Every Wednesday, the guy and I go out. We call it Wednesdate. Adorable, right? Have you vomited?
This week, we went to Winghouse for dinner. OKAY, I know I should be all feministy or whatever. But... I really, really desire their buffalo chicken sandwich. I crave it all the time. And so I put hesitation in my pocket, and we go in our nice work clothes and sit there and NOM THAT SANDWICH TILL IT'S GONE. The chicken doesn't stand a chance, and thems the facts. So deal.
Anyway, we then went to the movies and saw Limitless. The film stars the Smexy Bradley Cooper, so I was like, "Woo!" It wasn't bad. A killer concept -- would you take a pill that made you smarter and faster and better, if it shortened your life? It meandered a little, but I can handle that.
There were other problems, though. Of the writerly variety.
1. The premise is that Smexy Bradley Cooper is a broke-ass fiction writer with a book deal and an advance who HASN'T WRITTEN A SINGLE WORD. His deadline is looming, and lo appears a magic pill. Right.
Can I get an amen from my writers that you don't get an advance and a contract without having written so much as a sneeze on the page? That's like someone being all, "Yo, RANDOM HOUSE! I have a totes awesome idea, and you should pay me for it. Don't worry, I'm cool, just ignore these infectious bug bites."
They could have solved the problem by saying he was established and this was his new book or something. But dudes, this guy was TORE UP FROM THE FLOOR UP. He was not on his third bestseller. Even non-fiction projects requires a big freaking proposal and at least a sample chapter. I wrote one. It's hard. But this homeboy just had a screen with a cursor.
I haven't read the novel The Dark Fields, the basis for the movie. Maybe this doesn't happen there? Maybe this is a problem invented by screenwriters who ain't got no clue? I dunno.
2. When Smexy Bradley Cooper is a struggling writer, he looks like total crap. Oh good, here's a screen shot.
My eyes! He's packing a scraggly ponytail, some skin problems of great concern and mega-grossy fingernails. He is also covered in random band-aids. Band-aids! Now, we writers have not topped a lot of 50 Most Beautiful People lists. I get that. But some of us do take pride in our looks. For the most part, we all know how to take showers (water, soap, towel). And we are not oozing with open wounds, unless we have just been rejected for the 80th time and have subsequently smashed our face into the drywall.
3. When Smexy Bradley Cooper is in his nasty writer phase, he gets all his business calls on a home phone. No cell. Even the homeless people I know have cell phones, and that's not an exaggeration. Someone with an advance on an imaginary book (hah) could at least get himself one of those pre-paid jobbies the 12-year-olds get from Best Buy.
Other than that, totally see it!