Have Pen Will Travel: Wire Geomop NYC

I was on the writing staff for a dinner theater a number of years ago although the use of the word "theater" to describe what we were forced to write is stretching the point considerably. Let us just say that this "theater" was of the interactive comedy variety and the shows were performed at such noted venues as the "Harry S Truman Rococo Room" at the Teaneck Holiday Inn and the basement of the Elks Club of Lodi, New Jersey.

We would all have to attend staff meetings where the "producer" would vaingloriously toss us his latest "script" which was usually devoid of any of the usual elements of a good one, such as plot development or character arc. In his defense I will say that all the scripts were constructed from high quality bond paper and easy to read ink; not the usual crappy ink jet printouts from a PC. In fact they looked so neat that I was convinced he paid a monk to transcribe his meanderings from the yellow legal pad he always carried under his arm.

During the meetings we would read through the "script" and search with an electron microscope for any signs of humor or actual jokes. The "producer" would then tell us that he thought the script was "good" but that it needed "punching up" and could we "add some dick and tit jokes on page 47." Noel Coward would have been proud to know us as we were the epitome of sophistication.

I'm generally the type of person who tries to be kind about scripts I'm asked to work on but even I can only take so much. One day, after laboring over one of these things and attempting to write inside what I call a "constricted dick and tit box" and being told time and time again by the "producer" that he "didn't think it was working" and we all should "stick closer to his original idea," I'd decided I'd had enough.

"Let me tell you something." I said. "I'm going to go to Staples and buy a ream of paper. Then I'm going to eat it. When I finally take a shit, a better script is going to drop out of my ass than this piece of shit you wrote."

I don't remember exactly what was said after this but it involved some Yiddish curse words.

The funniest comment ever made to the producer at a meeting was from another staff member and close friend of mine. Upon reading one of his latest theatrical attempts he turned to the man and said, "You know, if this script were any better it would SUCK." Brilliant.

In the end, it all worked out. These were "works for hire" so we never got any credit anyway. And even when we managed to sneak a good joke in, one with a solid set-up and punchline, it would be altered in a way that rendered it about as funny as a children's cancer ward.

You've got to love writers. Well, not necessarily.