The Writing Gig

EDWIN
Yeah, pretty intense shit. So, a few years ago I started telling people that he had a pig heart.

BECKY
(loud laughing)
Why?

EDWIN
I don’t know. I mean I read some article about how pig organs are theoretically the most interchangeable with human organs. I just ran with it, I guess.

BECKY keeps laughing.

EDWIN (CONT’D)
The best part is that most people don’t know their shit and give me this blank stare for a while before I have to tell them that I’m kidding.

BECKY turns to MITCH.

BECKY
(loud)
I never knew about your pig heart!



I am doing some serious rewrites. Forgetting Sarah Marshall was actually incredible. Yeah, I know, right?

Alright, you know what actually bothers me about the whole writing gig? You ready for a little arrogance? Good. I actually think I'm a pretty good writer. I do. It may not be reflected in the passage above, but I am confident that I can make an extremely comfortable living as a writer.

It's the drive. I can watch a movie or TV show that inspires me for a day or week, but never for a longer stretch of time. My most productive period was when I was writing for a grad school deadline. That's really frustrating. I have all of these free-flowing ideas that I should be capitalizing on, but I usually don't unless I have this sense of urgency like, "Hey John, there are some really funny, really talented people out there writing up a storm and there's nothing in the goddamned universe you can do to stop them."

That, friends, is the long and short of my lingering fear about my chosen career path. Is there a pill I can take? Is there a libation I can consume?

THANKSEVERYBODYBYEEEEEE.



"Daisies of the Galaxy"
Eels