MORE LESSONS LEARNED

As I writer, my craft is done, for the most part, without the assistance of others. It is only during the review and editing phase by a publisher that feedback and direction is given. However, when writing in collaboration with one or more people, especially when you do not have complete creative control, conflicts can ensue.

I recently VOLUNTEERED my talents as a scriptwriter for a couple of local young men attempting to pitch a show to the community cable company. Although I had promised to write a complete thirty page shooting script PRO-BONO, I still had my career to consider when attaching my name to any project. Success or failure, my involvement would follow me.

A roughed out concept, a list of characters and ideas is all I had to go on. The concept has been done, repeatedly, in the last few years so fresh ideas needed to be injected. The characters were two dimensional. The dialogue, hackneyed and there was no plot whatsoever. In order to resurrect a dead dog, I had to inject bold new concepts into the project, which were immediately dismissed. Oh, not simply dismissed, but rudely insulted. I was given no creative license and told that my contribution didn't matter.

My time writing is worth $30/hour. It would have taken about fifteen hours to complete the script, thus, I was willing to donate $450.00 worth of my services to this project free of charge. Apparently, my contribution was not good enough for these boys.

Lesson learned. I excused myself from the project, wished them well, and went about my way. I was so insulted and infuriated that I bought a pack of cigarettes. I had quite eleven months previous. Smoking those five cigarettes, before flushing the rest, did nothing to calm the slight against me. The only way to soothe my troubles was, of course, to write.


UNTITLED

Leonardo Da Vinci was commissioned to paint a fresco for a well known architect. When shown sketches of the master's work the architect became belligerent and insulting.

"No. NO. NO! This bird must be this way. You can't use the color red! It must be exactly the way I tell you! Who are you to alter what I tell you?" The architect said.

"Good sir. If I cannot paint your fresco exactly to your vision, why do you not paint it yourself?" The master humbly asked.

"Are you stupid? I am a great architect. Not a lowly painter!" The architect raged. "Fine. I will show you. I will paint my magnificent fresco!"

Three weeks later the architect threw a party to unveil his great work. Royalty, wealthy business men and other respected artisans were invited to marvel at his genius.

Thick felt curtains were pulled back, revealing a gross caricature of distorted forms in garish color and texture. The architect beamed proudly while his guests stared in horror.

When news of the architect's humiliation reached Da Vinci, he felt pity for his hubris and immediately sent a letter of consolation.

The next day, outside of the master's studio, the architect was found shouting and cursing Da Vinci. Pride and arrogance drove him to spiteful madness. Because of his public display, the architect was not able to find work. A year later his coffers were empty. The once great architect was forced to sell his properties to pay his debts and to take up a new profession, picking stones from plow-fields.

THE END


Never again will I offer my services without contract or agreement for pay and especially not without creative license.