"Everyone ought to go careful in a city like this." -Popescu, The Third Man

In the volatile business of entertainment, an industry centered in Los Angeles, scripts are dealt death blows on a daily basis, often destroying meritorious projects for the most insipid reasons. No need to list the gazillion examples of films that weren't worth the celluloid on which they were printed; besides, my "Citizen Kane", "The Third Man", "The Apartment" or "My Favorite Year" (films which eat most others for breakfast) might not resonate for you as does, say, "Ishtar" (OK, I went for the easy target; it's been a hard day, and I'm tired). And we, the writers and producers who carefully craft stories from outline to script to (one hopes) film -- tales spun from our own notions and others' notes -- are admonished not to take it personally. It's just business.

But, as the song goes, it's like no business I know. It's VERY personal; one's success is often contingent on having the right relationships, making the appropriate appearance, and being in the right location at the right moment. It's the stuff of which dreams are made...no, it's the stuff made of dreams.

When I was an actor, I experienced rejection daily. Not because of who I am, but based on my ability (or not) to deliver the character they sought via my acting skills and physical attributes...not necessarily in that order. Many times, I was too short too heavy too curly too soft too whatever they weren't looking for. The reading was good, but she's got that NOSE. (Hey, what's wrong with my nose?)

Then I found refuge, and got a valuable education, at a television network. I was on the buying side, snug in the cozy catbird seat for years. There, one must deliver well and consistently to the honchos-that-be, but (unless you REALLY fucked up) there was always a paycheck at the end of every two weeks, medical benefits, a pension plan, stock options, and (because we had a senior VP who enjoyed treating us like a family) parties and outings and such. I knew, from my daily dealings with independent producers, theirs was a tough and insecure life. But I had no idea HOW tough until the past year and 5 months of swinging without a net.

Another important project was killed today. Important to me, as it was the first movie I had a hand in selling and developing as a producer. It was bought by a prestigious cable outlet, where my associates and I guided our fine writer diligently and lovingly in fashioning the script we were told was EXACTLY what they were looking for. It tells a story that has yet to be depicted in film, a subject which has great social and political import, a controversial topic that deserves fearless exploration and national exposure. But, as well as the beautifully-written script was received, we've been told it no longer fits the cabler's mandate. No matter what powerhouse agency or high-profile personalities are behind it. After 18 months of hard work and high hopes -- pass. I saw it happen many times at the network. I never felt it until now.

And this news is all the more disappointing since the real-life protagonist is in a battle for his own real life. We had hoped to get a pick-up so he could see his story filmed and broadcast...and so we could all get paid...especially our hero. I suppose it may yet happen. But I know better than to count an unhatched chick.

I've lived in LA a long time, but will always be a native New Yorker. It's not that I wasn't ever smacked around in that city, too...tales for another time. But tonight, I longed to escape to the relative comfort of my hometown when I spoke at length with my dear Linda M. It's amazing; even though she's now living in and about New York, she can still reach through my dejection and agitation with her kind, measured voice and her clear vision, fettered only by her affection for me, to give me the necessary perspective. To help me shake it off and continue. Made me wish I was there, hanging with Linda and her beloved Paul, who are renovating their new house in Connecticut and going to the US Open on Saturday.

In the latest episode of Sex & The City, Carrie Bradshaw closes with the voiceover, "Love is possible -- anything is possible. This is New York."

Well, love -- and anything -- will have to be possible in LA, too.