Introduction
I was about to fly from Los Angeles to New York. It was a few days before Thanksgiving. Three months earlier, I moved to Hollywood and began a Fellowship at the American Film Institute. My studio apartment, blocks from Hollywood Boulevard, with its murphy bed and circa 1970s furniture, lent to the mystique of my new home. Moving here from New York was as different as different could be. But I was in my happy place, immersed in an industry steeped in once upon a times.
In preparation for my flight, I jammed several film scripts into my backpack, intending to read each one during my five-plus-hour flight. I was headed home to spend a few days in reality, where real drama happened as opposed to the shrink-wrapped drama of Hollywood. ...
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