Chapter One: Traveling to Oz
Once upon a time... (yes, it begins as a fairy-tale)
I was a young girl intrigued by fantasy and surrealism. My interest lied in film writing and it's adaptation to the screen. At 20 years of age, I decided I wasn't going to live my whole life dreaming about Oz, I had to put my words into action in order for things to become reality. It was time I hit the yellow brick road to find my destiny... So, I packed my car full of belongings and left Kansas in the rear view. With stars in my eyes and the Hollywood sign in mind, I made my way to Los Angeles. Filled with opportunity, I knew this city would lead me into the film business one way or another.
It took numerous applications and various interviews before landing my first internship. As it turns out, it's pretty easy to find an unpaid internship in a big city. Free labor... easy to find, hard to land. You see, EVERYONE in LA is chasing the same thing (movies/TV). So you can imagine, when I got this break I was ecstatic.
And so began my training as a "developmental intern". The title sounded so official. How could I not be thrilled? I trusted having this internship under my belt would open doors for me.
It would pay off, figuratively, of course.
Job Description: Work for a renowned producer! Read scripts, discuss budget, audience, plot, character, dialog...yada yada.
It all sounded so perfect.
It wasn't until a week later that I realized I had signed my life to Satan.
He had me working 9-5 four days a week. Did I mention this was unpaid?
And, when I say 9-5, I really mean 6-8. The drive to work should be taken into consideration here. I was living in AlisoViejo at the time traveling north on the 105 to get to Belaire. And of course, SoCal traffic is a bitch.
The drive without traffic: 45 mins
The drive with traffic: 3 hours (I kid you not)
Most Days I'd try my luck in the carpool lane to shave off a half hour or so, that way I could enjoy the trades and a coffee on Rhodeo before having my confidence ripped to shreds by an egotistic asshole.
When I look back on the situation I think, "damn, I had it made". I mean, what's so bad about being an intern in Beverly Hills? It's the job and setting most film grads would kill for. I worked out of a Mansion in Belaire for Christ sake!
But, this wasn't just an internship, this was a learning process, as well as a reality check (yep, not in Kansas anymore). I like to think The Devil Wears Prada was loosely based off of my own horror story. Except instead of the overbearing fashionista, I was working for the overbearing award-winning film "master". And master he was, as I was undoubtedly his slave.
To be continued...
Once upon a time... (yes, it begins as a fairy-tale)
I was a young girl intrigued by fantasy and surrealism. My interest lied in film writing and it's adaptation to the screen. At 20 years of age, I decided I wasn't going to live my whole life dreaming about Oz, I had to put my words into action in order for things to become reality. It was time I hit the yellow brick road to find my destiny... So, I packed my car full of belongings and left Kansas in the rear view. With stars in my eyes and the Hollywood sign in mind, I made my way to Los Angeles. Filled with opportunity, I knew this city would lead me into the film business one way or another.
It took numerous applications and various interviews before landing my first internship. As it turns out, it's pretty easy to find an unpaid internship in a big city. Free labor... easy to find, hard to land. You see, EVERYONE in LA is chasing the same thing (movies/TV). So you can imagine, when I got this break I was ecstatic.
And so began my training as a "developmental intern". The title sounded so official. How could I not be thrilled? I trusted having this internship under my belt would open doors for me.
It would pay off, figuratively, of course.
Job Description: Work for a renowned producer! Read scripts, discuss budget, audience, plot, character, dialog...yada yada.
It all sounded so perfect.
It wasn't until a week later that I realized I had signed my life to Satan.
He had me working 9-5 four days a week. Did I mention this was unpaid?
And, when I say 9-5, I really mean 6-8. The drive to work should be taken into consideration here. I was living in AlisoViejo at the time traveling north on the 105 to get to Belaire. And of course, SoCal traffic is a bitch.
The drive without traffic: 45 mins
The drive with traffic: 3 hours (I kid you not)
Most Days I'd try my luck in the carpool lane to shave off a half hour or so, that way I could enjoy the trades and a coffee on Rhodeo before having my confidence ripped to shreds by an egotistic asshole.
When I look back on the situation I think, "damn, I had it made". I mean, what's so bad about being an intern in Beverly Hills? It's the job and setting most film grads would kill for. I worked out of a Mansion in Belaire for Christ sake!
But, this wasn't just an internship, this was a learning process, as well as a reality check (yep, not in Kansas anymore). I like to think The Devil Wears Prada was loosely based off of my own horror story. Except instead of the overbearing fashionista, I was working for the overbearing award-winning film "master". And master he was, as I was undoubtedly his slave.
To be continued...
