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Second Billing to Beef This story was originally written for a Written By Magazine article on failed T.V. shows…..
Second Billing to Beef (My Life Is Crap) I was a stand-up comedian and my professional strategy and motto at the time was, "Just say Yes." I say yes to Butte, Montana three times in the same year. I say yes to Rotary Clubs, bingo nights and the back of a Chinese restaurant. I say yes to working with drag queens, hypnotists, musicians, magicians and cowboys. I wonder why I said yes to Winnipeg in the middle of winter, as I focus my eyes on the frosty hotel billboard, "$11.99 Steak Special-Comedy with Margot Black $8." Second billing to a side of beef. Time for a change. A Fools Folly (My Brilliant Idea) Writing television had been my goal for lifetimes. Trees died, scripts stacked up on my shelves. I couldn't get a foot in the door but at least I'd given myself a fair shot at carpal tunnel syndrome. Eager to stay off the road, I mastered Hollywood Survival Technique 101-the part-time job. I was a part-time teacher's assistant at UCLA in the Entertainment Studies division and ran a comedy lecture series for SAG and AFTRA. I was still naive enough to be optimistic, un-scared and gung-ho. How can I work in television? I know, I'll create my own television show. I decided to write a comedy about money. "Sex is overdone." I declared to friends after much consideration and many cocktails. "Everyone is fascinated by other people's money and nobody is joking about it." Sitting on the floor of my girlfriend's home I scribble the outline for a comedy game show called Stinkin' Rich on the back of a Chinese food take out bag. "A celebration of blatant, garish and ostentatious consumerism. A cross between Life Styles of the Rich and Famous and The Price Is Right." I made a list of everyone I knew in Hollywood (that includes the Daily Grill waiter who once slipped me his tongue and his phone number) and called them. Daily Grill waiter's sister's husband got me my first meeting. Hollywood Is Easy (My New Best Friends) The cable development woman says, "Stinkin' Rich is hilarious but we're not looking for a game show." Development Woman refers me to three other people. I meet those people, they refer me to other people, who refer me to other people-and then one of those other people's people makes me an offer. Not a big offer, but an offer. Heck, I don't even understand the offer, and I think the offer is to keep the show and get rid of me-but who cares-I got an offer. And, I got it in writing. Oh-My-God!!! I got an offer! My inner car salesman kicks into high gear. I call everyone back that I met with and tell them I got an offer. I get three more offers. Now I've got two very credible potential partners and two credible potential production companies-four faxes total. I fondle my folder as I call a mega manager I met filming a Comedy Central short in a meat locker. Mega Manager refers me to a big barracuda lawyer and three big wig agents. He also refers me to another potential partner. Big Barracuda Lawyer listens to my show and takes me on. Big Barracuda's shoes cost more than my mortgage. I meet the other potential partner at her compound. Potential Partner has a husband, an ex-husband, an assistant, a nanny, two kids, two cars, a pool and a guest house. I have a boyfriend and a manila folder. My folder and I meet the only big wig agent who will schedule a meeting that decade. Big Wig listens to my show and laughs. Big belly laughs. He walks me to the elevator and says, "I'd like to be your agent, I'll do great work for you, what do you say?" I say "Yes!" I run to the car to call my dad and screeeeeeeam into the phone as I stare out my window at their multi-million dollar real estate. I am happy to be a cog in the wheel of funding it. Potential partner turns into my actual partner. Big Wig brings in a junior agent who happens to be friends with my new partner. We travel to all our meetings together-a wave of Armani suits and me. I have a posse! Three black BMWs and a ten-year-old green SAAB pull into a mid-sized production company specializing in syndication (Syndication! There's a kidney shaped swimming pool in my future)! We pitch, and two days later they make an offer. We have an appointment scheduled for the next day with a Big Network. Big Agency decides it's best to tell Syndication Man. Syndication Man says, "If you don't take me into that meeting and include me I'll pull out and leave you with nothing." What!? Can he do that? We tell Big Network about Syndication Man and get an additional offer from Big Network. I call my dad and tell him while I surf the net for private islands. Two days later Big Network rescinds Big Offer stating they have a Big Clash with another Big Show and Big Agency is pissed-Big Time!
My partner has no time for me but apparently has time to have drinks with everyone we are working with. I have no idea who is wagging what but meetings happen without me and my phone calls aren't getting returned. She tries to squeeze me out of the show. I'm completely confused and have no idea how the tide's turned. A friend of mine gives me a copy of What Makes Sammy Run. I read it in the bathtub and cry. My partner and I each stage a run through. I go first. Syndication Man is out of town but Big Wig Agent comes and Syndication's Right Hand Man is there. I get, "That's great. Could you punch up the third act a bit?" My partner and her husband are ill prepared and nervous for their run through. Syndication Man attends this one. I cringe as I watch from the side, not sure if I want to vomit or take hostages. They run through a twenty four minute show in under fifteen minutes, leaving out a large part of the second and third rounds. The notes come back, "We love the title but don't like the show." There is no third run through. Big Wig came to both run throughs. After the second run through he walks me to my car and I burst into tears. "I'll find you a new partner." he says. I construct a shrine to him in my living room. Kinetic Control, Cocktails and a Kick In the Calendar (My Show's a Go) I make a couple of overly enthusiastic phone calls to my agent and then go back to part-time work and practicing kinetic control over inanimate objects ("ring damn phone, ring!"). A couple of months later Big Wig calls me at 9:30 pm. "I just met a development woman at a cocktail party. There's a new network being announced, they're in town looking for product. I got you an appointment tomorrow at 10 am, they're leaving for New York at three-can you do it? I have a gynecologist appointment and an interview to write freelance bullshit for Blue Shield, but I could juggle my busy schedule. Big Wig brings a new junior agent to the meeting. I pitch the show and in the room they say, "YES!!!!" New Network Woman asks me if I could deliver the pilot within five weeks, they need it for some cable announcement thingy. I really have no idea what she said, all I heard was, "Yes." I look over at Big Wig and he gives me subtle nod. I say, "Sure, no problem." No problem my ass. Next week is Christmas. And then New Years. My agency is closed for the next two weeks. My datebook ticks like a time bomb. "Congratulations, Slugger, you hit a home run." Big Wig says, adorably giddy as he hands me the name and phone number of the vacation villa he'll be in with his family for the next two weeks. From Gucci to Circle K: A Pilot Is Born (My Costa Rica Connection) New Junior Agent Man becomes my go-to guy. He just became an agent having spent the last few years in production. I'm his first deal, it's my first show, he's got production experience and a sense of humor-it's a nice combo and we get along great. He introduces me to several new partners and I find one that fits 4 pm, Christmas Eve. New Partner will be able to start working with me the second week of January. We toast our new partnership with eggnog lattes. I have reason to celebrate. I got a license fee deal. I'm not sure exactly what it is but I know it's a big deal and I just inherited a lot of risk and responsibility. A year ago my greatest showbiz concern was could I sell tee shirts after a performance? Now my fine print has fine print. Big Barracuda Lawyer tells me I won't be profitable to him under this arrangement and he has no interest in hand-holding me through this process. He dumps me in the middle of contract negotiations. My deal can't close. I stick pins in my voodoo doll and add "find new lawyer" to my two-thousand-page "to do" list. My boyfriend and I plan to spend part of the holidays visiting my parents in their brand new home. They live at the bottom of a National Park-it's a 10-mile drive to the nearest human. We get there and they have one phone line, no fax. I pay the guy at the local Circle K $25 bucks a day to receive faxes. I spend the vacation week in my dad's home talking to New Junior Agent Man at his mom's home. My agent explains I still don't have much of anything until I can secure my talent. I need a Beverly Hills Type Female Guest Star and a Rich Man Celebrity Announcer. And I need them yesterday. My first L.A. landlord used to walk dogs for a Beverly Hills celebrity. I call her and she tells me she has the dogs right now-Beverly Hills Celebrity is on vacation in Costa Rica. I fax L.A. landlord the script, she reads it, calls Costa Rica and Beverly Hills Celebrity agrees to read show. I fax script to Costa Rica. My parents' phone rings in the middle of the night-Costa Rica calling. Beverly Hills Celebrity would like to participate. "How much does it pay?" she asks. My meager budget sounds insulting, but I realize it would sound much better as a Gucci shopping spree. "It pays a Gucci shopping spree and a limo will pick you up. You'll be my first guest if I get picked-up and you'll have my un-ending gratitude forever." Beverly Hills Celebrity cuts her vacation short and returns to Los Angeles to do my pilot. I call a Rich Celebrity Announcer Man's Agent in New York. We know each other from the stand-up world. He's leaving the next evening for Brazil for two weeks and his client is in Anguilla. I e-mail him the script and he forwards it to his client vacationing in Anguilla. I get a two word fax from Rich Celebrity Man in Anguilla, "I'm in." I call his agent and we negotiate the terms. I spend the next 14 hours with my cell phone in the back room at Circle K hovering over the fax machine. The clerk and owner take to checking on me periodically. Hot dogs appear, "Hey, Showbiz, eat something." By 11:30 pm the next night the talent deals are done. I got a show. My dad, stepmom and boyfriend arrive to pick me up. They bring champagne and caviar for everyone. We turn up the music, drink and dance to disco at the Circle K. New Partner returns to town and guides me through the production process like a Master. I am honored and touched by his professionalism, enthusiasm and generosity. There are a thousand other trials and tribulations, but in the end, after countless late nights and extraordinary teamwork, we make it through. We shoot the pilot, deliver it on time, and get announced at the cable thingy as the Top Five Picks for Pick-up. My deal still hasn't closed. Facing Facts and Faxes (My Big Finish) I find a new lawyer and three months, six trees and ten million faxes later, the deal closes. I can feel the heat leaving like a death trip in a hot air balloon. A month later they test the pilot. I get a call from my Big Wig Agent, "Testing was okay but the network has decided to change direction and won't be needing it." "Are we going to try again?" I ask. Big Wig says, " No. We did this one. Let's do a new one." Simple as that. It's over. I cry to my girlfriend she says "Don't be silly, you did great. Chin up, tits out." Chin Up, Tits Out (My New Outlook) There's a T.S. Elliot quote on my refrigerator that says, "Only those who risk going too far can find out how far one can go." I recently helped someone else write and sell their first show. I watched him go through the eye of his hurricane and wanted to hold him in the fetal position and say, "It's okay, I know the pain, I know the fear, I know the responsibility." But it's not possible. It's part of the process, part of the deal. His pilot aired but didn't get picked-up. "Hey," I tried to cheer him up, "You got on the air. Your first failure was better than my first failure." Throughout the process I learned to trust my instincts. I learned to say, "No." "No" to bad people and bad ideas. I learned an honest "no" is always more valuable than a dishonest "yes." And finally, I learned to hold my head up and smile with my chin up and my tits out when I say "Yup, I failed."
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