The assumption was that a strike “would” happen…but us half glass full folks certainly hoped it wouldn’t. So I continued to work. I worked hard and kept my fingers crossed and then I heard the news, like everyone else, “Monday morning at midnight”. No one I spoke with was happy about it but the AMPTP didn’t leave us much choice with their miserable rollbacks and headgames. So, I sent my last script via email at 8:30pm Sunday night (since that was 11:30 Eastern). Such a shame really. Because working on the above mentioned project was…well…fun. The money was crap. Well, less than crap. Crap would consider it crap. But it was fun and I guess that’s something.
Yesterday I got one of those letters informing me that due to the strike the company involved would no longer have need of my further contractual writing steps. Basically they’re saying they aren’t going to pay me for that last draft. At least that’s what I’m supposed to think. I’m supposed to get all discourage and as a result use my vast connections at the WGA to put pressure on the powers that be to make a deal. Yeah. Right. First, they gotta pay me. It was a really cute letter and all but eventually after a long dance with my lawyers they’ll have to pay me. Second, I don’t feel very discouraged.
Maybe I’m naive but again, I really did enjoy working on this gig. I “liked” the suits I was working with and I don’t say that often. Mainly because I’ve worked with some real brain stools in this business. But these guys and gals I liked. And I doubt they even know about the letter. The machine is so big on their end that the left hand really doesn’t have a clue who the right hand is screwing. At least that’s how the letter read. It wasn’t personal. It read like a form letter. So, I filed it away and went to tickle my daughter.
So, in my downtime, wanna take a guess what I have been doing? I’d rather spend time with her anyway. She is officially getting into everything. She likes bikes. We keep them inside because the nightly fog leaves a layer of moisture on everything in our small town and that wreaks havoc on anything rust worthy.
The other day while her momma was making a food run, I heard young Ms. Rain yelling and turned to find her half hanging with her arm stuck in the spokes. She wasn’t really crying although it looked painful. I would have been crying. But if I had to translate her emotion I’d say she was pissed. I helped her free herself at which point she promptly stood and proceeded to yell angry gibberish at said bicycle wheel and spokes.
I have always heard that first time parents were overly protective. And sure we’ve had our moments. I certainly don’t like it when she’s sick, even though she doesn’t seem to mind that much. And I don’t like it when she does the “real” cry. Like sometimes when she wakes up in the middle of the night and starts crying this panicked, heart wrenching sound. It’s rare but it’s powerful. She doesn’t cry much but when she does it’s normally the grumpy cry. Or the “I want something” cry. With those cries I just kick her out of the way and go about my business. But that “real” cry. Yeah, that one makes daddy jump. Thankfully, that cry is from the heart and so far can’t be faked. Turns out she’s not a polished actress. Guess she’ll be a storyteller like her parents. Or a ninja.
But in all our adventures I have found Mel and I to be rather laid back. We have friends who are Biblical in their belief that children shouldn’t watch TV before the age of two. Young Ms. Rain loves Monster’s Inc, Finding Nemo and recently Happy Feet. They make her happy and we’re not taking those away from her just cuz some bozo with a couple of letters behind his/her name said so. They ain’t the boss of me. Nobody puts baby in a TV-less corner. But it’s interesting to note, that Young Izzie Rain only likes those three movies. I’ve tried The Incredibles, Shrek and all the old Disney classics. In fact, last night, since we had established how much she loves Happy Feet, we tried Surf’s Up. Three minutes into Izzie turned to us and gave us a look like, “What the f@#* is this $#!*?” Then proceeded to play with her blocks and refused to look at the TV until we stopped the DVD and started watching a TiVo’d Dexter (which she loves by the way). The kid likes what she likes.
Okay, I kid about Dexter. People shows interest her less than Bambi and that retarded rabbit. And it’s not like we plop her down in front of the TV all day long. She’ll watch one of her movies while her momma and me shower or do assorted chores or sneak off for some nekedness. And while she may watch a movie every other day the rest of that day is spent taking walks or going to class or playing blocks or reading books. The fact is we have a great balance. We’re fortunate enough that we can actually stay home with our daughter and that makes for a pretty full day. Plus, I find it important to note that she’s happy.
Obviously I don’t like her much. Once a week we do Subway cuz we like to stay healthy like that fat kid, Jared. Izzie digs the ceiling fans there. She also likes Jamba Juice. She can tear through an Orange Dream Machine like that fat kid, Jared, tears through a teriyaki chicken 12 inch. In fact, she likes all juices except prune juice and rightfully so. I don’t care if it does help ya poo, the moron who came up with prune juice obviously sucked face with Satan. She loves McNuggets but prefers sweet-potato fries over Mickey D fries. This week she went from consistently hating broccoli to not being able to get enough of it. She loves Chang’s spicy chicken but hates their sweet and sour.
And regardless of the food she receives, or in some cases demands, nothing pleases her more than chasing a well balanced meal with her mother’s milk.
She came up to my office this week to help me play World of Warcraft. Turns out she wasn’t much help but that was okay since her idea of helping is to throw the mouse at the screen.
Several months backs she figured out how to overpower the baby gate protecting the dinning room. Granted most dinning rooms don’t require protection from a baby but we don’t actually eat in there. The cats do. They also poo in there and the idea of walking in to find our daughter playing happily in the cat box with a big long doo hanging from the corner of her mouth is a grim visual to say the least. So we put up a gate and she quickly dissected its defenses.
She never actually made it as far as the cat boxes but she did enjoy splashing in the kitty water bowl. Then, for no apparent reason, she simply forgot how to open the gate. Until tonight. Tonight she broke out (or in rather) three times. Each time we’d pull her out screaming and she’d sit in her room throwing a tennis ball against the wall until we turned our backs. I guess I’ll have to put up a new gate. Or dig my duct tape out of the toolbox.
Back to World of Warcraft, the first issue came out. I was actually up for writer…or perhaps I still am. This all started back before Comicon. My good friend David Wohl had suggested me to the guys at Wildstorm. They told me Walter Simonson would be writing the first storyline but that I would be in the running for the next story arch. I sent in a very detailed outline and was later told that of all the writers who had delivered outlines it was obvious that I had actually played the game. That’s an understatement. But playing the game was an important prerequisit for Blizzard. So my outline along with two others were sent to Blizzard. I felt pretty good about it. Better after I spent time hanging out with Jim Lee at the Lucasarts Comicon party.
Later I learned about the drama. Two months later to be exact. The Wildstorm executive with whom I had been dealing left Wildstorm shortly after Comicon. Hearing this news, I sent an email to his boss who quickly replied. It was a very positive email explaining that no decisions had been made. Blizzard was likely waiting to see how the launch went before committing to more issues after Simonson.
I haven’t heard the sales figures but my local shop sold out the first day. I assume that’s good news. There’s not alot of money in comics, at least not at my level. But I enjoy writing them. And I love playing warcraft so the fun factor stands for something.
Say hello to Gollum. He lives next door. He don’t move much. He don’t move at all in fact. And he never says a word. Which makes him a splendid listener. If you asked Melanie she would tell you that Gollum is nothing more than a dull colored baseball cap hung on a hook inside the neighbor’s bathroom. Poor deluded child.
I miss writing.
I mean, of course, I still write. I’m writing now. And I started planning for this strike ages ago by making friends in both the comic book and video game worlds and as a result I have plenty to keep me busy. But I love writing movies. I miss writing movies.
So for now, Mel and I will keep taking long walks with our daughter. We’ll continue taking late night drives to the 24 hour drive-thru Starbucks, a journey that consists of all three of us singing songs from the Happy Feet soundtrack. Soon we will decorate the tree. Later this month we’ll fly to Florida to watch my youngest brother get hitched. Basically we’ll continue to live life and keep our fingers crossed that the egos in Hollywood might one day sit down over some McNuggets and a Jamba Juice while watching Monsters Inc. and perhaps learn to play nice.
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