So I received a royalty statement from one of my publishers this weekend. And I'm not bragging when I say there were a lot of zeroes in there. A lot.
Unfortunately, there were no numbers preceding them. And naturally, the sight of all those goose eggs put the fear of Grodd into me. What if my next royalty statement looks the same? And the next? And the next? And the next, ad infinitum, ad nauseum, ad placement? I don't want to be a zillionaire, but I don't want to be a zilchionaire either.
Fortunately, I haven't put all my goose eggs in one basket. If the publishing industry won't cough up the big bucks eventually, I'm certain Hollywood will. I have decided to become a movie mogul. Don't scoff. It's never been easier to do.
I don't have connections. I don't have clout. I don't have access to compromising pictures of Rupert Murdoch. I don't even have much moxie (sometimes known as "chutzpah," "hubris" or "sociopathic will to power").
What do I have? A property. And I'm not talking about a sweet little plot of land out by the highway right where they're going to build the new Wal-Mart.
No, I'm talking about "intellectual property" -- though there's not much that's intellectual about mine. I have acquired the movie rights to the beloved mid-'70s Saturday morning TV show Far Out Space Nuts. And, by cracky, it's going to be a major, major, major motion picture or my name isn't Darryl F. Zanuck!
(Note to the impressionable: My name is not Darryl F. Zanuck. As loyal readers of this blog know, my real name is JT LeRoy.)
If you're still not convinced, I've got two words for you: '70s nostalgia. And three more words: Bob Denver nostalgia. And seven more words: It's easier than thinking up something new. Plus, hey, it's got a classic story.
On the surface, maybe Far Out Space Nuts was just a dopey kiddie show about a couple of idiotic janitors who accidentally blast themselves into space. But it was really a story about people -- ordinary men thrust into extraordinary circumstances, forced to find the hero within while confronting their very human frailties. Oh, and they've got a wacky muppet sidekick. What's not to love?
So why am I telling you this? Because you, too, can be a mogul. All you need is an intellectual property of your own. They're easy to get. The other day I saw the rights to Manimal on sale at K-Mart for $5.99. I stole the rights to Far Out Space Nuts from an old man sleeping on a bus-stop bench.
Of course, you could always come up with your own intellectual property. You know -- create something. But that wouldn't be the Hollywood way, now would it?
In Tinseltown, everybody wants to be a zillionaire. Sometimes it just seems like nobody wants to earn it.
April 19, 2010