cli·ché also cliche (kl-sh)
1. A trite or overused expression or idea: “Even while the phrase was degenerating to cliché in ordinary public use . . . scholars were giving it increasing attention” (Anthony Brandt).
2. A person or character whose behavior is predictable or superficial: “There is a young explorer . . . who turns out not to be quite the cliche expected” (John Crowley).
3. A writer in conspicuously working on a script in a Los Angeles coffee shop.
Yeah, that’s me… Number 3. I write this from my favorite NoHo coffee shop while sipping a cold-brewed coffee (the closest thing to liquid inspiration, or pharmaceutical grade amphetamine, one can purchase legally without a medical cannabis card) and working on a script.
For years I ridiculed the cliché, and all the stereotypical Hollywood writer wannabe-types hacking away at their scripts over double-half-caf-skinny-decaf-mochachino lattes at the local coffee bar… But then I moved to the Bay Area where, guess what? All kinds of people were hanging out in coffee shops pouring over their laptops, with the only distinction from the Los Angeles crowd being a dearth of Final Draft licenses being used.
Lately I’ve been embracing this cliché, and must apologize to the cadre of anonymous writers I’ve heretofore disparaged… This is a great way to work!
Sure, I’ve got a beautiful studio space in my home, complete with some fairly state-of-the-art hardware and software, but you can only spend so many hours a day locked in a loft with your parrot and the Internet as your only companions without going a bit starkers. So here I sit, working on revisions on a one-act play that I’m going to be self-publishing within the next month or two, and hopefully, after yet another massive rewrite and reimagining, will be turning in the the first part of a 3-series Web TV show.
Well at least that’s the plan.
So the stereotype is me… And I’m perfectly fine with that. Oh, and wear a funky Doctor Who t-shirt and you will find yourself at no loss for conversation with other Whovians, of which there are no small number in this part of the World, also seeking refuge in these monuments to self-medication through caffeine. It’s a beautiful thing.
And that’s my Sunday blog about nothing.