My friend Steve and I have been writing a screenplay for many years, and we are in the clubhouse turn of finishing it. Real life has interrupted our flow, but every time we regroup, we find something else to recharge the batteries of creativity.
The story is about someone in television whose reality is more entertaining than the reality show she produces. It was an idea borne of the days when I thought I would leave sports to make a run in other kinds of programming. I still just do sports, but if there is anything that has a real chance of ever being sold, this script would be it.
Okay, I will brag a little. (I'm entitled.) Some of the scenes in this script are easily the most outrageous things you would ever see in a movie. There is one sexy scene where the moans come from a place one would never guess. It's not something sick, just very very clever in these days. And the commercial takeoff that begins the movie is so real, it would scare you into believing that someone would be crass enough to introduce a product like that.
My love for writing began with my Dad, who could write letter like no one else I have ever known. I have been told that I inherited his knack for the written word, and for that, I will be forever thankful.
The turning point in my love for comedy writing came in 1992 when Scott Hudson (former WCW announcer) and Steve Prazak joined me in a venture called the Shenanumake Post. Simply stated, the Post was the Mad Magazine for the insider's world of professional wrestling. I believe we may have had maybe 40-60 paid readers, but the number of people who have told us they read it number in the hundreds. It was the kind of publication that would be copied and passed around locker rooms and rent-a-cars by the wrestlers themselves as they went from town to town.
For example, our year end issue was in June. We had results from all over the independent wrestling world, where the name of every promotion, arena and 80 percent of the wrestlers were made up in the spot. One of the promotions: They've come to kill the Rooster. The arenas: The Hermione Gingold Arena, The Larry Storch Sports Porch, and the Donnie Most Pavillion. Some of my favorite wrestlers: Clamidia Randolph, The Preverbal Pharton Hurle.
Our writing sessions were, and still are, among the best times of my life. The laughs we shared, the emotions we transcribed, the jokes we told, would be best kept in a treasure chest of memories.
We were far from done with our creativity when my life took a turn and I moved from Atlanta to Seattle, thus ending the run of the Post. Every time there is a conversation between any two of us, we always come up with something that would be great "for the January Issue," which if ever published with all those thoughts from the last decade+ would fill many volumes. One of these days, I might have to see if I could figure out a way to republish them as they are as fresh today as they were back then.
So if you ever wondered why I write this blog, now you know. I just live to type until my carpal tunnel acts up. With no idea of how many people actually read these, I might just be typing to myself, but the joy I get out of the process is very nourishing.
Now as long as my personal trainer says it's not part of the foods to avoid, I'll keep going. And even if he does, screw it, I am not giving this one up!
Good night, Pepsi. I miss you!
Yours truly,
Johnny Blogger
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