So this is what film production is like: back in NYC for the weekend to do a final revise on the screenplay with John, the director, before production in Mid-March. It’s like being in the air traffic control tower on Thanksgiving during a white-0ut. John is working the charm offensive in what appears to be a dozen directions: casting, locking production talent, location scouting, soundtrack… Cable internet drips. Time Warner is called, called, and called again. Fridge has Fresca and left-overs and emergency hummus. Suddenly, we need to restore a scene from, like, twelve drafts ago. Where, pray tell, do the twelve-ago drafts live?
At least it’s pouring rain out. Nobody’s going anywhere.



