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January 05, 2006
Possibilities.
I had a job interview this morning. I got up, showered, shaved and put on clean clothes first thing. Normally, I usually shower just before I prepare to leave the house on an errand. The life of a fledgling freelance writer is glamorous, no?
I wore a navy shirt with a vaguely Indian print, a pair of Levi's, black loafers, no socks, and my crepe Versace jacket. The 4-button is a relic of days gone by, the Internet boom years when office parties offered bellinis instead of Bud Lite. I don't have a closet full of such clothes; the jacket's versatility provides myriad sartorial pleasures.
I was comfortable in my duds, but I was nervous nonetheless.
I am qualified for the position, no question. I offered the interviewer a laundry list of ideas to help redefine and expand their product offerings, and he seemed receptive and enthusiastic. By interview's end, he'd transcribed each of my suggestions onto three pages in his notepad.
But I was still a mite unsettled. I've never worn jeans to a job interview, something I hadn't thought much about until I was pushing open their office door. I was raised to believe denim is for "play time," not for making First Impressions. Hell, if they hire me (and I accept), I'll expect to be wearing jeans at least four days out of every five. Why shouldn't they see me in my element?
Today, the jeans were just a representation of my ambivalence. I was comfortable enough to walk in, confidently express my qualifications, and engage the hiring manager in easy conversation. I made him picture me at the vacant desk adjacent to his office, Making Things Happen.
In the past, I'd have worn some pressed khakis, socks and a tie to signify a professional demeanor, a nod toward the sort of presentation my dad and yours might appreciate. But I can do some damn fine work wearing blue cotton pants with rivets and orange stiching. I've always resented dressing up for interviews in clothes I'd never wear to the job.
On the way out, it occurred to me that I was so relaxed because I was entirely divorced from the outcome.
After I got home, I had an extended chat with my agent in LA. We haven't signed any papers yet, but I'm gonna start calling him my agent anyway. He worked with me to refine the script and is planning to begin marketing it early next month.
Here's the process he nutshelled: he works the phone and calls production companies on a Friday. They take all weekend to think it over and call on Monday to request a copy of the script. Some producers take a night to read it, and some take two days, but offers are usually made within 24-72 hours or so.
By the following weekend, the script is being sent to the studios where the producers have distribution deals. A script sale can come as early as the following week.
I kept asking him how the process would play out assuming we got to a certain stage, and he urged me to be a little more optimistic, noting that mine is "one of the most marketable scripts [he'd] read in a very long time."
Still, it's a spec script, and there are no guarantees. He seems very bullish that I can turn it into meetings with producers sometime next month, so that's nice. We shall see.
I'm getting my jacket dry-cleaned, just in case.
Posted by Your Protagonist at January 5, 2006 02:36 PM