Whoop Dee Doo

I feel so bad, the co-writer of my romcom is so stoked about sending billionaire Mark Cuban a query letter (by courier, mind you; see below). However, I could care less, really. Unless, of course, Cuban requests our screenplay, then I’ll show a little excitement. Until then, I don’t mean to be like a dead horse, but I’ve been marketing my work a lot. Just because you send a letter out don’t mean diddly squat. If they request your script, it still don’t mean diddly squat. Only when there’s a check in the mail does it mean anything.

My co-writer has been talking about sending Cuban a letter for probably a year now, God bless ‘em, and he finally followed through on it. About fricken’ time! Unfortunately, he hasn’t been too involved in screenwriting since we wrote our script together, yikes, like two years ago already. He has his excuses, er, reasons. Whatever. If you want to be a screenwriter, you have to put 150% into it. I’ve told him that. Or else it ain’t gonna happen. But it always falls on deaf ears. And there’s no guarantees it’s going to happen when you devote your life to it, either. But like I said, it ain’t gonna happen at all unless you eat, breathe, shit screenwriting. Period.