This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot, I talk about the audience, which has been practicing a kind of social distancing since the moment Netfix started streaming — or, if you want to get deeper, since YouTube dot com turned on the juice. Now it’s Hollywood’s turn to stay home.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I realize that there are two kinds of people in the world. We’re all either R2D2 or C3P0 or Wile E Coyote or the Road Runner or Moses or Complaining Israelites or Jeffrey or Ina.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot, I try to figure out how YouTube made fifteen billion dollars, and how to handle breaking up with my barber. They are deeply linked, I promise.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I reveal what a friend of mine confessed to me years ago. One time, when she was babysitting an infant, all it did was sleep, which bored her. So she woke it up and made it cry. Sometimes we’re the baby. And sometimes we’re the babysitter.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I talk about the newest venture in Hollywood and how people like to say, Never Gonna Work about things that, you know, really could work.

This is Rob Long, and on today’s Martini Shot I get really angry at something that hasn’t happened yet, and then get angry when it doesn’t happen, and then don’t know what to do with all of that pre-anger when it everything turns out okay. I’m like the opposite of a Buddhist.

This is Rob Long, and on today’s Martini Shot I watch a group of people refuse to pay the cover charge at a jazz club and think, I wonder if those people pay for Netflix.

This is Rob Long and I need to offer a trigger warning on today’s Martini Shot. It’s about my wonderful dog Illy. And it ends the way all stories about wonderful dogs end. In a lot of tears and a lot of gratitude.

This is Rob Long, and on today’s Martini Shot I try to work at a co-working space but discover that what people do at co-working spaces is take a lot of breaks from working.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I do my annual new year’s purge of all of the ideas and articles and clippings I’ve saved, thinking they’d be great shows, but I haven’t done anything with them, so time to give them away.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot, I act like the famous, late fashion designer Karl Lagerfeld, by ruining what should be a nice quiet evening watching television.

This is Rob Long, and on today’s Martini Shot I present my ID to the guard at the studio gate and wait to be waved through, and when I am, I’m elated, but also a little disappointed because, well, now I gotta have the meeting.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I talk about what it must be like to be down a well and to look up and see the stars, and why a place I know in Hollywood is trying to do something like that for homeless youth.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I learn what a keynote speaker is, and I learn that it’s someone who can just talk about anything and make it seem like it’s about work. Sounds like my kind of job.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot although I am not technically a licensed pilot I do pilot a plane to takeoff. A real plane. Into the sky. But I do not land it, as my presence here proves.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I decide to pitch a show that I’m pretty sure won’t ever get made, but I do like the title: "Liza Minelli, Private Detective."

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I break the first rule of show business, which is "Nobody Pays for Homework". It’s basically a history lesson.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I wear a jacket to a party and someone tells me it looks good and then asks if it’s vintage. No, I say, I am vintage. The jacket is just the jacket.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I discover that there’s a place where slightly used but still sought-after brands can be bought for cheap. It’s the RealReal, the YouTube of retailers.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I remember a few weeks ago, when videos of unidentified aerial phenomena surfaced, and the Navy said, yeah, those were UFOs, and then we all went Huh and moved on, instead of freaking out like every single science fiction movie predicted.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I suddenly remember I blocked someone’s number when I see on Facebook that they’ve died, and yes I know that makes me a bad person.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I am called courageous for doing something I had no choice but to do, and for doing something else I had no idea was risky in any way, so I’m not really courageous per se as much as cowardly and thoughtless. Tomato tomahto.

This is Rob Long, and on today’s Martini Shot I stretch the limits of apology by comparing driverless cars, navigation software, binge watching television, and the really great Amazon BBC show “Fleabag.” I’m not sure it totally works.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I talk with authority about Deep Fakes — those digitized and undetectable fakes of actors and well-known people doing and saying things they didn’t — and I look enthusiastically at the possibility of a Deep Fake Rob.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I have a super groovy singer friend who tells me that the reason I don’t like the sound of my own voice is because I don’t know how to breathe, which is weird because I’m breathing right now, but it turns out she’s right. I mean, I’m out of breath from just saying that.

This is Rob Long, and on today’s Martini Shot I pretend I’m the kind of person who has never and would never buy vitamin supplements from Instagram, but sadly that is not true. I also bought the Ronco Rotisserie from TV years ago, for the same reason — I see and ad fifty times, eventually I buy the thing.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I predict that the most popular and sought after audience demographic is going to be old people, because once they figure out how to subscribe to Netflix or Hulu or whatever, they’re not going to want to mess with it.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I try to talk some sense into the most stubborn jerk I know —me — and try to make him take the advice he’s always giving to other people, so if he’s smart — and that’s debatable — he’ll just shut up and write the script.

This is Rob Long. I got a “new email address” message that has the wrong email, and it’s emblematic of a bedrock truth about the entertainment industry: it was better when it was a Rolodex business.

This is Rob Long, and on today’s Martini Shot I take a long boat trip to interesting and exotic places, and end up heading back to the boat for pizza night, which is a metaphor I hope everyone can relate to.

This is Rob Long, and on today’s Martini Shot I try to teach a writing class and fail to properly refuse the call, mirror the resolution, or find the pinch point. And apparently that’s what writing is all about.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I talk about my old leaky, oil burning car and why it was a mistake to get it fixed. Turns out, the oil leak grime was holding the whole thing together, sort of like show business.

This is Rob Long, and on today’s Martini Shot I download the Face App and see what I look like when I’m wrinkled and decrepit, which will probably be what I look like next Thursday, but there is good news: old people are about to get very popular in Hollywood.

This is Rob Long, and on today’s Martini Shot my washing machine breaks down and I fix it, sort of, and it all makes me think about Disney Plus. They connect, I promise.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I tell you about the time I went to Costa Rica and drank ayahuasca for four days. There was probably a more artful way to put that, but, I went to Costa Rica and drank ayahuasca. I ran out of euphemisms.

This is Rob Long, and on today’s Martini Shot I tell you about a game show called Phone Swap that is funny and creepy and also on Snapchat, in case you were wondering what the young people were laughing at.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I get super technical and talk about flywheels, which are those things on wheely machine parts which make it go whoosh, whoosh. See? Told you it was technical.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I buy a t-shirt and get an email and somehow it reminds me that writers aren’t always the greatest bosses, especially of other writers.

This is Rob Long, and on today’s Martini Shot I commit acts of violence and mayhem on the Transitive Property of Mathematics, for which I apologize to my eighth grade math teacher.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I get an email from the third assistant of a powerful show business figure, who, you know, must be powerful because who else would need three assistants?

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I talk about serial killers and families living together and all of the ways writers have of making the job a little easier and the viewer a little less inclined to grab the remote.

This is Rob Long, and on today’s Martini Shot I explain how the entertainment business works. It’s like when you have some French fries on your plate, and people keep reaching over and taking some — because fries are delicious — but then why don’t they have any of their own?

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot, I get into an argument with a friend of mine, a fellow writer, at dinner, and teach the other two people there a valuable lesson about having dinner with two writers during a Writers Guild battle and that’s, don’t.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I download the DirecTV Now app to watch the HBO Go app and Showtime Anytime app, but what I needed to do was download the regular DirecTV app to watch the HBO Now app. I think. I’m still on hold with customer service.

This is Rob Long, and on today’s Martini Shot I go to a pitch meeting and at the end of it, I have no idea who is supposed to call whom. That used to be an agent’s job.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot, writers are firing their agents, even agents that they like. An agent said to me, some of my clients have cried on the phone while firing me. I’ve never felt so loved, and also fired.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot, I follow a chain, from some really bad advice, to jail, and then all the way to an Emmy.

This is Rob Long, and on today’s Martini Shot I commit technical violations of investment banking regulations by serving in an advisory capacity to certain mergers and acquisitions deals. Or I would, if anybody ever listened to me.

This is Rob Long, and on today’s Martini Shot I describe — as best I can — the current disagreement between the Writers Guild and the big talent agencies. And I come up with what I think is a pretty interesting compromise. As best I can.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I talk about the worst pitch I ever heard about, which involved a basketball, hot coffee, and a writer with bad aim.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot we talk about the one-page guide to everything you need to know about the entire entertainment industry, in all of its forms and shapes, and that’s the call sheet, which reveals all of the mysteries of show business.

This is Rob Long, and on today’s Martini Shot I talk about what an editor on a movie or TV show really does, which is, watch every take, every outtake, every shot. They see us all at our worst, which is probably why they’re always getting pushed around.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I try to explain why the most successful companies in the entertainment business are like the concession stand at the movie theater. You’re not selling the movie. You’re selling the Mild Duds.

This is Rob Long, and on today’s Martini Shot I listen in on a conversation between a writer and someone giving the writer some very tough feedback on the writer’s latest script, which the writer is now really regretting having asked for. That old story.

This is Rob Long, and on today’s Martini Shot I appear on an obscure talk show on CSPAN one time, get recognized the next day by one person, and think I’m now a famous person who will continue to be recognized by a fascinated public.

This is Rob Long, and on today’s Martini Shot I talk about how part of watching a movie or television show is about shopping, for clothes and home decor and maybe even friends.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I talk about how you know when someone really loves you, by marshmallows and piles of shrimp.

This is Rob Long, and on today’s Martini Shot I talk about the worst sales pitch ever, which goes like this: you’re terrible at your job, you don’t know what you’re doing, please hire me.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I clean things out for the new year. Digitally, I mean, Clips and ideas and files from an extremely cluttered Dropbox, iCloud, and Evernote.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I give you the best Christmas gift ever, and ask for the same thing in return: Total digital absolution. You no longer need to keep up with what’s on Netflix or Hulu or your Kindle or your inbox. Merry Christmas to us.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot a friend opens a new coffee place in New York and I commit acts of influencing and plugola, in exchange for a tall drip.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I’d like to get a lot done this week but of course I can’t because it’s the holidays and it’s hard to get anyone’s attention until after the holidays when it’s crazy because we just got back from the holidays, so I think we’re talking February.

This is Rob Long, and on today’s Martini Shot I talk about impossible it is for some people to remember that they have enough stuff, enough of everything. And by some people I mean, me. But maybe not just me.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I tell the story of the movie star, the eighty dollar plumber, and the joys of a normal life. It all ties together, I promise.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I talk about what happened when my tailor died and his shop was rebooted and remodeled and was better in almost every way except one: it was missing something, like a lot of reboots.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I hypothetically and with names changed, explore some of the ways writers get scripts written, from Adderall to ten micrograms of LSD, everything but just sitting down and doing the work.

This is Rob Long, and on today’s Martini Shot I talk about my most recent act of bad business judgment.

This is Rob Long, and on today’s Martini Shot I tell the story of the older actress who wouldn’t play a grandmother, because she didn’t think the audience saw her as the grandmother type. She was eighty. And in real life, a great grandmother.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I talk about that thing where when you go someplace foreign and you buy something you think you’re going to wear back home, but, you’re never going to wear it back home.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I struggle to wedge myself into child’s pose during yoga, while the woman next to me ignores the teacher entirely and just stretches out. It’s a lightbulb moment for me.

This is Rob Long, and on today’s Martini Shot, the first episode of my manifesto on how to get better television. It starts a little slow, like a lot of shows on premium cable and streaming services, but stick with it.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I tell the story of the young comedy writer who has dinner with the older comedy writer, and the young comedy writer has the temerity to say something funny. Bad move.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I talk about the time I was in Gori, Georgia and I sat in Stalin’s old reading chair and it was pretty weird, and then I twist that into an analogy about the entertainment business, as I usually do.

This is Rob Long, and on today’s Martini Shot I tell the story of two actors up for the same part who interpreted the character very differently, and what happened after that. Spoiler alert: they both got the job. Which almost never happens.

This is Rob Long, and on today’s Martini Shot I use a very grim battlefield metaphor to describe the new Best Popular Movie Oscar award, coming in 2019. It’s a little dark, but then so is the entertainment business.

This is Rob Long, and on today’s Martini Shot I talk about Crazy Rich Asians and Black Panther and the reason the oldest trade paper in Hollywood is called Variety, because Variety is good, the more of it the better.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I talk about the rule of skinny dipping — you don’t want to be the first one to strip down and jump in the pool. You want to be fourth or fifth. Depending on the attractiveness of the crowd. It’s a metaphor.

This is Rob Long, and on today’s Martini Shot I use a very big and weird word — mam-ihlapi-natapai — a word from the Tierra del Fuego which means the look shared by two people, each wishing that the other would initiate something that they both desire but which neither wants to begin. Which is every day in Hollywood.

Next week, we kill ourselves on a scooter. For KCRW, this is Rob Long. TEASER: This is Rob Long, and on today’s Martini Shot I talk about the sexy and irresistible topic of corporate governance and the lack of it in the entertainment business. Edgy, I know.

On today’s Martini Shot I give two friends totally different and contradictory advice, and I still think I was right. They disagree.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I give you the secret code to undermining every writer in your life. Just listen to whatever idea they’re working on and say cheerfully, Oh yeah, they did that.

This is Rob Long, and on today’s Martini Shot I talk about why good teams need new people, not good teams need nice people, which is why people at Time Warner are nervous about the new people at AT&T;.

This is Rob Long, and on today’s Martini Shot I talk about the two ways to respond to a knock on the door. They’re here, and they’re here. Guess which one I always do?

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I figure that if a bunch of lions is a pride and a bunch of turtles is a bale, a group of Writers should be called a Complaint. A complaint of writers.

This is Rob Long, and on today’s Martini Shot I talk about the most painful and psychologically damaging moment in a show business career, and that’s waiting at the studio guard shed for the gate arm to rise. Even when it does, it’s harrowing.

This is Rob Long, and on today’s Martini Shot I buy one of those organizer apps to make a to-do list of things I want to put into my other organizer app and I keep track of all of it using a notebook and a pen. So yeah, I’m writing.

This is Rob Long, and on today’s Martini Shot I discuss the 1938 discovery by a psychologist that people are at their most emotionally vulnerable when they’re eating, which is why everyone in show business is always trying to take you to lunch.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I talk about what everyone is talking about, the cancellation of Roseanne, but I talk about it in the context of Victorian menswear. Yeah, you heard me.

This is Rob Long, and on today’s Martini Shot I talk about how Twitter learns about you and suggests content for you, depending on an algorithm. Which means that Kanye West and Donald Trump have formed a very weird algorithm.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I talk about the best way to stay enthusiastic and creative and energized in the entertainment business, and that’s to have your show cancelled and need to come up with something new.

This is Rob Long, and on today’s Martini Shot I describe the ins and outs of being fired in show business, which I hope isn’t tempting karma.

This is Rob Long, and on today’s Martini Shot I pitch what I think would be a huge smash hit of a television show, that is, if I were pitching it, but I’m not really pitching it.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I go to great lengths to avoid following the simple rules of life: eat less, move more, there is no easier way.

On today’s Martini Shot I talk about Roseanne’s second week ratings, which were terrific, and what we can learn from that, which is that traditional sitcoms are back, and I make sure everyone listening knows that I am currently represented.

On today’s Martini Shot, I make a bold and courageous prediction: since the hugely successful premiere of the new Roseanne, there will be more shows like Roseanne on television. You heard it here first.

This is Rob Long, and on today’s Martini Shot I talk about the difference between TV shows set in the past, and TV shows from the past. One is nostalgia, the other is desperation.

This is Rob Long, and on today’s Martini Shot I try to figure out why everyone in my office is so cranky and ill-tempered. I mean, I know it can’t be me.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I talk about the true pioneers in the areas of film technology and computer graphics and making things look like other things: the plastic surgeons.

On today’s Martini Shot I give some important and useful advice to one of the richest and smartest people in the world, a true business visionary, and I’m not even humble about it.

This is Rob Long, and on today’s Martini Shot, I talk about a complicated moment from an old movie where they use a word that we don’t use much these days in a way that is actually kind of funny. Yeah, I think that’s vague enough.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I describe the classic pose of the buyer and the seller: one person leaning forward at the table, the other leaning back, arms folded. Always know which one you are.

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I uncover the secret to show business success, which is: if it worked before, do it again. I mean, you know, make a few changes, but basically do it again.

Today I hang out in a movie theater lobby and watch people enjoying the virtual reality machines more than the movie they came to see. A glimpse of the future.

At a certain point during post-production, when whatever you’re working on is in the editing stage, you have to choose between making an edit that helps the pace, uses the best take, removes an element you no longer need — any number of useful and necessary things — and one that doesn’t show the coffee cup suddenly appearing in the star’s other hand.

Hey, are you busy on Saturday? This Saturday, the sixteenth?

KCRW has been broadcasting the best and freshest music, commentary, news, and astonishing audio for decades — and for about as long, people have been listening to it and loving it and forgetting, or allowing  themselves to forget, that the station really does depend on the commitment of its listeners. 

The universal indicator of the health and prosperity of the entertainment industry — which is, the quality of the free snacks.

What makes a powerful man think that anyone wants to see his naked body, for any reason?

Money and death and weight and all of the things no one wants to talk about.

Rob pitches a simple app that would change the television business forever: something that makes it easy to cancel all of those channels we pay for.

The single most important and revealing document in the entire entertainment business — understand this and you understand Hollywood: the call sheet.

How to be an insider in the business: when you hear big, surprising news for the first time, act like you heard it months and months ago.

Rob learns the difference between real nudity on television, fake nudity on television, real nudity that's pixelated with blurry boxes, and fake real nudity that's pixelated with blurry boxes.

Rob pitches his best stuff to the town and this is what he hears: fun stuff, let us talk internally and get back to you.

Rob learns how to be more present, how to have a more still mind, how not to analyze everything he sees and hears by wondering if there's some angle in it for him. It's a work in progress.

Rob discovers the next Justin Bieber, because it's about time we had another one. This one is from Kazakhstan, and his name is Dimash Kudaibergenov. 

The perfect way for people in the entertainment industry to read the trades without being consumed by jealousy -- or, at least, unnecessary jealousy.

Why you need a joke to cover the cross and a button to end a scene and why some people get that and some people don't.

Rob promotes a lot of stuff on his Instagram feed, or wishes he could, if he had any followers.

Remember the old show business adage, give the people what they want? Rob updates it: just give three million people what they want. The rest of them will be watching home remodeling shows.

The only thing that really matters in the entertainment business isn't how much money an entertainment company has, but how long it's going to last. 

How to make a lot of money investing in the one thing that all humans have in common, the one thing that draws us all together: we're kind of lazy.

Discovering an organizational technique that the Executive Producer of World War II, Dwight Eisenhower, used when he was showrunning that multi-season action series.

Compare the brilliant business moves of Beyoncé to the not-so-brilliant moves of Justin Bieber, but of course both of them are paying attention to the end of the Hollywood monopoly, so both are making money.

How easy it is, apparently, to spend tens of millions of dollars on weird stuff and end up almost broke, and it's nice to know how easy it is to do something Rob can't afford to do.

What happened when Roger Moore died a few weeks ago and set off a firestorm of debate.

Rob talks about a 30-year-old movie and somehow makes it relevant, because the movie is relevant, because the movie makers re-shot the ending.

Rob flies all the way to Cuba to learn, or really, relearn, a lesson about show business.

Why we all wish we could kick people out of our dressing rooms, and also why it would be really great if we all had dressing rooms in the first place.

Rob's reading The Count of Monte Cristo for the first time, and it's a very long book, but not as long as a lot of these TV shows people keep talking about, and at least in the book, stuff happens on every page.

Rob pays money to sit in a Broadway theater to see a musical version of a movie he paid money to see in the movie theater without music or dancing a few years ago.

The complicated rituals involved when one writer steals another writer's material. 

Although he doesn't succeed in explaining all of the issues involved in the current contract negotiations between the Writers Guild and the producers, Rob does identify the key issue: it's all about the calendar

Rob checks Twitter during a live appearance and reads what people are saying about him.  And then he makes mid-course adjustments.  Not proud of it, but he does.

Rob tries to connect with the kids by having a bunch of meetings and coming up with a truly terrible idea. Just like Pepsi

This is Rob Long and on today's Martini Shot I actually do deliver today's Martini Shot. I've been gone for a bit. Please tell me you noticed. You did, right?

Rob comes up with alternative theories about hit movies and television shows, because that's how you know you've got a hit TV show or movie, because audiences insist on rewriting it totally.

Rob offers a depressing, comparison between being the executive producer of a television show, being an executive producer of a television show, and being president of the United States.

Rob offers a soothing way to ring in 2017.

Rob take a break from complaining about everything and worrying about stuff he can't change and does something meaningful and concrete -- and then goes right back to the complaining and worrying.

Today's celebrities try to sell you wine and cigarettes and hair products and low calorie beer. Also Studebakers and toxic breath freshener. In other words, it's hard to be a celebrity pitchperson

Rob comes up with a better and more movie-star name for Benedict Cumberbatch. Archie Leach became Cary Grant; Frances Gumm became Judy Garland, and Benedict Cumberbatch should become Batch Benjamin. Otherwise he'll never make it big.

Rob makes a glancing but significant reference to the election results, but promises not to talk politics. Instead, he talks politics-adjacent.

This holiday season, Rob's declaring multi-device bankruptcy.

Rob makes fun of a friend of because he's relentlessly focused and totally impossible to distract, then realizes that he's actually very successful and happy because of these very traits, which is often the way it is with people we make fun of.

Pretty much every entertainment device since the magic lantern, since cave people sitting around a campfire, got hot, was dangerous, and could explode. The Samsung Galaxy 7 fits in a long tradition.

What would it be like to have your own magical and always-full ATM?  Sort of the way Time Warner must feel, as it approaches being bought by AT&T -- a new and endless source of money to spend.

Silence, as we all know, is the most effective and cutting way to raise your voice....

This is Rob Long and on today’s Martini Shot I spend most of my time talking about the second most talked-about thing in the entertainment industry, which is, where on the lot do you park? The most talked-about thing is, of course, when did you buy your house, and what did you pay for it.

Rob laughs at a couple of very famous people's physical misfortunes, and then feels bad about it because he's told they're real people, which is something he often forgest, because he's not totally convinced it's true.

The secret of appearing like an insider: whenever anyone delivers surprising or unexpected news, just sigh and say, "Oh, is that out?"

Rob takes all of those clichés about Millennials and flips them upside down, because A) that's a more accurate picture and B) he doesn't want to anger the young people

Rob tries to pace eating his lunch with a friend who is eating his lunch, but then he eats his cookie and Rob gets ice cream. And, yes, there is a metaphor about life in there somewhere.

Rob tells you the exact number of your friends who don't like you as much as you like them. He doesn't tell you who they are. You just have to figure that out for yourself.

Rob break his rule and talks politics, just for a moment, and just the only way he can: by talking about show business first.

Rob tries to step around the nasty arguments on Facebook without stepping in any of them, and still ends up having to scrape some of them off his shoe.

Rob tries to talk about Comic Con the way it should be talked about -- as a giant promotional event that's all business and no play.

Rob shakes his fist at progress like an old, deranged man -- in other words he talks about Pokemon Go, and Hollywood, and how one is going to eat the other.

Rob takes a simple, successful movie franchise and extends its financial value by rebooting it, then reversing it -- which means he never has to come up with another original movie idea again.

Rob dresses up as a famous movie character and beats the stuffing out of someone dressed up as another famous movie character, and they keep doing it until they get sued. 

Rob makes a series of painful confessions surrounding politics, Interstate 40, Hollywood pettiness, and trying to be happy for other people's success. He more or less pulls it off.

Rob helps actors with their headshots and writers with their pitches and even executives with their office politics. He says to stop worrying about the boss, because the boss is only worried about the boss one level up.

Rob sends you a LinkedIn request to join your professional network and then endorses you for your many skills and then we both get lots of push alerts and notifications and we both wonder why we're on LinkedIn.

Rob discovers that recaps are a really great way to get out of watching television.

Rob talks about DC and Marvel, Sunni and Shia, and whether cancer can be funny -- all in three minutes. Yes, it's a stretch, but that's sort of the point. 

Some people just like choosing from among available options.

Rob on how hard it can be to direct actors, who are hypersensitive and ego maniacal and in that respect resemble everyone else in your life and on the planet, and that's: make them think it's their idea.

Rob on Twitter bots, followers for sale, and because it's the law that he cannot be ignored, Donald J. Trump.

Rob tells us the best sales technique in the world, which is to make your pitch and then fall silent -- which he has a hard time doing.

Rob eats ice cream and bread in front of an actor who needs to lose weight -- and he's not sorry about it.

How losing two million dollars on a show is something to celebrate...for someone else.

Remembering a great teacher.

How the late Andy Grove, of Intel, helped make it easier for executives to give notes.

You know when you're at a party and you're leaving and you make this long circuit to say goodbye? Don't do it. Do a French Exit. Just walk out.

There's no not-weird way to say this. Rob asks Nancy Reagan out on a date.

Rob's complicated and probably unsuccessful attempt at comparing the navigation app Waze to his current creative process. . .

Rob fast forwards through all the screeners he got this year. It's sort of an industry secret.

Today's Martini Shot is all about Beyoncé. Well, it's about Rob and Beyoncé. That came out wrong.  It's about money and Beyoncé.

The secret to keeping your production on budget. Just arrange to have your credit card declined.

Rob wishes he could do what Orson Welles did, which was to shoot ten pages in a night.

Rob figures out how to save Al Jazeera America cable news network. Too late, of course, but he does figure it out.

Is being a Donald Trump impersonator a major career move or a boat act?

Rob raises money for his candidate...not really. 

Rob gets super financial and explains a hedge fund Powerpoint deck.

Rob does what every producer in Hollywood does all the time: complain about the marketing budget.

Rob gives away all the secrets to Star Wars and doesn't even say Spoiler Alert.

Rob finds an old spy manual, filled with ways to sabotage any organization, and notices that all of them are in wide use at every major studio.

Attempting the impossible for a writer in the entertainment business -- to be grateful and uncomplaining.

Unsolicited advice to someone who is more famous and successful than Rob, just like a real journalist.

A new rule for keeping a TV audience engaged in a show: you just kill all of the good guys.

What every tired and out-of-material stand up comic does: talk about the differences between New York and Los Angeles -- as if there are any.

Rob sets up an email to set up a conference call and then a text to remind himself about it and then a call after the call to talk about what happened on the call. It's called "work" but not much work gets done.

Being a writer is a little bit like being a shepherd: it's quaint, people envy the solitude, but no one's afraid of a shepherd.  

Why movies succeed and why they fail and why the phrase isn't "The name is Smith. James Smith."

If you've got a political point to make, and you're clever, you can pretty much sneak it into anything.

Rob talks about two of Los Angeles' favorite topics: politics and traffic.

Rob discovers that the most immature and impulsive segment of the population are old people who act like teenagers.

Inside the OODA Loop of television development. It's a military thing, which, surprisingly, really applies.

Why do TV shows have dumpy guys married to beautiful wives, and movies have really old dudes married to young women, but it's never the other way around? Rob senses a marketing opportunity.

Rob attends a meeting to come up with something really new and different. But it's meeting, so that doesn't happen.

Rob sends a shout out to the bankrupt Relativity Media company. Because a successful movie and an unsuccessful movie both employ the same number of people, so more movies, more better.

The TV business is like the oil business -- we keep pumping shows out of the ground until there're just too many shows and the price collapses. We need a show business OPEC.

It's nice to have options.  This is LA, after all. Things fall apart. Projects collapse. People flake.

What primates do when they present themselves to each other.  It's what we do around here, when we pitch.

Rob turns into the dark anti-hero he's always wanted to be.

On dating and television programming, which are a lot more alike than you'd think, both being complicated, expensive, and futile.

Going back to a time when Dynasty and Laverne and Shirley were hit TV shows, now known as Empire and Broad City.

With no original material, Rob does everybody else does: he steals from Twitter.

Getting ordered around town by Arnold Schwarzenegger, who turns out to know the very best traffic shortcuts.

Every entertainment executive should work at the Olive Garden for a day. Not exactly, but close.

Trying to do the impossible: to enter the gates of a studio and park for a meeting when it's the wrong studio and still maintain a small amount of personal dignity.

What happens in Rob's brain when a pitch meeting goes well, which is that it stops working and says strange, nonsensical things.

Wading into the recent controversy about what Jerry Seinfeld said about college kids. That they're insufferable killjoys.

Explaining why a movie won't work at the box office, right after it hasn't worked at the box office.

Using Evernote to prove that the entertainment business is about to get very crazy and very good, especially for writers. This is not a scientific conclusion.

Breaking the tribal rule that binds all Hollywood writers together, Rob gives credit to a development executive.

Rob takes a story with the worst and most dysfunctional moral ever, then kind of twists it so it comes out okay.

Sometimes when the star makes a demand you give in, sometimes you don’t.

Belated advice to Trevor Noah, and anyone else who suddenly goes from Internet famous to actually famous.

Furious Seven, Coca-Cola, and how hard it is to change people's favorite things just enough.

The big difference between sampling – where music producers reuse someone else's hook and borrowing, which is what comedy writers do to each others' material.

Rob solves the problem of television network programming

Meerkat is the latest amazingly disruptive and revolutionary app that manages to, basically, recreate 1950's live television.

The last place that might believe the characters from the show Friends could afford that apartment -- North Korea.

Next time Rob heads into in a pitch meeting and someone asks if they can get him something to drink, he's going to say yes.

What you do when you suddenly wonder what your life is all about. You do what studios do when they're making an expensive movie and they don't like the ending. They stop production and figure it out.

The new and exciting directions the entertainment business is going in – a more disruptive and entrepreneurial way of doing business. And all of those words mean only one thing: the writer's not getting paid.

Getting fired, firing someone, and Rob's personal choice, just passive-aggressively ignoring them until they stop appearing in his line of sight.

Rob's totally on fleek. And if you have to ask what that means, don't bother.  No one will be saying it in a week or so.

Sometimes really excellent actors have a hard time knowing the difference between things that happened to them in real life and on screen. News anchors, too. Not unrelated.

What the producers of the movie Selma do to historical fact as "giving history a little face lift and tummy tuck."

The worst way to sell someone on anything is to assume that they need it. No one wants to hear that.

A change of venue – and a change in climate – can boost your creativity. It can, but it can also freeze your hair.

What do you do when you want to take charge but don’t know, exactly, what you’re talking about?

Rob rings in the new year with a To Don't list, which is like a To Do list -- but the opposite.

Rob tell you the four words you need to have a happy and safe 2015.  Four words that can save you a lot of trouble.

Jay Z and Beyonce and the heirs to the British throne watch basketball because, as we know, all famous people know each other.

Rob tries to be grateful for the man, Bill Cosby, who reinvigorated the television comedy business and separate his accomplishments from his actions.  It doesn't work very well. 

Where will you be this Saturday and Sunday?

Rob gets some bad news in the worst way possible: directly, honestly, and not from his agent.

Rob gives out some advice to young writers that makes their life easier and their work better, but unfortunately costs them half of their pay.

Rob discovers the secret to long-running success: make sure your co-stars never go below their contractually-mandated weight.

Rob tells a joke and plays a joke and get one played on him.  The first two, he thinks, are funny.  For some reason that last one isn’t.

The only business that’s falling apart faster than Hollywood is politics.  Couldn’t happen to nicer folks.

Some actors give up their dreams of stardom and move out of Los Angeles, only to discover there’s more work available in Hollywood when you don’t live in Hollywood.

Rob learns the difference between new, old, and really old. It’s okay to be new and to be really old. In the middle, not so much.

Rob manages to do something most writers in Hollywood cannot do: he actually enjoys another writer’s successful television show.

Rob tells someone with a lot of big problems that can’t be fixed that they have only one small problem that can. In other words, he follows the Fix It Rule.

On this week's Martini Shot, Rob fails an essential job interview question to work for Peter Thiel’s venture fund. Or, for that matter, to have a hit television show. It’s the same question.

On this week's Martini Shot, Rob is not hired to play himself. He don’t have the chops, apparently.

Rob learns that some people only hear what they want to hear, and some people never hear what they want to hear. The effect is the same: people get mad at him.

Rob gets inspired to come up with really creative and fresh ideas. The inspiration came from his accountant.

This week, Rob remembers the moment that Robin Williams threw eggs in the air and told them to "Fly. Be Free."

Rob gives you the tick tock on events in the media space. Which is what he always does, but now he's using hipper lingo.

Rob learns that in show business, if you try to be nice, you won’t get any credit, but if you don’t try, it’ll be worse. As usual, this applies beyond show business.

This week, Rob tells you the secret to having a hit TV show: the audience has to know when it’s on.

Rob talks about two of the more popular names for girl babies today – Katniss and Khaleesi. If those names mean nothing to you, you need to watch more TV.

This week, Rob searches Spotify for a song called “Wiggle” and gets some interesting songs to listen to.

Today, for the first time ever, Rob attempts to monetize Martini Shot, and even monetize this promo, by reminding everyone that my two books have been republished in one volume and are available on Amazon and fine bookstores everywhere.

Rob learns a lesson from a highly competitive, brutally honest nine year-old. As if there’s any other kind.

On today’s Martini Shot Rob talk about two kinds of people: the ones who like conflict and the ones who avoid it. Guess which group is richer?

On today’s Martini Shot, Rob tries to limit himself to saying things that fit the following criteria: Is it true, is it kind, and is it necessary. It’s a very short Martini Shot.

Rob helps out a writer friend with a new script by giving him totally contradictory advice. In other words, he acts like an agent.

A wry take on real life in Hollywood.

A writer Rob knows fires his assistant without telling him.  But it has a happy ending.  Well, not for the writer...

Rob gets all dressed up, because maybe a t-shirt and sneakers sends the wrong message.  Why dress business casual for a business that isn't, really?

Rob takes his dog to the beach and watches her retrieves a tennis ball. And when someone compliments her, he takes credit for it. In other words, he acts like a producer.

Rob appears in all sorts of media, both video and audio, but no matter where he appears, it’s always the same: he looks tired and fat.

Rob flies through the air like a superhero. Actually, he just jumps over a puddle. But it feels the same.

Rob wrote this Martini Shot on a conference call. He also bought a ticket to New York. He does a lot of things when he's on a conference call. Except pay attention.

Rob becomes a director. One who occasionally forgets to say, "Cut." And "Action." Turns out, directing is hard work. Who knew?

Rob's punished for texting while driving, by being rear-ended by someone who was texting while driving. It's a morality tale...

A few weeks ago, the Writers Guild of America, West -- or whatever it's called right now -- I can't pretend to keep up with the baffling series of Writers Guild of America, East versus Writers Guild of America West conflicts.   Especially since they all seem to involve a lot of angry, ad hominem exchanges, expensive legal fees, plentiful mentions of the blacklist, and lots of petitions signed by writers who were really big in the 1970's. Really, at a certain point, your mind just goes "click" and you tune the whole thing out...

In the television business, this is pitching season.  This is the time when writers file into network offices, sit down on waiting-room sofas, flip through that day's trades, get asked "Can I get you guys anything?" and are then led into a large office with a bunch of young executives and a guy named Josh who has a yellow legal pad on his lap, make some small talk, chuckle appreciatively, endure a small, expectant silence, and then go into the pitch....

This is going to sound crazy, but the truth is, I don't really know any celebrities. I mean, I know a few well-known people, I guess, and I've worked with famous people, but I don't really know anybody famous. You know, like, friends of mine. I don't know what it's like to be out to dinner with someone and get interrupted by autograph seekers, or to walk through a fourth of July of flashbulbs...

Rob redefines a hit TV show.  It's anything that could possible have its own Kickstarter.

Everything can work, there’s nothing that audiences won’t like.  As long as it’s good...

Rob gets some bad news about a project and, like all writers, he can only think about one thing: where is he going to eat?

We have a very good creative dialogue in which only one person gets to talk. In other words, we get notes on our script.

A new app Rob thinks everyone in Hollywood – or at least everyone in his address book – should have. It's called Secret and it's a way to...

Rob runs into an old PA at lunch. Twenty years ago, he was clueless, sweaty and doughy. Now he’s sleek and successful, and Rob’s a little sweaty and doughy and clueless.

Looking for signs. When the phone rings and you're doing something cool, it's good news. When it rings and you're taking out the trash, don't answer it.

For 2014, get stuff done on time, be prompt, in other words, to be a completely different kind of person.

A really cool way to steal a lot of money from ATM's. Only trouble is, according to law enforcement, it could never work in real life...

Ruining the ending to an old movie, and old play and World War II.  Spoiler alert!

Dreams about winning the lottery.  Or, daydreaming about winning the lottery, which happens a lot more often.

What every single producer, writer, or director in the entertainment business has done since the beginning -- irritate one’s editor with stupid questions.

A lesson about karmic justice. It doesn't exist in the entertainment industry...

Rob sorts through his clothes, like some kind of archaeologist sifting through ancient ruins. What he discover is…

A conversation with a movie producer about how fat is too fat in a presidential candidate. In other words, does a possible President Chris Christie make me look thinner?

Sitting in the parking lot of an editing facility, Rob tries to gin up the courage to watch a rough cut. He eventually finds it, but only because it's a contractual obligation.

When stand-up comedians are completely out of material, resort to two basic topics: the differences between men and women, and the differences between New York and LA.

Rob buys a new pen and some socks and carry around a little piece of paper. Good luck charms for a new production.

Rob tries to cast a role for a very large person, but makes a big mistake: he uses the term “hugely overweight” in the character description. He’ll never do that again.

Rob Long remembers AC Lyles, the Mayor of the Paramount lot, and the best-dressed man in show business.

On today’s Martini Shot I figure out how never to come up with a new idea for a comedy. Just do the funny version of a successful drama.

Rob speaks truth to power: if a writer surfs the web all day, the writer doesn't get paid. If an executive surfs the web all day, the executive gets promoted…

The trick to making a sale: you make your pitch, and then you shut up. It's the shutting up part that messes most people up.

Rob faces what can only be described as an ethical dilemma. Which is unusual for him because he doesn't usually have ethics.

Rob talks about the second worst thing in the world: pitching a show the network doesn’t really want. The worst thing, of course, is pitching something they do.

Rob adds a laugh track to every single sentence he says.

Rob goes on a series of mini vacations, which sounds like dementia, but is in fact a way to get through a lot of stress at work.

Rob Long imitates assistants trying to schedule a meeting between their very two busy bosses, neither one of whom wants to be perceived as accommodating the other.

Rob skirts FCC decency regulations by referring to as many objectionable and dirty words as possible, just like on network television.

When everything's going well in your show business career it's because you don't understand what really bad thing is about to happen. Beware the invisible ninth planet.

Rob asks for younger and better looking extras, and ends up with a bunch of middle school kids...

Rob puts on a pair of $6 reading glasses and learns just how easy it is to look like he's thinking hard. Cheap, too. Beats actually thinking hard.

We put Hollywood on the couch and discover why it’s so interested in zombies these days. Can you say, projection?

Rob Long reveals the secret to being a powerful and effective agent: listening to clients on the phone, playing Candy Crush, and doing nothing.

In the worst possible move, Rob reads an article about himself on the web, and then reads the comments.

We learn the nice way to pass on a television pilot, and a soothing term for a plane crash. A controlled flight into terrain. A perfect show business euphemism...

The three things that make a great movie producer: lots of money, an impulsive nature, and an irrational mind. Those last two tend to be a drain on the first.

What happens when the world wide web meets the old television business, or what Rob Long calls, the world wide Webster.

We take two million dollars and we give it to forty eight people we find on Hollywood Boulevard.  Or, as some call it, we focus group a pilot.

We repaint a set instead of doing what we need to do, which is rewrite the scene. But repainting is easier because somebody else has to do it.

On today’s Martini Shot, I sell a series without a script starring an actor who doesn’t even know the project exists.  In other words, it’s pilot season.

Rob Long makes demographically undesirable references and attempt to appeal to the young people on the Facebook website.

Rob complains about other writers who complain about other writers, and decries the pettiness of his colleagues in a really petty way.

An actor throws a big party to watch his television debut.  What he doesn't know is, he's been cut from the show.  Humiliation, as always, makes the best comedy.

I handle my powerful enemies in the best Hollywood way: I wait like a coward until they’re fired, and then I pounce.

An actor fires his agent for telling the truth, and another fires his agent for lying. In other words, we do the impossible: we sympathize with agents.

Rob Long wears a thing on his wrist that tells him how much exercise he's gotten and how long his career might last. It syncs to his phone.

Everyone in Hollywood hires lawyers to protect against the disaster that happens when something is successful. It's perverse, which is why only the lawyers understand it.

Rob Long loves improvisational comedy -- especially when they write it down and rehearse it first.

Fashion and style tips for the working writer. Tip One: remove the tag before the meeting.

Rob Longs talks about a writer who discovered that being accurate and truthful is a fast trip to the remainder bin. The only way to get rich is to make it all up.

Rob Long talks about the most famous maxim of show business – Nobody knows anything – and why it's true and why the opposite – Everybody knows everything – is also true.

On today’s Martini Shot, I start with Game of Thrones. Spoiler Alert: I like it. But by episode 7, I was ready to start with the zombie show.

On today’s Martini Shot I go public with my New Year’s resolution, which is to be a little bit smarter than a tiny baby.

Rob gains weight and then lies about it.  It’s a nice way to start 2013.

Rob give some cheap advice to network and studio executives. Tell him how much you love the script and give him as many notes as you like…but in that order.

Rob demands Christmas presents, cheats at Secret Santa, and asks you for money in this holiday "Martini Shot."

Rob hangs out at an old Hollywood restaurant, watches an anchorman smoke, and identifies a promising young network executive...

I used to live near a coffee place that had a fun tradition of choosing someone from their long line of customers and dubbing that person, Customer of the Week. They’d take your picture and post it next to the register and you’d get free coffee for that week and you’d bask in the approval of the pierced young people behind the counter, and pretend not to notice the other patrons noticing you, your celebrity, and the modest way you carried yourself during your special week.

Rob eats dinner with some friends and they stack up their cell phones on the table. First person to peek at his or her phone picks up the check...

Rob Long gets a free trip to a former Soviet republic and somehow applies that to show business.  It's complicated.

Something most people in Hollywood would rather not do: make the script better. By listening to executive notes.

Rob dives into an old controversy about women comedy writers, aggressive joke pitching, and the transgendered...

Rob Long on one of the stupidest things he's said – not ever, just in the past 48 hours – and how you can sometimes be both stupid and smart.  Or at least he can...

The only reason anyone is nice to anyone else in the entertainment business: because friends are your retirement plan.

Rob impresses an agent by ordering a cobb salad.  Apparently, impressing an agent is easy to do...

Rob Long on the only way to save a project from certain failure: fire the writer.

Rob Long on the foundations of the television business: funny jokes at the end of the scene and attractive people to look at. Everything else is just, art.

Rob Long talks about smoking, which is a deadly and cancer causing habit, of course, but does make bad dialogue seem more interesting.

Rob Long talks about his highly professional way of meeting deadlines.  Which is by figuring out how they don't really apply.

Rob Long talks to others in the entertainment business and gets talked to in return – like you would a dangerous and volatile mental patient. Works like a charm.

Rob Long talks about good news and bad news, the difference between pessimism and catastrophic thinking. He also converts to Judaism.

Rob Long talks movie stars, CGI, Bob Saget, and little people.  Somehow, he make it work...

Rob Long talks about that famous movie where two women go on a crime spree and drive off a cliff. He’s speaking, of course, about 'Laverne & Shirley.'

Long on the theft and plagiarism that occurs when the Chinese steal sit com jokes and characters that hard working American writers stole from the Dick van Dyke show.

Long talks about the most powerful part of the human body, if you work in television. It's the thumb. The thumb that tweets.

My dog has a rubber toy that has a hollow core, and what you’re supposed to do is fill the core with peanut butter or cheese or cubes of something delicious, and watch as she nudges it and bounces it and tries to get at the treat inside, but in general just stares at it with a totally baffled expression which is the exact same expression most people in the television business have when they’re trying to figure out what the ratings mean.

Rob Long tries and fails to baby-proof his brain.  It's a complicated metaphor, but...

Rob Long learns something from the people who work at the Apple Store: when you go on break, always take off your T-shirt and ID badge.

Rob Long tries to follow the only rule in screenwriting: he tries not to be boring.

Rob Long muses on the only two things that anyone in Hollywood really cares about. Getting credit and getting paid.  Not in that order.

Rob Long on who gets credit – and money – for what on a writing staff.  And more importantly, who gets blame. 

Rob Long discusses the three stages of a writing staff – when everybody's nice, when everybody's funny, and when everybody's mean.  It happens fast.

Rob Long goes to a French restaurant, tries to break the rules, and fails -- and he twists the whole thing into a parable about the entertainment business.

Rob Long drives around and gets lost, and then does what people do when they're in the car and trying to figure things out: he turns down the radio.  It's a metaphor...

Rob Long can't take a compliment from an executive, and as punishment, he's subjected to an awkward personal conversation. It was worse than it sounds.

Rob Long talks about the cruelest thing you can do to a room full of writers. No, not more script notes. It involves lunch.

Rob Long spins a writer's fantasy. What would it be like to spend a day with a studio or network executive, and give them notes and comments about their job?

Rob Long talks about golf, dating, food poisoning, and how all three are perfect ways to describe the television business.

The only thing Rob Long doesn’t really like is goat cheese, but for some reason, people still want him to try it. How that’s like getting script notes from executives.

Rob Long suffers with a sore throat, which he didn't get from screaming at the production staff -- although it doesn't hurt to let people think otherwise.

Rob Long finally break down and gets what everyone in Hollywood has.  An assistant.  Now he just needs something for him to do.

It's hard to be a star these days. There's so much competition...

Rob Long learns exactly how long an actor will remember the worst night of their career. Answer: twenty years.

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Rob Long cleverly embeds an advertising message for a popular brand of Diet Soda in an example of integrated advertising. You won't even notice it.

Rob Long discover how much he like agents. Even when they're making no sense at all.

The twin devils that every writer struggles with when he or she starts a new project: we know exactly how it's going to turn out, and that makes us pre-irritated.

Rob Long finds some garbage in the street, and does what any writer would do. He criticizes it!

Rob Long cleans out his garage, hauls away a pile of old junk, and gets a lesson in sizzle...

Rob Long somehow manages to convincingly – he hopes – compare television shows, this year’s crop of Oscar nominated movies, and complicated Japanese toilets.

Someone finally makes money on the web. And it’s not a cat playing the piano. Century City is quaking in fear.

Rob Long talks about bitter jealous rage, unhealthy mental attitudes, and stewing in your own bilious filth -- and how all of those things will make you successful.

There’s probably no one in the entertainment business who hasn’t thought, at some point, “that’s it.  No more of this.  I’m out of here.... ”

On today's Happy New Year Martini Shot, Rob Long talks about the Golden Globes, fifth grade math tests, and North Korean dictator Kim Jong Il...

Rob Long on just how bad some of his real life dialogue can be...

Rob Long makes a fool of himself at Home Depot, but for a very good reason....

Rob Long answer the world's most important question...

Rob Long on the first and only way to get something you really want. You have to ask for it -- at least three times....

Rob Long on the differences and similarities between late night wine-fueled Internet shopping, and watching the first cut.

The movie business is smarter than the television business, because in the movie business they get their money before they let you see the movie....

Rob long tells us what the three biggest mistakes television producers make are. But, as usual, it's a metaphor...

Rob long takes cruel and old-fashioned nineteenth century techniques for dealing with the insane, and uses them on his co-workers.

Rob Long on the valuable contributions, and the blessing of the TSA agent with the rubber glove.  Really...

Rob Long talks about why the most irrational and insane way to do business is probably the best and only way we can do it, at least when it comes to the entertainment business.

Everyone knows that in Hollywood, if you're waiting to hear some news, it's probably not good news. Good news, for some reason, just races along. Good news catches the breeze...

I met a friend last week who I hadn't seen in a few years. Well, it's probably more accurate to say he's a friend of a friend. The last time we met, he had written...

In movies and on television, when characters sit down to work on a computer–and even when one is just there, in the background–it's almost always a Mac, despite the fact that...

I once knew someone who had two ways to say the word "because…." She would pronounce it one way…another way at other times… and I spent a few years being baffled...

People who work in show business tend to be sort of perversely proud of how nutty it is. We like to think...it's more a case of making lemonade out of lemons – but we talk...

Not too long ago, I was trying to cast a television show, and we wanted to cast a certain actor who just wasn't doing television...

For two weeks in the summer, Hollywood empties out. This happens twice a year – the town also evacuates during the weeks around Christmas and the New Year and...

I have a friend who has 13,487 Twitter followers, and the reason I know that is because he mentions it a lot. Like at lunch, the waiter will come and he'll say...

Write what you know, is the advice writers often get.  Which in Los Angeles, unfortunately, means a lot of scripts about private school tuition and Prius driving, suggesting...

I was talking things over with some colleagues yesterday – we're all working together on a project, and we were trying to figure out what the best way to get it set it up at a network might be...

Once, not too long ago, I went to a fancy store on a Saturday afternoon to buy a suit.  Before I went to the store, though, I took the dog to the dog park and replaced a bunch...

Around the corner from me in Venice Beach is a restaurant with an unpronounceable name. Or maybe it's only pronounceable if you're cool enough, and clearly, I'm not...

An actor friend of mine once fired his agent for sending him out on too many auditions where he looked exactly like everyone else auditioning...

An actor friend of mine – yeah, I have them – once landed a fair-sized part on a series. When he shared the news with his then-best friend...

Ashton Kutcher is about to save television. Okay, he's not exactly saving it...

Some celebrities have side businesses, like restaurants or cosmetic lines. Some appear in Japanese commercials, some on the Home Shopping network...

When things get too complicated, or I want to get out of a conversation, I get itchy. Upgrading software, calling customer support, figuring out a second act...

The story goes that halfway through the first script reading for an episode of Lucille Ball's final, doomed ABC sit-com in the late 1980's, she stopped mid-sentence...

I had this fever for about three weeks – and that's not a euphemism, I mean an actual hot brain, exhausting, sweaty alarmingly high body temperature thing that kept recurring at regular times during the day, until the cycles got tighter and eventually it just came and stayed, and I spent about three days stumbling around New York city with glazed eyes and burning ears and occasional lapses in consciousness.

The way the television business used to work was, if you had a pilot in production, you'd call up your writer friends and ask them to help out for a day, and they would – usually with some grumbling...

There are really only two kinds of businesses that make sense. One, you can make a billion things and sell them for one cent each, or Two, you can make one thing and sell it for a billion dollars...

A friend of mine finally hit the big time. She was asked to star in her own reality television series. She turned it down flat. I know myself well enough," she told me...

Sometimes, when I tell friends of mine who are not in the entertainment business, about the goings-on within the entertainment business, I get a sad little chuckle and a shake of the head in response, as if to say, You guys are nuts.  I’ll never understand it....

Not too long ago, I was producing a pilot and like all pilot-producing experiences, this one had its moments of panic, short-tempers, and those weird moments where you think we're talking about a script and a TV show, but we're actually talking about the network executive's crippling fear of the network president, or the studio executive's stomach-churning regret over having leased the Mercedes and not the Audi, which would have been a safer choice since everyone knows there are going to be big changes in the studio development department right after pilot season...

You’d think that a business famous for its double-talk and lack of candor would have more complicated and oblique jargon, but the entertainment business is pretty straightforward when it comes to that.

I'm teaching a writing class this semester at a large local university. Just one semester. Just one class.

When I started working in Hollywood, in the early 1990's, people were still talking about a movie called Howard the Duck, which was a comedy about a duck, named Howard, that was produced by George Lucas, and released in 1986 to an astounding and undeniable thud. Howard the Duck was a big flop, and years later people still used it as shorthand to describe a movie's performance, as in: the picture didn't do well, but we're not in Howard the Duck territory...

When you don't have any information to go on, the only thing you can do is make some up. That's sort of the way the brain works – when it faces an unknown, grey area, it just fills in whatever seems to fit. We try to make logical sense out of things, like the weather and traffic and network television pilot orders, when there may not be any real sense to be made...

The dating website OK Cupid is run by nerds. Very very nerdish nerds, who like to analyze the huge amount of data a site like that generates -- clicks, likes, messages between members, attractiveness ratings, etc. That swirl of data gets crunched and processed and discussed in their excellent blog, and the results are never less than fascinating...

A friend of mine has a pilot script at a network that was developing three scripts that dealt with the same basic subject.  So there was no way they were going to order all three pilots – everybody going into the deal knew how it would shake down: the three scripts would come into the network, and they'd choose which one they were going to make, and then put on the sad-encouraging-upbeat tone of voice and call the other two writers with the news...

Not too long ago, I was shooting on location – well, that sounds rather glamorous: the location was West LA – but the whole company was out there, shooting in some nondescript house on one of those streets in west LA that seem to rise up out of nowhere, between a Nails by Yuki and one of those not-Jamba juice chains...

This town shuts down for the holidays, someone told me years ago, around the end of October. Which isn't really the holidays – unless you've got a thing for Columbus Day, but the point was this: get your pilot scripts in early, because the town shuts down...

Everyone in this business knows someone who's had a close call. I don't mean crossing the street and almost getting hit by a bus, I mean a career close call. I can think of two people right now that a couple of years ago were seriously thinking about packing it in and doing something else, and who are now probably listening to this while driving a very expensive new car on the way to a very expensive dinner. Life, and fortunes, change – especially in this business.

A friend of mine who lives at the beach once woke up at dawn to discover that the house next door was surrounded by brightly colored yellow tape emblazoned with the words, "DANGER! HAZARDOUS MATERIALS! DO NOT CROSS!" Alarmed, he headed out to see what was going on...

One of the least meaningful words in the English language is the word "creative," because it implies that there's something else, something “non-creative” and that the two things need to be separated somehow.  As if creative people are just all walking around, thinking creative thoughts while the other half, are, I don't know, data entry drones...

It wasn’t too long ago that you could walk through a hotel or some other kind of breakfast spot, and everyone you saw was buried in a copy of Variety, or its scappier cousin, The Hollywood Reporter..

I was late to a meeting recently – really late, I mean, like 25 minutes late – and I'm aware, of course, that even five minutes late is late, and that part of the problem with doing business in this business is that a lot of people, like me, don't think of five minutes late as being really late – we think of it as a cushion, as a mulligan we take throughout the day.  I'm not saying we're right to do it, but we've all, occasionally, done it...

It's a storytelling axiom in Hollywood – and it's good business, too – to remember that whenever it's at all possible to deliver a happy ending, deliver one. If at all plausible – and even if it's a real stretch of the imagination and credulity and sometimes sheer forgetfulness of an audience – make sure the guy and the girl end up together. Make sure the house doesn't burn down. Make sure that earth is saved, the hero triumphs, the marriage comes off, the warring partners are reconciled, and the dog comes home, dirty but happy...

Once, when I was thinking about renting a small office to write in, I looked at a space being vacated by another writer. He had already moved out, and the place was bare and bright and perfect, except for an index card, taped solidly to the wall at about the height where the writer's desk was...

In olden times – or back in the day, as the kids say – as if they have any idea what that day was even like – but back in the olden day, if you were writing a television comedy, you'd gather the writing staff into a room, and they'd talk out --- sometimes yell out – the rewrite, with each word or joke pitch copied down in furious shorthand, mostly, or something called "fast notes" or even, as the people in the world who knew shorthand were gathered up by the Reaper himself, there appeared a bunch of enterprising young assistants who could type really fast, and so computers began to appear in the writer's room, which meant computer screens, which meant, eventually, large computer screens for everyone to in the room to look at, which to my mind anyway was not progress.  Was not an improvement...

Once, not too long ago, I ran into an old friend at a party.  She was with her new boyfriend, and when I asked the normal stuff – you know, how long had they been going out, how did they meet, that sort of thing – she kind of waved her hand in the air and said, to forestall any more discussion, He's just somebody for now...

A friend of mine was running an action adventure show not too long ago, and he heard what I think is the worst pitch ever from a writer who wanted a free-lance episode. Our heroes confront a shadowy nemesis. That was it. That was the whole pitch. Which is admirable, in a way.  I mean, yes, I guess that would be an interesting episode, in that it describes every episode. But if you're on the other end of it, you kind of want more...

Here's how it used to work, all over show business. You'd show up at a meeting at a studio or network, and you'd wait for a few minutes and drink water from a foreign looking bottle, and then someone would come and get you – and not just you: sometimes it would be you and a few other people, like maybe your agent or someone – and then you'd go into an office and tell your little story and then...

Not too long ago, I had a meeting at a network. It was going to be a big meeting – big meaning a lot of people, not big meaning important. And these days, I shouldn't even really bother to say "big" either because every meeting I have seems to involve at least four more people than there are chairs, and one or two poor souls on speakerphone, who can't be heard, ever, because someone in the room is always talking and the speaker only goes one way, and they can't hear anything on their end anyway because that odd star-shaped speakerphone thing is positioned too close to someone with a pen-tapping habit, which manages to drown out the other voices...

A friend of mine pitched a television show last week to a big cable outfit.  He told me the pitch went really well – everyone was making good eye contact, they were nodding and taking notes attentively, laughing at the right spots, leaning forward at the exciting places – and then, he said, things went south...

I went to a party recently at a giant house out somewhere in the mountains around Malibu. It was one of those houses with lots of rooms and pools and splashing ponds, room for tennis and volleyball and outdoor living, enormous stones from some exotic river had been sent across an ocean in a shipping container, then dragged up the hill by smoking and squealing trucks, arranged along the pathways and then dramatically uplit. It was the kind of place that you walk around and think, instantly, this house belongs to a Bond villain.  I expected piranhas in the koi ponds and guys in matching jumpsuits...

It doesn't end well, I don't think, for the kids on MTV's Jersey Shore.  I don't know exactly what the third acts of those lives are going to be, but they don't strike me as the kind with the swooping orchestral track and the crane shot.  They strike me as the kind of third acts that end up in a Cinnabon somewhere...

If you've called me anytime since early last week, I probably didn't get the message, if you left a message, because I have no way of knowing there's a message waiting for me...

Anything you want to know about the television business you can learn from watching the Dick Van Dyke show, which has it all, including a perfect example of the mis-lead in the opening titles...

The best way to get money in Hollywood is to act like you don't need it.  That's the logic, I think, behind giving millionaire celebrities lots of cool, free swag just for announcing award nominees or showing up at a charity function. On the way home from some swank event, inside every expensive car gliding away from the port cochere – or whatever that's called, let's call it an awning, but an expensive one – there's the deafening sound of tissue paper being ripped apart, bags being emptied and turned out, as whoever is in the passenger seat – and, occasionally, the driver's seat, too – tears open the gift bag to find out how much free stuff they got...

A veteran television writer once said to me, "My career goal is to go home." Meaning, let's get this rewrite done and get into our cars as fast as possible. Real professionals in this business don't really want to have late-night writing sessions, or production shoots that go past eleven....

There’s an old story about a terrible production of the play, The Diary of Anne Frank. It was so awful, apparently, that in the scene early on, when the Gestapo comes to search the house, someone from the audience called out, “She’s in the attic!  She’s in the attic!” You know, because they wanted it over and stuff...

A few years ago, I got a call from a studio executive I was working with.  It was about this time of year – pitching season – and the executive wanted to know what, if anything, I was thinking about pitching...

A nice friend of mine wrote a great feature film script, and he gave it to me to read, he said. But he didn't really care if I read it. What he wanted me to do was send it along, to agents or producers or directors I know. Which was fine – it really is a great piece of work – but he's new to the business, so he asked me to wait a week. Until, he said, he had time to register it with the Writers Guild...

People often think that pitching a television series is unpleasant. It's not. It's not easy, of course – you sort of have to work out a lot beforehand, and then there's awkward small-talk to negotiate – but the process itself can be sort of fun. I mean, look, it's the easiest kind of sales call to make: the buyer is in the market to buy. They have a budget all worked out. It's sort of like selling cars – it's not easy work, of course, but anyone who walks onto a car lot and looks around for five minutes is going to buy a car from someone...

Last week, almost five million people refused to obey orders. They watched a show called Hot in Cleveland, which has older female stars who are well-known to television audience in a multiple camera sit-com shot in front of a live audience...

Hollywood is what they call an OPM business. Other People's Money.  That's really the key to success around here – the ability to take someone else's money and gamble it on an entertainment product, after taking a small fee, of course...

You can get all artsy about it, I guess, but the truth is, the way most writers approach a writing project is, first, they ask themselves this question: what's the least amount of writing I can do before someone will write me a check?

This is Rob Long with Martini Shot on KCRW and it's not 6:44 anymore, it's 4:44 now, which is called, in the television business, a time slot change...

Once, not too long ago, I went to a local coffee shop and ordered a tall coffee with room at the top for milk.  Those are pretty much the words I used: tall coffee, room at the top, but what I got was a tall coffee with no room at the top.  Filled to the rim... 

Hear that? That's silence.  That's what all writers are supposed to require to get anything done.  Except for the writers who want to hear this [loud music]...

A friend of mine loves to reminisce about the old days, when she first moved to Hollywood to make her way in the entertainment business. She arrived almost totally penniless, which is often a recipe for the first act of an ABC Afterschool Special – which they don’t even make anymore, I think, these days, when it’s impossible to shock anyone, especially a teenager. But back in the day, as people who do not realize just how powerful the gears of time are put it, back in the day, an ABC Afterschool Special was what you watched when you wanted to know what happened to kids who drank too much, or ran away, or got into strange vans. These days I guess kids don’t need to watch that on TV. They see it everyday. In homeroom.

The human life can be neatly divided into two halves. In the first half, when the phone rings, you think, "Oh, great!  Someone's calling me!" In the second half, when the phone rings, you think, "Oh.  Great.  Someone's calling me." In olden times, of course, when the phone rang, it really rang.  It wasn't just a twenty-second snippet of some Lady Gaga song.  And the phone was a shared object –  it could be for anyone, so when someone answered it, there was this delicious sense of mystery: who's calling?  Who's it for?

When I was trying to break into show business, and older, more experienced writer – I think he was twenty-five; I think he once had a script optioned by a Serbia-based producer – told me that the only way to break into television writing was to be on a list of network-approved writers. It was a real list, he said, with a lot of names on it, and only those names would ever be hired to be on a writing staff. Get your name on that list, he said.  It's the only way...

When I first moved here – and exactly when is really none of your business – I drove a battered old Subaru station wagon, with a rusted undercarriage and New Hampshire plates.  It burned a quart or so of oil every month, and when you made a left turn it emitted a smell like a burning plastic doll...

People love to say "Carpe Diem" or "Seize the Day," but they never tell who, exactly, to seize it from. I mean, you have to seize it from somebody, right?  If there was any time in your possession at all, you’d have seized it months – maybe years – before.   My theory is this: there are two kinds of people in this world: the kind that seize the day, and the kind whose day get seized...

For something that everyone in show business eventually has to deal with, you’d think we’d have come up with a better way to do casting. Although you have to marvel at the efficiency of the system.  When a casting call goes out, in something called, with unintentional accuracy, The Breakdown, wheels set in motion deliver to you, in a few hours, multiple human versions of whatever was described on paper...

This is Rob Long with Martini Shot… on…. KCRW I am here, just a minute I have to send this one email and then I'm here, totally, let me just….Send….this out. And now I'm done.  Here I am.  Sorry....

Not too long ago, I worked on a project with a friend of mine.  We wrote a script together, that, despite being the best script every written with one or two exceptions, didn't, as the current euphemism sweeping the business says, move forward...

For the past five years or so, I've been telling anyone who'll listen – well, boring anyone who'll listen – about my theories on the emerging economics of the television business. In a nutshell: the exploding universe of unlimited bandwidth combined with unlimited storewidth have created a classic case of margin squeeze....

When I first came to Hollywood to be a writer – and it's really none of your business when, exactly, that was – what I discovered was that every other writer I met seemed to be working on something, seemed to have some angle, some in with someone important. Everyone I met seemed to be one or two steps away from greatness...

About a week after I started working as a television writer, a guy who had been in the business a while was telling me a few stories from his career, and he wound up this way. "I've got a lot of stories like that," he said, "because I've spent twenty years in show business."

A "first look" deal is a deal between a producer or writer-producer and a studio or network that stipulates, essentially, that in exchange for a certain sum of money, the producer or writer-producer guarantees the counter-party (in this case, the studio or network) that they’ll have dibs – or "first look" – on any project or script that the other side comes up with.   What it doesn’t specify, of course, is what a "look" is, or what "first" means...

Having a baby is hard, I'm told, but it can't be harder than working with a baby.  And I don't mean that metaphorically, either.

The great thing about laughter – and the big reason most of the writers I know got into comedy in the first place – is that it's involuntary.  It erupts – that's what we say: the audience erupted into laughter – from some reptile part of the brain...

WEB EXCLUSIVE: Writers in Hollywood, as I might have mentioned once or twice before, get a lot of notes. From the studio. From the network. From the producer and the director and the actors and even, when they're stupid enough to ask for them, from their spouses and friends and colleagues...

It's pilot season – maybe you've detected the joy in the air?  It's come a little late this year – writers have been a little slower than usual with the rewrites and the drafts, mostly because for the past two weeks, any two writers together has meant at least two hours of conversation about Conan O'Brien and Jay Leno and Jeff Zucker and NBC and if you multiply that out – two writers times two hours times hundreds of projects all across the television industry – you end up with what economists might call “intrinsic inefficiencies...”

At some point in its creation, every writing project – a feature film script, a TV pilot, a four minute radio commentary, whatever --  is about twice as long as it should be.  And after you've played with the margins and fiddled with the font size, you eventually have to figure out what to cut...

Writing is supposed to be a solitary thing. A lonely life. Not in the television business. Writers for television are positively surrounded by people. Executives, producers, actors – we’re never really able to achieve that ratty-sweater-coffee-mug kind of arrangement. Sure, there’s a week or two when we’re left essentially alone to bang out a draft, but within a few hours of turning it in to our paymasters, we’re on the phone, getting notes and questions and requests for revisions...

Here's what it's come to. I take a simple kitchen timer – this one is shaped like a tomato – and I set it for 25 minutes. And then I sit in a chair and I work – mostly, I write – continuously focusing for 25 minutes...

One morning, a few years ago, when I had a show in production, I got a call from an executive at the studio.  He was calling to tell me that he couldn't be at the runthrough that afternoon, but he had a question about a certain line...

Writers, like farmers, can find the bad news in any kind of weather. When it rains, a little too much, farmers complain about the bumper crop, which means over supply and collapsing prices.  When it rains a little too little, they complain about  parched soil, no crops, lower income...

A lot of companies now offer a cool service.  They'll take your strings of voice-mails and automatically transcribe them into text.  There's an iPhone app that does a pretty good job of this, called Voxie.  And it's also a service of Google Voice, the Google-brand telephone service that lets you use one number for pretty much everything...

I have a friend who is a psychiatrist.  I once asked her what she does when she thinks a patient is lying to her.  "How can you really help someone," I said, "who isn't telling you what really happened?..."

In January of 1990, almost twenty years ago, I pitched a joke in the writers' room of TV's long-running, phenomenally popular comedy Cheers. The actual joke is forgotten – it wasn't a good one (I didn't pitch anything good, or even decent, for a while) but I was young, and it was my first real job, and so I knew about what someone who was twenty-four and starting his career knows, which is to say, nothing...

So, every writer has a Sinatra moment – you know what I mean, a moment when you got a note or a request from the studio or the network – change this character, make the mom younger, add a dog, don't mention cancer – you know, just the general stuff that every writer in Hollywood eventually has to deal with when the "art form" they've chosen – and yes, in case you didn't hear it, I made little quote marks in the air when I said "art form" – but when the "art form" that you've chosen requires $17 million worth of expensive equipment and three hundred people to bring to life, rather than a six dollar set of oil paints and a piece of canvas, you end up having to listen to a lot of people...

I have a friend who is working on a television show with two studios involved (which means two separate sets of studio executives, all giving notes and thoughts and suggestions on every single rewrite) and three non-writing producers, doing the same, and a separate set of network executives, doing the same...

The last time I went to New York, I got off the plane and headed to the cab line and thought: wait a minute. The line is huge. And the cab is going to run me about sixty bucks. So, overcome with a sudden attack of parsimony, I took the train. Bought a metro card, the whole thing. Got out on 51st street, headed to my hotel, and when I checked in they asked, “Do you need any help with your bags, sir?” and I said...

Not too long ago I was in a meeting with the president of a television network. The show I was working on at the time was on the air and successfully so. Sort of unusual for me, I guess, but it has happened in the past. Despite the impression that my four minutes here often conveys, I've had good meetings and successful exchanges and positive outcomes during my time here in Hollywood. And this was one of those meetings...

In the late 1980's, a huge phone company hired a top-of-the-line consultancy to make a forecast. Cell-phone usage was growing quickly, and the phone company needed to know how to plan for this new, business model transforming technology. So they paid these consultants a lot of money to answer this question: how many mobile phones will be in use in this country by the year 2000?

The cliché, of course, is that American television is awful.  You know the saw: bad sitcoms, predictable dramas, tame dialogue, soft characters.  About four years before it was even invented, people started hating television.  Now, not so much – there's a lot on that very good, and television's blood rival, feature films, have become mostly movies about robots, so TV – with its Mad Men and The Wire and 30 Rock and Weeds just seems more sophisticated...

Years ago, on my first day in film school – never mind how many years ago; let's just say, enough years ago – there was a guest speaker – I honestly don't remember who, but it was someone big, someone powerful, someone with real cred in the industry...

This is hard to believe but true. Not too long ago -- and when I say "not too long ago," I'm saying it from the perspective of someone who remembers some very old things, like that there used to be a hardware store on Montana Avenue in Santa Monica, before someone invented the $80 candle...

Hollywood is divided into two basic groups: the first group is the one-project types, the serial types. The second, the hedgers, the plates-in-the-air guys. Writers, directors, actors are in the first group – these are the people who do one thing at a time. They tend to immerse themselves in a project, focus on it, care about it. A writer will write a script, then worry over a rewrite, then tweak it and polish it and get notes on a second draft, do that, and….then wait...

The rumor was all over town, and it was serious enough that my agent felt the need to call me. "It's not true," he said. "What's not true?" I asked."The rumor.  About the valet parking fees..."

A friend of mine was working on a show once at a large studio that offered tours of its facilities to tourists. They'd gather in the morning, wilting in the Hollywood sunshine, and be led around by a young studio page who would guide them around the various studio landmarks...

A friend of mine pitched a show last week to a network, and they didn't buy it. This isn't a sad story, because another network did want it, so, you know, no tears, but for the six days between the first network saying no and the second network saying yes, he had time to sit and stew and second guess the show he was pitching...

There's an famous photograph of studio chief Jeffrey Katzenberg, back when he was running Disney, on the set of a movie, talking on a cell phone. Famous because, at the time, it was the symbol of a hard-charging, ubiquitous studio boss – always there, always on the phone, always on top of things...

I was talking to a writer the other day who has written a wonderful script. He's sort of an unknown, so he did the smart, entrepreneurial thing: he wrote it on spec. That is, he just carved out some time in his day, sat in one place and, over the course of several weeks, he eked out a funny, smart, fresh pilot script...

A friend of mine called up someone he's known for over twenty years. They had had a meeting a few weeks ago about a project my friend was working on, the guy he's known for such a long time is in the talent management business – although, when you get right down to it, everyone in the entertainment industry is in the talent management business – and the meeting went well, everyone was happy to see everyone else, everyone was excited about the project, everyone was going to follow up, so when my friend did, in fact, follow up a few days later with a phone call, he expected to get his call returned...

Working in the entertainment industry is a little like being a character in one of those magical realism novels – it's about as close to real life as you can get and still have room for unexpected plot twists and scary monsters...

In Hollywood, written -- that is to say, legally binding -- contracts are thought of as vulgar. In fact, just asking for a written contract is apt to bring out the latent mafiosi in Industry denizens. "I'm giving you my word," their pained expressions seem to say.  "What?  You don't trust me?"

I got a call recently from an agent I know – a guy who represents some wonderful writers – some of whom I've worked with, some of whom I've only wish I've worked with – and he told me that he was leaving the agency business and becoming a manager...

For the past year or so, I haven't had what you might call an assistant, on the logic that my life isn't really so complicated that I need assistance.  I can work my phone, I can use Google Maps, I can unwrap my own sandwich – I'm a functioning, reasonably organized adult who makes his uncertain way in the world unassisted...

I'm in New York right now, and I just had lunch with an old friend of mine who somehow, despite richly deserving it, has not yet been fired by the investment bank where he works in something called "structured finance"...

A few years ago, back during the Golden Age of television – and by Golden Age here I don't necessarily mean the age when television content was golden, when the shows were of a uniformly excellent quality – I honestly don't believe in that kind of designation – I think no matter when you turn it on, you can always find something on television worthwhile, interesting, and of high quality...

Everybody in Hollywood has their version of this story. You've got a show or a movie out there, and you're walking around town and maybe you run into an old friend or sit next to someone on an airplane and the conversation gets around to what you do for a living and quickly gets to the "have you ever done anything I might have heard of?" stage, and you mention your project and get this: Oh yeah. I've seen that...

There's an old rule in business that says you shouldn't have a meeting unless there's an outcome to the meeting. There's no point in getting a bunch of people together unless there's a point to it -- unless at the end of the meeting at least one person walks out of there with an actual, deliverable task to accomplish...

It's awfully hard, sometimes, in this business, to know exactly why someone is calling you. Which is odd, because there are really only two choices: they want to give you money, or they want to you to give them money...

Whenever someone feels the need to say "I am not a geek," you can count on on thing: That person is a geek. So: I am not a geek. But I do have geeky attributes...

You never really know when you're finished with something in this business. Well, that's not strictly true – I mean, when the network president calls you and uses his or her sad, regretful voice to tell you that your show is cancelled – well, then I guess you know you're finished...

Do me a favor: for the next four minutes, pretend you have a small computer mouse-shaped thing in your hand, and pretend there's a dial attached to the thing. Now, mentally, because I know a lot of you are driving, when you're enjoying what you're hearing, turn the dial up, that's clockwise. And when you're not, turn it down, counterclockwise...

When I was a kid, in the late 1970's – yeah, I said it. That's how old I am. I was a kid in the late 1970's. You want more detailed math, you're going to have to wait for my obituary. Anyway, when I was a kid in the late 1970's, one of the most popular shows on the air was Happy Days...

The test of any good writer is how well he complains. Some writers are great with dialogue, some are great with story, some can create electric, three-dimensional characters out of thin air – good writers are good at different stuff. But all writers, if they're any good, must be able to complain...

Childbirth, like producing a hit TV pilot, is painful, takes too long, requires muscle relaxants and ultimately involves more people than is strictly efficient. And also afterwards, the brain tends to forget all about the struggle. That's so you'll want to do it again...

A friend of mine tells this story about a pilot he did years ago.  It was a pretty simple premise – single dad raising a kid; kid's smart; dad's weirded out by getting into the dating world; you know, that show – and the network was pressuring him to cast a certain actor in the lead role, an actor who was really hot at that moment, who was a major star on Broadway...

The first time you drive onto a studio lot, the first time the gate lifts and you glide your car into the little fortress of money and cool and casual assurance, you feel like you've...won.

Boxee allows the user to recreate the Hulu experience on the television. And that is a sentence that would make no sense to anyone three or four years ago. Maybe even one year ago. And maybe it makes no sense to most people right now.

There’s an old story about former NBC chief Brandon Tartikoff. While he was running the network in the early 1980’s, he was on the phone in his office, talking to somebody about something, and he suddenly had a flash of inspiration – totally unrelated to the conversation he was having...

Not too long ago, I had a meeting with a couple of writers who had written an excellent pilot. They were experienced, smart guys – they'd been on lots of shows before, never quite at the top of the pyramid, but close enough – but for some reason, the network that bought the pilot wanted to add one more element, what's called in the business a "show-runner"...

A few years ago, I had dinner with an actor and his manager. I was trying to woo this actor to take the lead role in a pilot I was producing.  He liked the part, liked the script, but was a little hesitant about signing what was, essentially, a six-year commitment. In success, that is. The truth is that television pilots have about a ninety-eight percent failure rate, and of the successful pilots that go on to series, those have about a ninety-five percent failure rate...

I have a friend who's an executive at a large television network. No, seriously...  

Circus monkeys, deep down, are mean. Someone once told me that a decent circus monkey is only good for about seven or eight years until he decides to retire, which can come at any time -– hanging around the other monkeys, in the middle of a show -– no one ever knows when, exactly, a monkey suddenly says to himself, "Okay, had enough" but when he does, here's what happens...

Right now, we're deep into something called "Awards Season" here in Hollywood, and if you're not careful, you just might start to think these kinds of things matter. They do in a kind of generalized morale-boosting way, but the truth is, the people who pay for the full-page ads and the mountains of screeners and the Oscar night parties are really just engaging in an elaborate kind of marketing...

We’ve got a new president. Of the United States, not the studio or network – although we’ll have a new one or two of those before long, I’m sure – and I thought I’d share some show business wisdom with him...

First, a little background: Once, a long time ago, a joke in a script fell flat. This happens every now and then, of course, Well, more than every now and then. But the key is, fixing it. When you're in production, and you've got a few rewrites ahead of you, and a joke falls flat at a runthrough, you try to come up with something better. You try to fix it...

One of the many, many reasons for never telling anyone on a plane or a train or wherever you happen to be sitting next to a stranger, "I work in the entertainment industry," is because they'll inevitable say something like, "You know what you should do a show about?"  And then they'll tell you...

I spent most of December on a container ship, heading from Seattle to Shanghai, across the roof of the Pacific. Bad weather to the south forced us to hug the Alaskan coast, slip through the Unimak Pass, cross over into Russian waters, then drift south, battling 10 meter swells, into the Sea of Japan...

For some reason, I get an e-mail every now and then from an outfit called "TV Tracker." It's a pretty good service, I think –- I say I think because you have to pay to get access to the real stuff, what they call "the television industry's premier on-line, on time source for what's happening in TV" and if there's one thing I hate doing, it's paying for things...

There's an old reporter's saying that they use when a story or rumor perfectly illustrates the point the reporter is trying to make. "Too good to check..."

Here's where I am right now. Well, I'm in the KCRW studios right now right now, but where I'll be when this is broadcast is somewhere in the Pacific, aboard the Hanjin Boston, a huge container ship making a slow, grinding passage from Seattle to Shanghai, carrying, I'm told, the only thing we have that the Chinese want to import – animal skins and scrap metal...

One of the things that's happened recently, since the sharp drop in the number of scripted television shows on the air, is the corresponding shop rise in the number of television show runners who are hanging around unemployed, reading the complete newspaper and sitting in coffee shops with notebooks filled with pages that say "Pilot Idea: Person, workplace question mark question mark. Marriage conflict difficult. Family. City question mark question mark."

A brilliant actor once told me that the hardest thing to play is drunk. And then he told me how to do it...

Southern California is burning again, just like last year. But unlike last year, when the heart of the blaze was tony, expensive Malibu, this year, maybe in honor of the universally diminished financial picture, the blazes are mostly in Sylmar...

There are two kinds of people in the world. The kind that can name, or at least picture, the two Darrens on Bewitched, and everybody else...

Something strange is happening in Hollywood: people are getting fired. Well, let me clarify: people get the sack all the time around here. Executives are tossed out with such routine indifference that any executive who hasn't been fired at least three times in his career is probably not very good at his job...

Once, I was working on a show when the director walked into the writers' room. Most of the time, the director spends the entire day on the stage, working with the actors. At some point, he calls the writers to the stage to watch a run-through of the script, and after that the writers go back to the room and complain about the run-through, make filthy jokes, complain about other shows on TV, attack and undermine each other personally, order dinner, then settle in to do the re-write...

I once worked with a very talented actor who mostly worked in features. We didn't really know who he was when we were casting that particular role, but his agent and manager sent us his reel –- a tape with a sample of some of his best work 0– and it was obvious from the first clip that he was a gifted, smart, winning, and very funny guy...

Not long ago, a newly-minted movie studio chairman flew to Tokyo for his first meeting with the owners of his company.  It was one of those corporate kabuki performances, a highly orchestrated and utterly meaningless display of PowerPoint pageantry that unwieldy behemoths prefer to, well, actually talking and deciding things...

In olden times, when half-hour comedies were on TV a lot, we wrote them mostly as a group, in something we called "The Room," which usually meant a large conference room with a table and chairs and a big sofa and a white-board and a lot of empty take-out containers...

I wrote a piece for the Los Angeles Times a year or so ago, about my experiences with the mini-bar at the Wynn Resort in Las Vegas...

Look, let's not get into politics, okay? Too incendiary, and, frankly, my politics, as I've discovered from years of working in Hollywood, aren't really in line with most of my colleagues. I've heard stories from people who are more on my side of the fence, politically, of being denied jobs or shouted at on sets, but my experience has been generally fine – at best, I've been ignored; at worst, the object of a hilariously condescending curiosity, like, "Um, you're a Republican? But, how can that be? I know you. And you're not, like, a terrible person..."

This is a strange time in the television business. All of the writers who are working on shows are working -- they're busy writing and producing and editing and getting ready for the rolling premieres which start around now...

I heard a story recently that may or may not be true, but since it perfectly conforms to my prejudices and biases, I'm going to just go ahead and tell it, act as if it's true, and not bother to pin down its accuracy. Okay? Here goes...

Last week, for a whole bunch of peculiar reasons too complicated to get into on public radio, I was in Azerbaijan...  

A few years ago, during a long, hot-tempered pilot production week, I was hanging out backstage, waiting the for fresh cookies to appear on the craft services table, when I overheard one of the set decorators ask one of the lighting guys if a certain set decoration looked right...

A few years ago, I lived at the beach in Santa Monica. It was a two-story rectangular beach house, and in the afternoons I would sit on my balcony, smoke a cigar, sip a bourbon, and watch the sun set over the Pacific...

When I was in film school, we used to have to present a few pages every week of our script in progress, to be, I guess the phrase is "workshopped" by the rest of the class...

Once, not too long ago, I was flying back to LA from London. The young woman in front of my, checking in, was doing her very best to finagle a free upgrade to first class...

Last week I told the story of a writing team I know, and what happened at their last pitch meeting together...

Once, a writing team I know pitched a show to a network. Pitches are tricky things – sell too hard, too slick, with too much prepared "Hey! How are ya?" kind of patter, and you turn everyone off. You turn something that's supposed to be a sales call disguised as a casual meeting into a sales call disguised as a…well, disguised as nothing. As a sales call...

You can make a good movie from a bad script. You can make a good television show from a bad script, too, though it's slightly trickier. And of course, the reverse is true, too: a lot of wonderful scripts have turned pretty awful when they got to the screen...

There's an old cliché about people in this business shouting at each other, "You'll never do business in this town again," or something along those lines –- as if a person (any person) was powerful enough to read someone out of the entertainment industry...

The best way to give somebody bad news is, first, give them a doughnut. This is basically the idea behind what we in Hollywood call "Craft Services..."

There was a time, not too long ago, when the best way to cast a television show was to make a list of the biggest stars you could think of who were currently having money troubles. And then you'd work your way down the list until money troubles plotted on the X-axis and size of part plotted on the Y-axis met, and, suddenly, you'd have a cast...

The trick to being successful in the entertainment business – maybe it's the trick in every business, I don't know – is to get people to do stuff for you without realizing that they're doing it. Get people to write your script, be in your movie, produce your pilot, for as little cash outlay as possible...

We were shooting a pilot a few years ago, and one of the actresses was, for some reason, wearing a strange-looking headscarf. At some point, I guess, one of us had approved it, but on shoot night, it looked a little odd. It wasn't until we had three scenes shot that someone from the network mentioned it...

Sometimes in movies or TV shows, there's a moment where a character reveals something about himself, something embarrassing or humiliating, but something he hopes other characters share. And after an awkwardly humorous pause, it turns out they do, and the characters are drawn closer together thanks to the one character's willingness to be honest and vulnerable...

Among the many, many smart things F. Scott Fitzgerald said, surely the least smart is, "There are no second acts in American lives..."

Every writer – well, every comedy writer – has made this mistake. You're at work, and you're laughing with your colleagues, about something – usually what we call a "room run" – a joke that originates entirely in the writers' room, one that's usually so objectionable, so foul, so indefensibly cruel and wrong and ugly, that the entire room is paralyzed by laughter...

Once, a famous writer gave a talk to a lot of aspiring writers.  This kind of thing happens all the time – and not just at colleges and universities, but at weekend scriptwriting workshop seminars and writers' conferences, that sort of thing.  I've done a few myself...

I know someone who works in advertising, and on his first week on the job, years ago, a more seasoned copywriter took him aside to give him advice. They were both on their way to the creative director's office, to pitch him some ideas for a new campaign...

The people who run KCRW only give me four minutes to make these little jewel boxes of commentary –- something about wanting to broadcast the news or I don't know what –- so it's hard to fit everything in sometimes.  Most of the time it's easy, of course, because everything I say pretty much boils down to: writin's hard...

A few years ago, a friend of mine tried to fire his agent. It didn't go well. After a long, wearying phone call, in which the agent tried everything in his bag of tricks – you owe me! This is wrong!  I screwed up, I know! Gimme one more chance! This is a bad career move! -- all of them, my friend finally agreed to the thing he had been dreading – the thing that every single one of his writer friends told him, under no circumstances, to agree to...

I have an actor friend who, early in his career, attended a very popular, respected acting class. On the first day, the teacher arrived, told the class to stand up and said, "Now, each of you wrap your arms around yourself and give yourself a big, hurting hug. And repeat, wonderful, wonderful me!"

Sometimes, certain things seem strange or stupid just because we haven't seen them enough. You know what I mean? They'll come out with a new car design, and it'll look strange and stupid and then you see them all over the place and soon they look normal. And a little while later you're thinking, "Hey, I like the look of that car..."

Years ago, when I was based on the Paramount Studios lot, we used to order take out  lunch maybe twice a week from the old City Restaurant on La Brea.  It's not there anymore, but I can still remember every item on the lunch menu...

A few years ago, I was working on a show and we had, as a guest actor, an older guy. This guy was a comedy legend, of sorts -- he had been a writer and performer since the 1950’s, had spent some time on Broadway, in movies, on television in the early days. He even did some famous commercials. And he was funny...

You know that moment, in slasher movies, when the promiscuous teens who have been racing around the old barn, trying desperately to avoid the psycho killer, finally get him, somehow...?

Here's how I knew that the writers strike was over, really over. It wasn't the voting, or Nikki Finke's site, or anything like that. It was the email. From the studio...

People, I think you'll agree, can be awfully mean...

If you have a kid, or know a kid, somewhere between the ages of 12 and 17, you know that when they don’t know the answer to a question, they don’t say "I don’t know." They say, "Iunno..."

True story: A writer in his late 50's, who hadn't worked in a long, long time, but who at one point was well-paid and in-demand, found himself facing what we'll call Typical Hollywood Career Ending Number 3: private school and college tuitions paid, barely; 401k plan ransacked; home equity tapped; savings dwindling; cars, one; supermarket, Ralph's; area code 661...

I was once stuck in a writers room with a really lazy writer.  And no, that's no redundant.  And no, it wasn't me.  I mean, yes, I am a lazy writer, but no, I'm not that lazy writer...

I was talking to a writer yesterday about the need for writers like us to be more risk-taking, more entrepreneurial. He was pretty enthusiastic: "You're totally right! We should just all say 'to hell with the studios' and go to Google or Yahoo or wherever and do stuff for them!"

I went to a party the other day and I didn't talk about the writers' strike...

I'm going to get in trouble for this. But, anyway. Let's be honest. If you're a writer, or a writer/producer, or any of the constellation of hyphenates that means that along with what you do that really brings in the dough, you also are a member of the Writers Guild, you've been on a movie or TV set before...

I have a friend who, years ago, was an assistant to a big agent at a big talent agency. Assistants like that do something called "rolling calls," that is, they run through their bosses call sheet – the people she needs to call back, the people she wants to call her back, and the most crucial set, the people she needs to call right now...

I know two guys who make three-bean salad. A few years ago, they pooled their money, bought a small machine that fills jars, and they went into the three-bean salad business...

I was joking around with a friend of mine -– a fellow writer on strike -- a few days ago. He hurt his leg a week or so ago, so I sent him a text message. "Hey, haven't seen you on the picket line. Hope your leg is okay, and it didn't SCAB over." And I put "scab" in all caps. I was kidding, of course...

The letter from the studio came yesterday. It said this: Reference is made to the Agreement -– and then, in parentheses, they put the word "Agreement" in quotation mark, for some reason –- between you on the one hand and us on the other hand, in which you agreed to render specified services and for which you are being paid. Blah blah blah. Boilerplate, boilerplate, boilerplate..."

A few years ago, I heard this story from a friend of mine.  He's got a kid in elementary school –- he and the family live back east -– and one day, in his oldest kid's second-grade classroom, suddenly, without warning, all of the kids started to throw up...

The only time you really, truly know that you've made a sale in Hollywood – that the studio bought the script, that the network bought the pitch – is when they call your agent to get your social security or tax ID number...

I want to tell you a story. I started working in the entertainment industry in 1990. I was twenty-four...

Years ago, when I told my agent that I had written a book, she said to me, "Hey, if you want $800, I'll give you $800."

The great thing about the entertainment industry – well, one of the great things.  It's a fantastic industry in almost every way – is at some point, no matter who you are or how much power you have, eventually you're going to have to sit in someone's office – probably someone you despise – and pitch...

I had lunch not too long ago with a friend of mine. We sat down, the waiter came to get our drink orders – I ordered a Diet Coke, and he, he ordered a white wine...

Here's what I believe: I believe that if you're a writer in Hollywood and you want to have any degree of control over your career, you can't wait around for someone to hand you a writing assignment. You can't wait around to get a studio deal. You're a writer: write yourself into the business. Write yourself into a new genre, a new form, a new career. Sit down at the computer and write. No excuses. No dithering. Just sit down, focus, and do it. That's really the only way to succeed...

The chairman of a large movie studio once said that the movie and television business was a crapshoot. You make a bet, you play the (razor thin) odds and then you roll the dice...

When you're writing a script, sometimes you resort to a plot device that's totally implausible but necessary to the story –- a coincidental meeting of your two main characters, for instance, or, maybe, the only way you can free your hero from certain death is with a freak, unexpected earthquake that jolts the steamroller that's about to hit him -– c'mon, we've all done it. We've all resorted to these kinds of tricks, told ourselves, "hey, look, it's a buy, okay?" or "it's way deep in the third act, at this point, the audience wants an earthquake to happen," or, "it's happens on page six! It's a romantic comedy! The audience expects a certain amount of fanciful whimsy…"

I finished a book recently called Hollywood Economics by a brilliant mathematician named Arthur Devany. I say "finished" the book instead of "read" the book because it's filled with a lot of complicated graphs and tables, and words like "Gaussian curve" and "fractal" which resulted in me turning a lot of pages in eye-watering stupefaction. But I got the gist...

The professional code among comedy writers dictates that if you have a friend who is producing a pilot, you are honor-bound to volunteer your services for the pilot week...

So a few mornings ago, I'm walking my dog along Ocean Front Walk in Venice. It's an early weekday morning, and I'll be honest: I'm not looking my best. You know, it's in the morning. I'm walking the dog. I'm not, you know, pitching. So I have on a pair of shorts that may be tattered, and a t-shirt that may have been used, recently, to mop up some kind of spill. But I repeat – I'm just walking the dog...

I'm sort of a neat person. I try to stay organized. Not out of any creepy OCD kind of thing – I mean, I know a guy who, when he buys a new package of athletic socks, labels and numbers them with a sharpie – you know, 1L, 1R, for pair number one, left foot, pair number one, right foot. Just in case...

A guy I know tells this story: He and a student friend are in Paris. They're going to take the Metro somewhere, and as they're going through the turn-style, they hear the train arriving and its doors opening. The guy starts to run when his friend grabs him by the arm and stops him and says, "I don't run for trains..."

A few years ago, I went to cooking school, briefly, and I learned a lot. But one of the most interesting things I learned was about food safety...

I went to an event a few weeks ago for the launch of a new web media company.  I go to those kinds of things about once every, well these days, about once a day.  There are zillions of these new web enterprises around, all with the kinds of fanciful, made-up names that create the image of young, fun-loving kids in interesting t-shirts watching web videos as they sit in some cool bar waiting for their ultimate Frisbee friends to show up or text them or meet them where their favorite band is playing...

The first thing an amateur writer does, when he sits down to create a television series, is to figure it all out.  He'll map out characters, interrelationships, future story arcs, possible late season developments -– you know, actually create a series...

A few years ago, a friend of mine shot a pilot. It was supposed to be a promising pilot, but somewhere between the script and casting, the network started getting concerned about the darkly comic tone, the suggestive, edgy storylines, and the sharpness of the writing. All of those items introduce a level of risk into the development process -- career risk for the executives, specifically -- so usually that's the first stuff they want out...

I have an actress friend from India -- she's a Bollywood starlet -- and she tells me that over there, if you're a Bollywood star and you're married, and you want to stay a Bollywood star, you have to keep your marriage a secret...

So, apparently, if you want to get out of jury duty, what you have to do is this.  When they ask you what you do for a living, you say, "I write television comedy, your honor," and then you wait around a bit while the judge and the lawyers busy themselves with other prospective jurors, but you're eventually going to hear something like, "The court would like to excuse the television comedy writer with the expensive watch"...

When you pitch a pilot to the network, or to anyone, really, you often find yourself saying stupid things like, "And the great thing is, there are, like, zillions of story ideas with this situation," when in fact there aren't zillions of story areas, or even millions of story areas, or even, really, more than, say, eight story ideas to anything...

A writer friend of mine told me this story a few weeks ago. He’s walking back to his office from the studio commissary when he runs into an old friend of his, also a writer.  He and this guy worked together on a show a few years ago, and they’re friends.  Well, not friends as in “friendly” or “nice to each other"...

My wonderful dog died a year ago, and I spent the past year staring at other people’s dogs in a way, frankly, that I sometimes stare at other people’s girlfriends.  “Why are you with him?” “What’s that relationship all about?”  That kind of thing.

It's the end of pilot season.  In less than two weeks, the networks announce their picks for the fall 2007 schedule.  The process which began in January with hope and optimism and a sense that the TV business really wasn't in decline, really could pull itself back up, ends in New York, at some huge venue, with the president of each network appearing before a crowd of media buyers at the big ad agencies selling the upcoming fall season.  They call this the "upfronts," because this is when networks try to sell a lot of their ad time upfront, before the shows premiere, before the 80 to 90 percent new show failure rate kicks in...

A friend of mine was working on a pilot last year for a big star who had a big deal at one of the big TV networks.  It was a great idea for a show, and he's a great writer, and the actor liked him, so on the face of it, it seemed like a sure thing....

When I tell people what I do for a living -- which, for the record, I try not to do; mostly I tell people that I'm a merchant banker and leave it at that; when you say "merchant banker," I've found, there are no follow ups -- but for the times when I actually tell people that I write and produce television comedies, what I hear back is either "You should do a sitcom about everybody in the payroll department. Crazy.  Crazy funny," or something a little more aggressive and challenging, like "So what do you do now?  Sit around and live off of your Cheers residuals?"...

A few years ago, we had a pilot ordered to series.   I know, I know: hard to believe.  But there was a time, I promise, when thing like that did happen...

It turns out that Viacom is suing YouTube, which isn't really much of a surprise. Viacom will eventually sue us all, for something. That's kind of how they do business. Here's how it went down...

When Bob Crane, the star of TV's Hogan's Heroes, was found murdered in an Arizona motel in the late 1970's, among his personal effects were several hundred pounds of video equipment.  Crane had state-of-the-art equipment for 1974: a huge video camera, a heavy playback tape machine (roughly the size of four microwave ovens stacked together), and enough lights to form a small production company.

So, how do I do this?  On the one hand, I want to share something about a certain network.  This certain network ordered a pilot recently based on the caveman character in the Geico insurance ads.  Have you seen them?  Kind of funny.  The idea is that if you're a caveman somehow living in today's world -- I don't mean like a caveman, I mean an actual caveman, with eyebrow ridges and stringy  hair and like that -- anyway, the point of the commercial is that if you were such a caveman, making your way in the modern world, you'd have to deal with a lot of prejudice.  People thinking you're stupid or oafish or dazzled by fire or whatever...