I Will Not Write Your Fucking Script

So, yeah, like everyone else I read Josh Olson's blog about how he won't read anyone's fucking script. And like everyone else I found it funny, and true and I patted myself on the back because he validated me in sort of an off-handed way. He said that a real writer cannot be dissuaded from writing by anyone. Let me tell you, brothers and sisters, that's me in a nutshell. I'm like the Job of Screenwriters. I scream to the Heavens, "Oh Hollywood, why hast thou forsaken me?"

Hollywood doesn't answer. Just gives me more boils or infections or broken generators.

So I've made a decision. If Hollywood is going to forsake me, then I'm going to forsake it right back. I make a pledge right now, with the whole internet as my witness, that I will NEVER write an assignment for a studio. I don't care how big the paycheck is, I don't care who the director is, I don't care how many times those clowns in the Armani suits tell me they want to be in the John Ray Hax business, I will not succumb.

Bite me, Hollywood. I will not write your fucking script.

J. Ray Hax

The Shroud Graphic Novel

Like every other geek in the world, I am heading down to San Diego on Saturday to partake in the Nerd Prom, a.k.a. Comic Con. However, this year is going to be different because I'm not just going as a fan who's hoping to get his picture taken with Jessica Alba. This year I'm going as a bona fide Creator with a capital "C" because I'm going with my new graphic novel, the Shroud!

That's right, boys and ghouls, I figured with all the comics to film hullaballoo that's going on right now, the best way to ensure that the Shroud actually gets made into a film is if I turned it into a comic book first. So, that's what I have decided to do. I will bring the Shroud to life as a prestige format graphic novel. Of course, I don't have an artist, a publisher or even a completed script, but I don't think that matters. What's that old story about how Joe Eszterhas sold the idea for one of his movies on a cocktail napkin? I think that's how it works at Comic Con. I'm just going to go around to all the publishers like Marvel and DC and pitch them the high concept. I have no doubt that the publishers will see the untapped millions in merchandising that the Shroud offers. I've been hearing a lot about this dude, Jeff Katz and his company American Apparel. Maybe I'll try to hook up with him.

Look for me down there, guys. I'm the dude with the goatee and a shaved head to hide my male pattern baldness and I'll be wearing all black. I should be pretty easy to spot.

JRH

Agent of the Devil

Got an email from my agent this morning. Apparently we are "moving in different directions". Yes, that is correct, he dropped me. Through email. I guess I should be happy that he didn't do it on Twitter. I have a hunch that this is all because I didn't want to chase after his stupid Leprechaunaconda movie. He was always telling me that a job is a job, and in the current economic climate blah blah blah. I don't write for money. I don't write for fame. I write because I must. I don't have the luxury of being able to turn off my creativity.

He will, no doubt, call me again when my spec sells for seven figures and I will tell him that I will take him back as soon as he delivers to me certain photographic evidence of him in a menage-a-trois with a genuine Leprechaun and an anaconda.

So, needless to say, I am looking for new representation. If anyone out there knows of an agent that isn't a bumbling, slobbering sycophant with a perpetual Appletini in his/her  hand, please point them in my direction. I should have a new spec for them to peddle in the near future.

Thoughts on The Business

My agent has been pestering me about my progress with the script, and by "pestering me" I mean "not returning my phone calls." However, I managed to reach him in his office today after repeatedly spelling my name to his assistant. "Johnny, baby!" my agent exclaimed as soon as he got on the line. "How's it hanging?"

I detest that sort of vulgar small talk, so I immediately began explaining my idea of turning my ongoing screenplay into a franchise of films, related book adaptations and merchandising tie-in foam puppets and latex novelty items. After several minutes, I had to put more quarters into the Liquor Emporium payphone, and my agent took advantage of the resulting pause in my discourse to change the subject. "Listen, John," he said. "There's a hot new writing assignment I'd like you to take a meeting on."

"Haven't you been listening?" I nearly shouted into the greasy phone receiver. "I'm hard at work here on a screenplay that's going to change the very concept of entertainment as we know it! It's like 'Titanic' meets the Bible! I cannot possibly halt my progress for anything, much less the sort of trivial, demeaning script assignments that my spec will render irrelevant to the world!"

"This would be a paid writing assignment," my agent emphasized. When I was quiet, he said, "John, are you still there?"

"I'm listening," I said.

"Great, I thought you'd run out of quarters again. It's a genre project, a fusion of two big brand titles that the studio just acquired, and they're currently looking for writers to pitch takes the story. You ready for this? 'Leprechaun vs. Anaconda.'"

"Well, that actually presents a fascinating dynamic, as leprechauns are supernatural..." I started to say, then stopped myself before I could go further. "No, dammit! Nothing will delay my work on 'The Shroud!' Not a broken generator, not a hand injury and certainly not a 'Leprechaun' sequel!"

"Actually, they said they'd prefer for the pitch to follow the continuity of the 'Anaconda' series," my agent said, but I didn't hear anything after that. I really had run out of quarters that time.

As I left the Liquor Emporium with my environmentally conscious canvas grocery bag bulging, I fumed over the callous insensitivity of the business, and the effect it might have on an artistic type with anything less than my confidence and stamina. To be diverted by such meddlesome inconsequentialities when one is hard at work on the next major work that will change the landscape of narrative art! I mean, was Charles Dickens asked to consider a 'Leprechaun' sequel? Was Proust? Was Shakespeare?

Well, they would understand the insults I had suffered at the hands of their casual ignorance soon enough. Soon they would realize the level of genius they had been neglecting, even as it flourished under their very nose like some sort of hardy desert foliage that needs very little water to survive!

Fools!