For your daily dose of Industry Castor Oil pop over to I Find Your Lack of Faith Disturbing and remember to breathe through your nose as you spoon it down:

"Because if you think your job is to make a bad script good, or a good script great, or God forbid, a great script perfect, well...now you are a fucking idiot. These are quixotic quests, rarely achieved. And never achieved without the consent of the writer. (You can lead a monkey to water, but you can't make him amp up the stakes for the protagonist.)"

But there are two types of writers in Hollywood and I'm not here to guess who's one and who's the other. To put it simply there are those who fall in love with the johns and those who don't. The ones who don't are the ones who embrace the idea of the Infinite Monkey. They are catankerous, perennially defensive and passively antagonistic to their employers. They're fat and ugly and unshaven and if they've succeeded in the industry it's usually in spite of themselves.

They're usually miserable.

Then there are the screenwriters we rarely talk about: They're at every premiere and at every birthday party at the Chateau Marmont. Their Treos are packed with the home phone numbers of producers and their kids have weekend playdates with the kids of the newest VP. They shun the spirit of the sweatpants and at Hollywood's Ellis Island they are the first to shorten their name and remove the consecutive consonants. They're slim and pretty and shop at Fred Segal and are almost always more successful than the other Monkeys.

They're usually miserable."

Laugh like a Barrel full of Space Monkeys rolling down the H'Wood Hills.