a literal harem of pitches at her disposal and “The Lighthouse Keeper” was merely one of them. It has been several years, and like some jilted lover of yesteryear. I have not even received one word from the producer with the artificial top and the flaming red hair. But there is something.  I’ve was paid and I have a “blurry as fuck” photo to prove I was there.
 
We will be back next week with the usual hijinks. Coming very soon, yet another very special guest from the entertainment industry. See you then!
 The voice of the original writer echoed in my head ad nauseum. “It’s my story. You should of left well enough alone. You should have listened to me?” Where did I go wrong?  After all, I was the self-coronated master of Nazi horror lighthouse keeper stories. I drove back to my friend’s place in Santa Monica and waited fitfully for the director to find out what the hell was going on. Several days later, on my drive back to Northern CA, I heard back: “Massive improvement,” the diplomatic director informed me. “Suzanne just wants a few teeny-weeny tweaks to get us there.”
 
Save for the “teeny-weeny,” I had heard this all before. A few small changes could translate into several months of work. Suck it up, I told myself. Just wait for the notes. Much to my relief, it really did turn out to be just a few tweaks to act one and a bigger punch for the finale. No problem. I went immediately to work, tightening the introductions of the teens and adding the promise of more terror to come after the closing credits. I then sent the final version to all concerned parties.
 
Another table read was scheduled two weeks later and, this time, the director was invited. I wouldn’t be able to make it, so I was forced to rely on the eyes and ears of the director. There were no photos to document the event, but Suzanne stayed through the entire reading and reported we, at last, were ready. Ready for what? Preproduction? Financing? I wasn’t sure, but it must be a good thing, right? 
 
I already had dreams of pre, production and post dancing in my head. Not to mention all those award dinners. Perhaps I was on my way to a panel in San Diego to talk about Nazi lighthouse keepers at Comic Con. This was my ticket out. Just wait world, show business was just about to meet the most talented middle-aged writer working a little business I call show. I was going to break through whatever they call the equivalent of the glass ceiling for senior citizens, a cover story in AARP magazine and have my 2ndproduced film under my belt.  Look out, world. Here I come.
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And here is the fundamental lesson to this three-part series of blogs so I hope you are paying attention. It doesn’t matter what happens now. Why? You, my friend, have already been paid. You have received all monies owed and now the entire matter is officially out of your hands. Before investing too much into the whole affair, move onto the next project.

(A college production of "Brigadoon.")

Several weeks of unreturned phone calls and unopened emails later, the project was officially dead. Suzanne was apparently some real-life version of Brigadoon, only showing herself every 100 years to lost writers meandering about the Scottish Highlands of creativity. I didn’t need a coroner’s report to notify me of the script’s demise.  I learned later that Suzanne keeps a literal harem of pitches at her disposal and “The Lighthouse Keeper” was merely one of them. It has been several years, and like some jilted lover of yesteryear. I have not even received one word from the producer with the artificial top and the flaming red hair. But there is something.  I’ve was paid and I have a “blurry as fuck” photo to prove I was there.