On The Road, Redux

Posted By: Peter DavidPosted On:

But I Digress...
June 7, 1991

Appropriately enough for a column about failure, last week’s included the date “Monday, April 30” which should, in fact, have been “Tuesday, April 30”–a typo originated with the writer that went past two more people. Right day, wrong date. And so, concluding the last installment of Peter David’s up-and-down trip to duh Coast…

TUESDAY, APRIL 30–Feeling much better since last night’s debacle regarding the movie screenplay. I go off to have breakfast with one of the guys who is spearheading the project.

I go to meet him at a restaurant and he’s there waiting for me. He looks like he’d rather be anywhere else. I don’t entirely blame him. The night before, on the phone, I was a complete mess. Perhaps he thinks I’m going to burst into tears and be an embarrassment right there in the restaurant. Fortunately I have my composure back by this point, and have sworn that I’m never going to let myself get caught that way again.

The conversation, and subsequent meetings with his bosses, is inconclusive. This is my first major introduction to the mysteries of Hollywood, and I depart the meeting as mystified as when I went in. Only in Hollywood could the following scenario occur: 1) People option a book and tell you they love it; 2) the people then tell you that it has to be completely changed, which makes you wonder what in the world they liked about it; 3) In the spirit of cooperation, you write it the way they ask, reasoning that they’re the movie people and they know best when it comes to films (thereby ignoring William Goldman’s “Nobody knows anything” caution) and then 4) they hate what you’ve written because it’s nothing like the book.

I am aware of the fact, through second-hand sources, that writers are treated like disposable socks in Hollywood. But this is the first personal encounter I’ve had with it, and it’s truly an amazing perspective. Going from a convention where you are admired as an individual for your accomplishments to an entire town where you have the same social status as spore mold (unless, of course, you go on strike) can be something of a culture shock.

Return to the hotel uncertain of the fate of the movie and, at this point, mentally distanced from it. Check out of the hotel, have lunch with my agent who has read the screenplay. She thinks it’s rough but would make a terrific film, and since she’s told me in the past that there’s other stuff I’ve written she didn’t like, I tend to believe she levels with me. We discuss future projects, including some potential stuff with Warners that’s much too early in the planning stages to discuss in detail.

I swing over to the Dudley Doo-Right Emporium, a store on Sunset Blvd. that stocks nothing but merchandise connected with Jay Ward. They do not take credit cards, but to my joy, they take checks. That’s how you know you’re not in New York. I create a Superchicken T-Shirt that reads “You Knew the Job was Dangerous When You Took it,” which seems to sum up my life about now. Also get a cassette of Jay Ward TV themes, some assorted gifts, and a t-shirt with Mr. Peabody on it that reads, “Mr. Peabody’s Private School for the Extremely Clever.” Jay Ward is made for peple with shakey egos.

Have an afternoon meeting with Paul Dini, story editor on “Tiny Toon Adventures.” Paul screens some material for me from an upcoming “Tiny Toons Summer Vacation” special, which will either be released as a video tape or even possibly into movie theaters.

My favorite sequence is unquestionably when Shirley the Loon is in a theater and she, along with the rest of the movie goers, gets massacred by a parody of the sound test for the THX sound system from Lucasfilm (the one that ends with “The Audience is Listening”). In this version, everyone is blasted right out of their seats by shockwaves of sound, and then the following logo appears: THUD (a division of Mucasfilms). And this is followed by the message, “The Audience is Now Deaf.”

They are also working on a “Tiny Toons” record. There had been one song, a send-up of “California Girls” called “Acme Acres Girls,” sung by the intrepid Buster Bunny, for which Paul had written the opening line, “Well, those Disney girls are drips, I really hate those ears they wear.” It was dropped, however. Pity.

Work is progressing on a segment I’ve written for “Tiny Toons,” one of three cartoons in an episode entitled “Wacky Sports Spectacular” which will be on in November. I’ve pitched a number of other ideas, but they’re all too similar to stuff they already have in the hopper.

I cast back to basic writing: Write about what you know. I think about everything I’ve gone through in the past 24 hours, and I suggest a story in which one of the Acme Looniversity students gives a performance that is trashed by their mentor. And the student is totally unable to cope with it. Paul decides the idea has merit and it looks like, thanks to my script evoking such negative reactions from the movie people, I may be able to turn it into an episode of “Tiny Toons.”

After making a quick stop at Universal Studios to get a personalized gift for my wife, I head over to Bill Mumy’s house. Bill and Eileen’s small son, Seth, isn’t feeling well. I think back to when my kids were that small and think about how small crying children are behind me. Then I remember my wife’s pregnant. Ah well.

While there, I’m contacted by Mark Hamill, calling to say he is not going to be able to make the Chicago Comic and Science Fiction Expo. I am somewhat bummed by this. On the other hand, I figure with Mark not coming, maybe the Chicago folks will bring in Mumy and friend Miguel Ferrer. Since Al Collins is already going to be there, that would make 3/4 of “Seduction of the Innocent”…a cause for rejoicing in and of itself.

My plane is at 11 PM. I shoot over to LAX, get on the plane, and settle back in the chair. The stewardess comes out to give instructions on how to buckle seat belts and I close my eyes to rest. When I open them again, we are ten minutes away from landing. It’s easily the closest to instantenous transport I’ll ever come.

Peter David, writer of stuff, has since learned that Mumy and Ferrer will indeed be at the May 31-June 2 convention, and hopes to see you all there. Also attending, as a sub for Mark, will be John Wesley-Shipp. We cannot wait until the Shipp hits the fans…

3 comments on “On The Road, Redux”

  1. I never knew you wrote for Tiny Toons. Cool.

    I also loved that bit in the theater, and I didn’t even get the THX reference at the time.

  2. I was just working on an interview with Eric Garcia, author of the best-selling Anonymous Rex books, one of which has just been adapted into a TV movie/back-door pilot airing on Sci-Fi next month. If you’re not familiar with the books, they’re basically a noir satire about a private detective who just happens to be a dinosaur. I know, it sound preposterous, but that’s the major conceit, and once you get past that, the books are tremendously enjoyable. Before I go any further, you have to know that the premise is that dinosaurs didn’t actually die 65 million years ago, but have managed to survive to the present day, albeit disguised in human costumes so as to pass undetected among us. Anyway, when the first book came out a few years back, it was well reviewed and a reasonable success sales-wise, which meant that all the major studios looked at it, with big stars like Robin Williams and George Clooney attached at various points. But the reason for mentioning all of the above is as background so you can imagine Garcia’s reaction when he went for a meeting with a very well-known producer, who talked about how much he loved the book, how great it was, and then asked, ‘But do they have to be dinosaurs?’ These are the same kind of geniuses who asked director Guillermo del Toro when he was working on Hellboy, ‘What if it’ s a normal guy that gets angry and turns into Hellboy?’ or,’He’s just going to be skin-toned, he’s just going to be a little reddish, right?’

    Incidentally, as a rejoinder to the Garcia story, he also talked about his experience with Matchstick Men, which was made into a movie last year, directed by Ridley Scott and starring Nic Cage. Apparently the studio had commissioned a script, but weren’t entirely happy with the ending, which was completely different from Garcia’s original ending. When it was suggested to the powers-that-be that maybe they should go back and look at the book to see how it had ended, their response was, ‘There’s a book?’ I’m sure Peter probably has a dozen stories of his own, as does just about anybody who’s ever written a book in which Hollywood took an interest.

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