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Posted on 01/21/2003 7:24:24 AM PST by FreeperJunkie
Some parental sacrifices are a lot more difficult than others.
A few years ago, the sitcom I was writing for, "House Rules" on NBC, was cancelled. No big deal, they say you're nobody in this business unless you've been cancelled, fired, and paid a ridiculous amount of money for nothing. I was one out of three. On my way.
But while on hiatus (that's what they call it in show business whether you have work to return to or not) we had child number one. A boy. Kids, you surely know, change your outlook on life. I spent five years trying to break into the entertainment industry, and nothing was going to stop me. Then came this little package of life.
Sitcoms require a tremendous amount of time. By their very nature, you will work late hours. Every day, there's a run-through, whether it's for the network, the studio or just the writing staff. The actors go through the script, on stage, around 4 p.m. Many notes are taken. Then the writing staff takes the notes and re-writes the script based upon the notes. That can easily take you into the early morning hours. When the actors awake in the morning, they have a new script on their doorsteps.
And the process begins again. Most shows have couches in the offices - a place to sleep.
This is survivable if you don't have kids. If you do, prepare to rarely see them. One sitcom writing friend of mine explained that "it's not so important to see your kids when their young. They'll need you more when they're older."
I held this little boy in my arms and knew that advice was hogwash.
So I called my agent. I had a feeling he'd understand. After all, he had a family, too. "I can't work any shows that only give a 6 week commitment," I explained. "I have a family now and need more stability."
He swore at me.
It didn't go over as well as I'd hoped. Regardless, I continued, my words coming out a little less confident than I'd rehearsed. "I can't work on a show that works seven days a week and late into the evening."
He swore at me again. "I can't send you out, then" he bluntly explained. By "sending" me out, he means send my scripts to potential show bosses. "I can't tell them you won't work normal hours. I'd look like an idiot." Okay, he didn't use the word "idiot." He went on, his volume picking up, "Do you want to be a sitcom writer or not? I've invested a lot of time in you." He hadn't, but agents like to believe they create writers. Then he swore some more - stringing together expletives like his hand was on fire.
"How'd it go?" my wife asked later.
"Fine."
What had I done? I spent countless hours honing my skills to write for television. I get there, finally, only to give it up?
I believed God must be preparing a miracle. I'll get on one of those extremely rare shows that don't work late into the evening, like "Everybody Loves Raymond." But my agent simply never sent me out. I was pretty much done.
The requested miracle didn't come through. God had another plan.
Now that I had a child, I noticed what they were being offered for entertainment. Not much of value. So I began work on my own project - a children's radio show that had value and humor. God showed me those skills I developed wouldn't be wasted. As the saying goes, I learned to use my power for good, not evil.
I created a show called The Pond (www.lifeatthepond.com). As you've all painfully discovered, when a child likes something, they listen over and over and over. And when a child listens, the parents are forced to listen as well. So I used what I learned in writing comedy for adults to entertain the parents.
The show's been on the air a year and comes out in the stores in April. And, more importantly, I see my kids (yes, there are two, now) every day. I enjoy this time so much, it hurts to think I could have risked missing them. No amount of money, no amount of success can buy even one hug.
My sitcom friend who advised me not to worry about my children when they're young has kids in high school, now. Based on what he's told me, I believe he'd do anything to get those lost years back.
The hugs that come from a toddler every morning don't last forever. The window of opportunity when your children will pet their first cat, feel their first raindrop and catch their first ball is very, very small. You simply don't want to miss any of them.
Later, when I look through the family pictures of my kids as toddlers, I won't be thinking "Gee, I could have made so much money had I not been there for them." Instead, I'll see the memories I shared.
HAH! I know what he means by that... heh..
Maybe you can try the following links:
24-hour stay-in centre for babies (As in drop off your baby on Monday morning and pick it up on Friday evening).
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