Greg's Blurty

The Next One I'm Not Going To Write
I don't do much television. I've dabbled in it over the years, creating the odd series here and there when the inspiration struck and it was fun, but that was all it ever was to me: Much more hobby than business.

All that's changing now because I've become a victim of my own success. Actually, I'm a victim twice over. And it's all because New Yorkication, my very cleverly titled, brutally funny, super humanly profound sequel to Californication was such a huge smash hit.

The first way that I was a victim is the pressure they put on me to do more. It came from everyone: my people, the people behind Californication (If you ever happen to need them, they answer to, "Mr. Duchovny," it's the same kind of deal with Coast To Coast AM, you can waste all the time you want going through all the official channels and you can convince George and Ian of anything but none of it counts until you convince Mr. Bell that it's a good idea, so you might as well start there and try not to tick him off first by refusing to talk about the good parts of your book on the air because that makes things really difficult) and the executives at Showtime.

They tried everything. They begged and pleaded and threatened (Drusilla, my agent, did most of the threatening but there were also these big guys in black suits and I'm pretty sure I know who sent them even though Dave claims that he knew nothing about them). Then they tried bribery. They drove truckloads of cash up here (Dru said that I would get $100 of it once she took care of the shipping and handling fees), bus loads of girls (Suzette called them Bimbos but consider the source, she can't stand the thought of me having any kind of fun at all), yachts (Dru said I could even ride on one of them on my birthday), cars (Dru said I couldn't touch the Ferraris, Lamborghinis and Porsches but the 1973 Pinto could be all mine) and tons more really cool stuff. They stopped at nothing. The Showtime guys even apologized for canceling Dead Like Me.

It was like a Price Is Right Showcase in here. But I was firm and said no to all of it. I had my hit series and that was enough for me until I had my next great TV idea but I would not force myself to do it just to do it and all was well. Then, while I was here, researching at the library and attending church, someone who looks and sounds just like me went to Las Vegas with the Californication people, the Showtime people, a few more bus loads of girls and my staff and got all liquored up and signed a deal to create six more series.

This guy is a master forger, too, because so far, eight of the best handwriting experts in the world have testified that it is my signature on the contract. And three of them are on my payroll! So I said, "Why don't you go track down the drunken fool who's out there impersonating me and harass him into creating six more series for you?"

Dave pulled me aside and said, "Look, man, you're good. You can do this. All we want is six more series. You can keep writing, producing and directing New Yorkication. Just create six new ones and we'll pick new people to do all the actual work and you keep artistic control. What more could you want?"

"That's not the point and you know it," I replied. "What I want is to not be pressured. When you put a time table on it, I can no longer do it."

He shook his head and changed tactics and started playing dirty. "What about me?" He asked. "Don't you love the X-Files? Don't you love Californication? Don't you think you owe me something for that? And if you don't, fine. Screw me! I'm just a nothing two bit actor who doesn't matter at all to you and I can live with that. But how about Fox? What about Hank? If you won't do it for me, do it for Fox. Do it for Hank."

"That's not fair," I said.

Then he dropped the big one. "Do it for Dana. Do it for Karen."

"That really really isn't fair, Dave."

"You wanna talk about fairness?" He asked. "I have a sex addiction and a hit series that requires me to have sex all the time. What's fair about that? But you don't see me whining about it, do you? I should be in therapy right now but instead I have to waste all this time begging you to do what you already should have done."

"Oh, yeah!" I said. "I've been wanting to talk to you about the sex addiction thing. Could you go sneeze or cough on Suzette for a while?"

He looked at me like I was crazy for a minute and then said, "What's wrong with you? Why don't you just go to a diabetic ward and pass out Eskimo Pies?"

We then argued for over an hour over whether or not sex addiction is contagious. And then I agreed that he was pathetic and that I would create the remaining series left on the contract that I didn't even sign. And, next time, I'll tell you what the next series is going to be but right now I have to go find Suzette and check to see if I was right about sex addiction being contagious.

Current Mood: depressed
Current Music: Coast To Coast AM----Sunday September 7th, 2008