I like to think that I don’t self-promote myself to the point of annoyance. I do not, for instance, gush over the tiniest details of any of the projects that I have in the works with people – even friends – who aren’t involved in them. I have a select cadre of readers who have asked me if they could look at what I was working on and I relented to their requests after some hemming and hawing. Despite – or because of – my marketing job, my tendency is never to market myself. I like talking to people and learning stuff. I already know a lot about me, so why bring that topic up unless someone asks?
I wonder sometimes if I’m doing this wrong.
When I go to cons, I’m assaulted by people who want to know if I’ve heard of Widgetman or want to read about sexy adventures or would like to learn more about radioactive space lemurs who fight President Obama on the plains of Acheron to decide the fate of the next Cocoon film. They want me to write about them without even knowing what I write or for whom. They give me things that I attempt to read but never blog about because of how uniformly bad they are. 2009 is the year of Jeff Being Positive, so I’m certainly not going to descend to that level now.
At least not while indulging in the damning details of things.
Last night, I was in the comic shop chatting with my Comic Book Guy when one of the browsers in the shop, a tall brunette wearing scrubs, asked me if that was Batman. Following her pointing index finger, I saw that she was looking at an Avengers t-shirt and told the woman that the person in question was Black Panther and not Batman. Dejected, she wanted to know if Batman and Spider-Man have ever appeared together in a comic book. I start to explain that Spider-Man is owned by Marvel and Batman is owned by DC and although there have been a scant few interpublisher crossovers yadda yadda yadda (I tend to get my lecture on; I can’t help it), but before I can even finish, I’m being interrupted by this woman telling me every single detail of her screenplay and telling me the story of why she needs to know this information, including copious name dropping. I won’t go into detail on the plot or characters or unlikely celebrity cameos, but I will say the following:
1. What was described to me was shallow and insipid, with a plot that verges on nonexistent.
2. The work, as pitched to me, had a concept predicated on a ham-handed and ill-fitting metaphor.
3. There is a dearth, that is to say a scarcity, of character development.
4. One of the characters is “perfect for Chris Tucker,” in the words of the author.
I can be charitable. It’s possible that this screenplay could be excellent. That there are hidden complexities that a thirty minute talk cannot uncover. Because 2009 is the year of Jeff Being Positive, I want all this to be true. I doubt, however, that it is.
I’m hitting publish now, and going back to a script that involves werewolves and electric guitars. I say this to highlight my hypocrisy.
{ 5 comments… read them below or add one }
Holy crap! You met Stephenie Mayer at your comics shop!??!
I strongly believe that if your screen play was one page long and it only had one line of “action” and that line was:
Werewolves play electric guitars for 90 minutes.
That your screen play would be better than anything the woman in your post could ever hope to achieve.
Was this woman asking for seed money to get the project made? Because that would be female empowerment at its finest. “You know what I’m going to do? Go down to the comic shop and bilk lonely, desperate men out of their money to fund my screenplay!”
Not that I’m saying you are either lonely or desperate. I’m just sayin’.
And you may mock, but that script idea might be next years big summer blockbuster. After all, Chris Tucker does have a career to speak of in the city.
Bill, I’ll give you a call later and explain the bloody details to you. Because I want to quash your diabolic advocacy.
Werewolves and electric guitars? That sounds like that one Prime Time Adventurers game.