Laurence Fishburne is the Coolest

Greetings. I am Morpheus. And I know what you’re all thinking:

 

“Come on, THE MATRIX was ten years ago! Why are you fanboys STILL referencing it??”

 

To which I have two responses:

 

1)       Can you believe that THE MATRIX was released almost TEN YEARS AGO?! God I’m old;

 

2)       I am not a crazed fanboy; my Morpheus reference makes perfect sense, and I’ll explain why.

 

Morpheus is the teacher, the mentor of the chosen one. Same goes for Obi-Wan. (I realize I’m digging myself even deeper into the geek hole here.) The mentor is never the star of the show. But he’s a whole hell of a lot cooler. Quick, do the “stuck in an elevator” test and tell me who wins: Morpheus or Neo? Obi-Wan or Luke? Dumbledore or Harry? Gandalf or Frodo? (Yes, the geek hole has become a chasm.)

 

THE MENTOR WINS EVERY TIME.

 

And that’s essentially what a lit manager is: a mentor, a guide, for his writer client. Technically speaking, we’re not even allowed to negotiate business deals for our clients. It’s illegal. Our official job description is to “help guide the career” of our writer clients as they navigate their way through the trash-strewn, shark-infested waters of Hollywood. Do we negotiate business deals for our clients? Of course! Especially when they don’t have an agent (or even a lawyer). But more on that later. (Much more.)

 

Mainly though, we function as guides. And often, we end up with much better stories than the talent themselves. As a lit manager I do three things: 1) help a writer get better at screenwriting; 2) get that writer paid for his better screenwriting; and 3) do my best to prevent that writer from getting screwed in numerous (infinite?) ways by the Hollywood system. And doing all this gives me MUCH better elevator stories to tell than the real star of the show. Then again, if you like hearing about caffeine-fueled, bloodshot nights in front of a laptop and the intermingling of bodily fluids, I may be wrong. . . .

 

As this is my intro blog, I’m going to save the actual stories for another time. I’ll finish with three tidbits. (And who knows, maybe this will become a habit. Good things always come in threes, right?)

 

Tidbit #1:          Everyone in Hollywood falls into two categories: talent and failed

talent. Those who can’t write/direct/act, produce/represent. Simple as

that.

 

Tidbit #2:          Of course it’s not as simple as that, since (and I know you won’t believe

me) I’m a rare exception to Tidbit #1. I never wanted to be a writer or director (and please don’t insult me by thinking I may have wanted to be an actor). I just like bossing people around and making angry phone calls.

 

Tidbit #3:          Morpheus isn’t my real name. (What? I said I’d give you three tidbits and I

only really had two and I have to pee.)