Far from Pittsburgh, but never away
I didn't come to Pittsburgh for Thanksgiving. And as much I as I wanted to be back in the 'Burgh for the weekend, it is clear that in my mind I've never really left. Where I am in physical space is irrelevant.
Sure, in Southern California, we play the Turkey Bowl on the beach, rotisserie our turkey outside while the early game plays, and let the kids swim while we get the table set for company. The temperature outside doesn't interfere with the way I see the world. The way I see the world is from the perspective of my upbringing.
Case in point: A morning in early November. I've made my coffee, kids are off to school and I'm hunched over the computer to work on my new projects, two set in Pittsburgh.
Both projects are not particularly fast-tracked due to their darker, realistic subject matter (one a contemporary look at gun and drug crime in Pittsburgh, the other a historical piece that traces the steel industry and coal industry and unionization in the 1890s). Out my home office window, a never-ending stream of Prius (Pri-i?), women in yoga gear and gardeners pass by. The mailman approaches, carrying his bundle of bills.
Which reminds me -- I should probably be writing scripts that actually pay.
My agents have sent over projects for hire -- but I can't seem to commit to sending a remake of "Oh, God" or "Look Who's Talking" back into the world, or somehow getting my hands on one of the second-tier superhero franchises (Flash, Flash Gordon, The Flash -- who knew they were different?).
What I write generally doesn't involve explosions, superhuman powers, high concepts or ticking clocks. What I write, usually, is set in Pittsburgh and is about what I remember and romanticize about my hometown.Related Links:
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