Oh, the glam of it

On the theme of books and escape, I actually once had a job that involved primarily nothing-but-reading—story analyst for various film companies in Hollywood. Essentially I read books, screenplays, treatments and other properties, and analyzed their suitability for development.

I couldn’t believe that I could get paid for reading—not much, as it happens, but it was enough at the time. (The downside, of course, was that the quality of at least 85% of what I read hovered somewhere at the bottom of the dreckometer. Think about some of the dogs you’ve seen; now imagine the ones that never got produced.)

Anyhow, during this time I went to the optometrist for a check-up. In the course of him taking my history he asked, “And how many books do you read? A couple a year? One a month?” I blurted, “Are you kidding? I read a book every couple of days.”

You should have seen his face light up as he imagined all his kids getting full funding through professional school.