The Business of Screenwriting: The Phone Call

“They want your script.”

It’s 10:00AM, Monday, January 19, 1987. I pile into my ten-year-old beat-up Ford filled with the gear of my trade: guitar, amplifier, PA system and speakers, suitcase, and most importantly a big trunk in which I have all my props, and a dolly to move said trunk up and down nightclub stairs.

I key the ignition — never sure if the car will start or not. This morning, it does. I have a 6 hour drive ahead of me from Berkeley, where I live with my wife of eighteen months as she completes her B.A. at Cal, and Southern California where I will be performing for the next six weeks, four nights a week in Ventura, three nights in Thousand Oaks.

Two year ago, I switched my act from musician to musician-comedian for reasons that still aren’t entirely clear to me. Yes, I’m funny, and I’ve made a living, such as it is, performing in a blur of clubs. But is this really what I want to be doing with my life?

Fortunately, there is this other thing I’ve discovered: screenwriting.

For the last year, I have traveled up and down the state performing in clubs all over southern and northern California, but my creative focus has been on learning the craft of screenwriting. I’ve written two bad scripts, but this third one feels like a winner. It’s called K-9. The idea is inspired by the story of a Ventura County policeman whose canine police partner was shot and killed in the line of duty. When I met with the cop, a burly guy with…