A phenomenon I’ve encountered and registered several times in my life is this: many American Christians should be avoided at all cost. There’s something about the Americanization of an ancient religion. Commodities? Fragmentation? Generalization, simplification? Whatever it is, it results in some (some! Not all, but certainly enough) of the most incorrectly-principled people I’ve ever had the misfortune of encountering.
To be precise, I’m referring here to one person we’ll call Barney. I would use his real name out of spite but we’ve already engaged in such heated and legally-charged discourse that I don’t even want to risk a slander charge or whatever the fuck.
I first met Barney on Backstage.com, where he messaged me to ask if I was available the following morning to interview for a Director/Screenwriter position for a film he was (is!) producing. We met, I was fabulous and sociable as I am, I got hired. I worked with this company for several months (2, 3, whatever). I developed a cohesive scene breakdown from the gibberish I was provided, invented several new minor characters to fill in the gaps (left, of course, by Barney — who’s really nowhere near as intelligent as he thinks himself to be), and wrote four drafts of a 30-page script.
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A few key details I’ll now include.
1. To use Barney’s exact words: “it’s not a Christian film, but it has Christian messaging.” Translation: "I’m making a Christian movie but I’m too much of a bitch to admit it.” Like, at least stand up and say that with your chest. It’s your whole religion — shouldn’t you be proud? But I digress.
2. I was working for free. Yes, that was an error, but I needed more directing/writing credits and the job basically crash-landed in my lap.
3. Barney insisted on us not just being coworkers, but being “friends” — something which I loathe, on principle. Like, I don’t know you. I don’t want to hang out. I am here because I want to do something. I don’t particularly want to know you. Especially because (forgive my bigotry here) I don’t really like American Christians who make a point out of being American Christians.
4. Barney wanted the cast to be all-white to fit his “vision.” This was told to me after I’d already watched 40+ self tapes and Zoom auditioned 2 POC actors.
Let’s dwell on Point 4 for a moment. the short film I was working on for Barney was the second in a seven-installment short film series. Barney is Hispanic and White and claimed several times over the course of our acquaintanceship to be very keen on showing families of different “look[s] and feel[s].” Serial-killer-y to say, but perhaps not ill-intentioned. He also said, ironically, that while he didn’t want the series to feel like a “diversity checklist” (that’s a direct quote), he did want each family showcased to be … a different race. Look and feel. Apparently, this was the “White movie” (my words, not Barney’s. At least, not verbatim).
I did try to fight this idea of his, to be clear. I proposed that since the film’s concept was universally relatable (i.e. basic, generic, typical), and the vast majority of “universally appealing” media is White, it would be more beneficial for this movie to showcase people of color. Beyond that principle, almost all the good actors we’d had auditioning (auditions which, for the record, I’d literally spent $85 to continue operating while on a cruise to Cozumel) were Black and Hispanic. Beyond the moral wrongness of insisting that his “White” vision was the vision for the film, it just didn’t make logistical sense.
Eventually, we discussed and I told him I’d just let him be casting director and he could do whatever the fuck he wanted. Then, I got angry a day later, sent a scathing email to the entire team (4 people in total, comprising the entire film staff up to that point) outlining my discussions with Barney, and quit. Thus began a days-long pseudo-legal battle between myself and Barney, since, oops! I retracted my permission for Barney’s production company to use the script I wrote.
I will die on the hill that I didn’t really qualify for “work for hire” since I was not getting any compensation (it hadn’t even been specified if I’d be getting a copy of the film to use in my portfolio) for the project, and thus the script was entirely my intellectual property. But FUCK, did Barney fight that claim. Luckily, I’m smarter and more brutal than him, and I think he knew it, so I eventually won out on the condition that I not use the script in my “work samples” or portfolios. Small price to pay, as it was a corny, shitty concept anyways. But they have to rewrite 80% of the script and I know I had Barney freaking the fuck out for at least a week. Win? Win.
Hopefully that doesn’t sound too brutal of me. Actually, it was brutal. I don’t regret it though. The fucker deserved all the shit I gave him and then some. Blessings abound, praise Jesus, et cetera, et cetera. I do also hope that this tale entertained you somewhat — it was just so recent that I couldn’t think of much else to write about.
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I’m working on some other scripts, by the way. One is done ("Perfect Shot”), but one I haven’t quite finished yet. It’s called “Ode to An 8-Ball God,” which I thought was fun and intriguing. It’s about fifteen pages, I’m done with twelve. Should be fun. I’ll keep you updated if you like. Oh, and “Prom: 2006” is absolutely, definitely happening. We have the funds, we have the cast and crew. We’re totally set. It should be super badass.
I realize sometimes just how great a penchant I have for doing random things. I became a nanny on a whim, and have continued the pursuit of that short-term career for a year and a half. I wrote a murder mystery game (actually, two games) because I was bored years ago at my barista job, then most recently because my dad had passed and I was bored of sitting at home doing nothing while I dealt with his passing. I wrote a 90-page script to prove to myself I could, then I started pre-production for a film with no experience. And et cetera, et cetera. Something in me craves action. Maybe it’s because I’m an Aries. Maybe it’s because of something else. I don’t know.
Most importantly, though, are the times when I do something for the hell of it and it sticks. The most important two of these are as follows.
1. Nannying. I’m good at it, I enjoy it, it’s fulfilling. Check.
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2. Writing. I’m compulsive at it, at this point in time; I find myself writing constantly. Stewing and brewing up new ideas to write about in my head; sometimes writing without any idea at all.
Both of these habits are huge aspects of my life. I might go so far as to consider them operational modes; I am Jules, I nanny, I write. I struggle with everything outside of these. I am a good friend — that is a struggle. I am a stable girlfriend — that is a struggle. I take meds, I attend therapy, I go to class — these are struggles. I like to be outside myself, unfortunately; I like to do in an external way. I like to move, I like to act, I like to create; everything which involves some sort of directionally inward understanding-of-self is greatly taxing on me. Obviously this is a problem, but the only thing that feels actively helpful to me is engaging in those extrinsic pursuits: write, nanny. Be a caretaker, be a creator. Everything else is hard.
I might even go so far as to propose that fostering life that’s outside of me (caring for a child who will grow up and have no memory of me; writing stories which are meant to exist outside of my direct personhood) is something I’m drawn to. I like building, I like making. I like when things are only temporarily affected by me, then grow up and move outwards and away. It gives me a comforting sensation of localized transience. I do things to prove I’m here, then I vanish. God this has gotten bleak. But it’s interesting, no?
I think I’ll leave this at that. I’m getting a little too personal; I need to sink back into my pool of faux-transparency (which is, of course, a fabrication that allows me to retreat into true selfhood in the privacy of solitude). I will glimmer in the waters, then I will drift away.