This journal documents the author's experiences as a television writer. To read the story from its inception, go to the beginning.

September 4, 2001

Two tin cans and a very long piece of string
It has been nearly two weeks since I mailed our signed contracts to my agent and I have heard nary a peep. Tomorrow I will make the call. Drop the dime. Let my digits fly. Of course, I fear the worst:

"Hello Hutch? This is tv writer."
"Darling! How are you? How's New York?"
"Uh, great. I was wondering if you got the contracts."
"We got them sweetie. There's a problem."
tv writer makes a faint gurgling noise.
"When Starsky and I asked you and your partner to sign with us, we had every intention of going into business with you guys. But we can only handle so many writers, and the opportunity has arisen for us to sign former president Clinton."
"President Clinton is going to write sitcoms?"
"He's being fast-tracked with a development deal."
Paramedics rush in and intubate tv writer.

Earlier today I ran into an actress friend who was in a foul mood. She works primarily as a feature film extra or stand-in (someone who, prior to filming a scene, stands where an actor will be performing for the camera while technicians focus lights and solve technical problems). Unfortunately, the studios, fearing an actors' strike, rushed a gazillion pictures into production this past spring, and now, with a backlog of celluloid waiting to be released, there is very little film production taking place in New York City. She ended her tale of starvation with "my backup plan is to hope I die before my money runs out."

And that's when it hit me: I don't have a backup plan.

So tomorrow I will call.

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� 2001 - 2002 tv writer. All rights reserved.