I sent my new feature script to UCLA’s Screenwriting department so they could pass it on to an agent on my behalf, being that I attended UCLA’s Master Class. This agency submission through UCLA is the reason I applied to the Master Class last year, though now I think there’s a slim chance it’ll lead to anything, because the script is being submitted to only one agent. I don’t know who this agent is and I don’t know what genres he or she prefers. The whole thing is a million to one shot, but it’s still a shot.

As for the script itself, I’ve edited and polished it down to a lean 100 pages, from 104. I removed a few tiny scenes and some dialog, and put in the original ending I had in mind, which now brings the story to a more emotionally powerful and natural conclusion.

I've written an outline for my next short film. I call it SKATER GIRL. I'm not sure whether that’ll be the final title -- I don’t even really know what the film is about yet. I keep seeing images of a girl skateboarding around Santa Monica Beach, so I'm using that as inspiration to create an experimental, semi-narrative film.

With that idea alone, before I even had an outline, I placed a casting call on LA Casting, for a girl in the 18 to 25 range, with the description of “athletic with an edgy attitude”, and the required skill of being able to skateboard. The ad also states that there’s no script or dialog, and that we’ll be free to take creative risks without the fear of failing. With this film, I want to be free to improvise, to focus on images, action, and music, and not worry about rehearsing, doing multiple takes, or recording dialog.

I’m also freeing myself from having to spend money. Going forward with my short films, I won’t pay my actors anything more than a small stipend to cover gas and meals. I don’t get paid to make my short films, so why should the actors? They have as much to gain as I do. If the film turns out well, we all get material for our demo reels. If it doesn’t, everyone still gets verified credit on IMDb along with experience.

A bunch of friends showed up for the festival screening of STRING THEORY, some of them coming all the way from the San Francisco Bay Area. I was really touched by the show of support from all of them.

I was also pretty damn nervous. I wasn't sure whether people would like the film, but as soon as the film started and I heard the first wave of laughter, I immediately relaxed. The audience laughed all the way through to the end credits and gave the film a hearty round of applause. The Q&A session afterward, with all the filmmakers, went well also. The audience even laughed at some of my answers, especially when I told them about the real life stories that inspired the film.

One audience member asked all the filmmakers whether they make a living in the industry or whether they have day jobs. Pretty much everyone answered that they were “filmmakers”, “writers” or “directors”. With a straight face, I told the crowd that I work as a driving instructor. I told them that I risk my life everyday to teach sixteen year-olds how to drive. They laughed. They clearly appreciated my honesty.

It seemed to me that most of the other filmmakers dodged that question because they were trying to appear as “real” filmmakers. I don’t feel the need to appear like a “real” filmmaker. I am one. My day job has little to do with my identity or self-worth.

I received an email from LA Shorts Fest that began like this: “Congratulations! Your film ‘String Theory’ has been selected to be part of the 14th annual LA Shorts Fest, July 22 - 30, 2010.”

This was a pleasant little shock because I’d given up on the thought of STRING THEORY playing at any festival months ago.

My film is going to be on the big screen, in front of a paying audience, at the world’s biggest short film festival! I called my dad and closest friends to give them the good news.

At the get-together at his house, Tom gave me my script back, and again, he said he thought it was very good. I wanted to ask him whether he’d be willing to pass it on to his producer friend Sid Ganis, but we were all gathered in the living room and I didn’t want to pull him aside or put him on the spot in front of the other students.

Instead, I emailed him the next day. I thanked him again for his support then asked him whether he thought Sid Ganis might be interested in my script, and if so, would he feel comfortable recommending it to him. I reminded him that Sid, as a guest speaker in our class, had specifically mentioned he was looking for a good thriller script, and that he would consider one if it came with a recommendation from a trusted source.

Tom’s email response came quick: “Sorry, but no I don’t show scripts to personal friends. It has a tendency to change the relationship.”

I emailed back, telling him that I appreciated his candid response, and that I understood what he was saying.

That first part was true. I did appreciate his candid response. But the second part wasn’t. I don’t understand how recommending a script to a friend can “change the relationship”.

I more or less expected a “no” so I’m not too disappointed. It’s my job to look under every stone, even if I suspect there’s nothing under it.

My UCLA Master Class finished today. I handed a copy of my new script to instructor Tom, who invited everyone to a get-together at his house next Thursday. He said he'll give my script back to me then, along with his notes. I’m anxious to see his reaction to the finished script. If he likes it, he might be willing to pass it on to one of his industry connections.