LB’s Poetry: “Kid Hollywood is Born: June, 1968”


People always ask how I got started as a television writer, and I my best to give them the condensed, educational, “You-can-do-it-too” version. But the following poem doesn’t just state the facts, it faces how I felt at the time the beginning – um – began. And since the poem was written many years, there must might be a trace or two of how I felt while I was writing this as well:

Kid Hollywood Is Born: June, 1968;
I Want To Write About Dreams

I sold my soul the other day

At Cantor’s Deli, over on Fairfax.

I thought such an event should take place

In Beverly Hills, or at least on Sunset

Boulevard somewhere, but that’s how it goes.

I suppose.

The devil was a William Morris agent named

Sylvia, sixty years old if she was a day. Reminded

Me of my Grandmother, if anything had ever gone

Her way.

I love my Grandmother, but not Sylvia. Too fast,

Too sharp. Too lucky. But while Gramma has

Warmth, and a laugh that makes shadows flee;

Sylvia had the magic words. “You can get work

In this town as easy as anybody else,” that’s what

She said.

“As easy as anybody…

“As easy…


That’s what I heard.

So I told her I’d sign. She’s got two years

To make me who I want to be. You know the

Guy—he exposes the world! He illuminates

All life! He’s the guy who gives

People dreams, lets them know the value

Of wanting, of craving, of needing, of

Demanding all life has to give.

And if he can do it in casual clothes

That cost more than a house, hey, why

Not? And if he can drive a Mercedes

And live in Bel Air, is that such a bad trick?

There were two or three of those guys

At Cantor’s that day, having

Pastrami and talking guarantees.

They knew Sylvia too.

Smiled. Waved.

We’re starting with TV. “Here Come the Brides.”

Never heard of it, but I’ll watch before the


Sylvia says, “Get rid of the sport coat. It’s

Too formal for out here.

Makes you look scared.”

Sport coat’s gone.

The devil paid the price that day,

Bought me a patty melt.

I want to write about dreams.

Larry Brody is the head dood at TVWriter™. Although the book whose cover you see above is for sale on Kindle, he is posting at least one poem a week here at TVWriter™ because, “As the Navajo Dog herself once pointed out to me, ‘Art has to be free. If you create it for money, you compromise your artistic vision by trying to please those who are paying. If you don’t accept money, you can be yourself. Like your art, you too are free.’”

Who is the Navajo Dog? Keep coming back and you’ll see.

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