The Perils, Pitfalls, and Cool Stuff That Come with Living in L.A.

Life in L.A. may not be a cabaret, but it IS a studio tour

LB’S NOTE: Speaking of where I live now that I’m, erm, sort of retired, here’s another perspective on the city where I abided for about 30 years (with, I admit, a few breaks in places like Santa Fe, NM and – God help me – Orlando, FLA.

by Larry Brody

Throughout my career, one of the most asked questions, usually uttered in a voice so filled with resentment and contempt that makes me want to pull out the AK I don’t (and never will) have and start blasting always has been:

“If I want to write for film or television, do I have to live in L.A.?”

And my answer, with the sweetest smile and mildest tone of voice I can muster, always has been

“Yep.”

After which, complete with gasps and looks of anguish the response always has been:

“Ohmigod! No! NO! NO!!!”

Followed most of the time by the questioner taking quick look around for the nearest exit and then, as though propelled by the biggest booster rocket in the U.S. or Chinese or Tesla – excuse me – SpaceX storehouse a run for that very door.

I’ve lived with this for years. But why? What’s the reason for all this hoohah? Why the horror at not being able to write, say, The Good Place, from Iowa City or Oshkosh? I mean, c’mon, what’s the problem?

Maybe we can figure it out by first going through the reason for my answer. Instead of smacking our collective head against the wall in dismay, let’s just ask another question:

“Why? Why do screen and TV writers have to live in L.A.?”

This is a legitimate line of inquiry, to be sure, and there are all kinds of legitimate answers. It boils down to the fact that L.A. is a company town and even now, with the rise of online platforms of all kinds and sizes, showbiz still is the company. If you want to work here, then you have to live here. This is where you make the friends and contacts who will help you make your career.

Simple, no? So why does that seem so horrific to the wannabes at the writers conferences? Why do they react so violently? What do they have against moving to L.A.? Is it the uprooting? Is it the city? Is it the fact that they’ve always had the idea that as writers they are above and beyond the shmoozing engaged in by mere mortal men?

Hey, friends, shmoozing’s the name of the game – just about every game. Let’s face it. No matter what our job titles, we’re all salesmen, selling ourselves. If you want to live the life of the hermit writer, if your heart goes pitter-patter at the thought of staying all alone in your attic ala Emily Dickinson, then TV and screenwriting ain’t for you.

A poem, after all, is an end in itself. Ditto a short story, a novel…anything written to be read. But scripts are written to be performed. Scripts don’t exist all alone. They’re the foundation of a production involving one Acme Ton O’People. So you have to be the kind of person who can stand all those people, who can get along with producers and directors and crew members and even…shudder…actors.

More than get along. To succeed in showbiz you have to actively like all those folks. In fact, it goes further than that. In my experience, the writers who succeed in television and on screen do so because they love the whole package. They don’t merely want to be writers, they WANT TO BE IN SHOWBIZ. They love the whole lifestyle.

The writers who make it are the men and women who grew up as the most frantic of fans. While they were living in Dubuque their bodies tingled at the very words, “Sunset Boulevard,” and “Hollywood and Vine.”

They’re the men and women who read every entertainment column in every local newspaper and magazine, who dreamed of the day their pictures would be in “People” and their privacy invaded on Access Hollywood.

They’re the men and women who love driving down the freeway and looking at the car beside them and seeing that it’s driven by Denzel Washington. The men and women who think that Denzel should be just as thrilled to turn and see them.

The writers who make it love the sun and the surf and the smog, the bikinis and the beautiful people. To them, plastic surgery is a sign of success.

They think a day without a meeting is a day that never was, and the first thing they do when they get a deal is pop for the down payment on a new Porsche. When they get another deal they buy a house in the hills, with a black bottom swimming pool and a coke dealer living next door.

They look at the blacked-out windows of a passing limo and wonder who’s inside and pray to God On High that someday soon others will wonder the same thing as their limos roll by.

They know that regardless of how overpriced and under-tasty the food may be there’s no better restaurant in the world than whichever one is today’s darling. Because they’re there to see who else is there, and to feel fuzzy all over because across from them a middle-aged guy is saying, “Option…” and behind them a bare midriffed babe is saying, “Gross receipts.”

The writers who make it are the men and women who live for the day that their names will be in the gossip columns and they’ll be interviewed on the red carpet at every premiere. They’ll do anything for the time when they can make an Oscar or Emmy acceptance speech, and wave and say, “Thanks, Ma.” They are driven by demons that demand fame and fortune and won’t take anything else. They need more than a blank page to fill, they need glamor and glitz.

Need it.

Need it.

NEED!

Showbiz life is harsh. The Money Gods are impatient, and the rivalry is intense. What makes all the long nights of work and the kissing up worthwhile is the Hollywood Lifestyle, because thatÕs the drug the successful ones crave.

Believe me, I’ve been there, I know. Wives, kids, love, loyalty…those things don’t mean a thing next to getting that great showrunner job.

So, to all of you who keep asking me, “Do I have to live in L.A.?” I say the real question should be:

“Why would you want it any other way?”


If you’re reading this, you probably already know who Larry Brody is. If you need to know more, a good place to start would be HERE. Or HERE. This post is an adaptation of an article on one of TVWriter™’s very own Writers’ Bulletins Resource Pages, which are laid out for all to see, free of charge and/or obligation, HERE.

Seeya in L.A.!

Bill Bixby Remembered by Friends & Co-Workers – including Our Own LB

Back in the dim, dark 1970s, before most TVWriter™ visitors were even imagined, let alone born, our founder, Larry Brody, got his first TV writing staff job on a little-remembered series called The Magician.

At the beginning of the 2018 holiday season while Team TVWriter™ was beginning its vacation, LB was contacted by entertainment journalist Ed Gross and interviewed for a piece Ed was writing for Closer Weekly on the late Bill Bixby, star of The Incredible Hulk (where he shared the titular role with Lou Ferrigno), The Courtship of Eddie’s Father, My Favorite Martian, and several more series including, yep, that self-same The Magician.

Now completed, Ed’s perceptive view of Bixby’s life and work is available for your reading pleasure on the Closer Weekly site, and, thanks to Ed’s generosity, you can also read LB’s bit right here:

American actor Bill Bixby (1934 – 1993) as Anthony Blake in ‘The Magician’, circa 1973. (Photo by Silver Screen Collection/Getty Images)

‘The Magician’ (1973-74) by Ed Gross

With The Courtship of Eddie’s Father ending in 1972, the following year Bill on the part of Anthony “Tony” Blake, described by Wikipedia as a playboy philanthropist who used his skills to solve difficult crimes as needed.

“This was supposed to be Bill Bixby’s breakthrough into dramatic television. Fresh off The Courtship of Eddie’s Father, Bixby was considered a top audience draw when The Magician premiered in 1973,” Ed [Robertson] writes at tvparty.com. “Both NBC and Paramount Pictures had high hopes for this light action drama about a troubleshooting illusionist named Anthony Blake. But fate intervened, in the form of a Writers Guild strike in the spring of ’73 that threw a wrench in production schedules throughout television… The strike didn’t settle until late in the summer, effectively wiping out the early months of prep time that can often make or break a new series.”