I just watched a documentary about comedian Bruce Vilanch.  He basically writes award shows for a living.  He writes jokes for presenters at the Oscars, and he also works with other comedians on their material.  He’s worked with Whoopi Goldberg, Billy Crystal, Robin Williams, and Bette Midler.  He has received awards for his award shows.  That seems like something I would like to happen to me so that I can brag about it.  How many people can say that they got an Emmy for their Oscars.  Of course if I get one of them, I’ll want to get all four so I can have the coveted EGOT necklace like Tracy Jordan.

But I digress.  What I really want is for people to pay attention to me.  Awards are a great way for people to inflate my ego to a dangerous level.  But what kind of stress is that to sit in the audience and wait to hear your name called for best actor, or best artist, or best writing.  That’s gotta be way more painful than sitting in the auditorium of your elementary school and waiting for someone in your grade to be called for a citizenship award.  When I received that award, I didn’t even see it coming.  I’d been at that school for years and had been to countless assemblies where other names were called.  I always thought I was a pretty good kid, but after a while I stopped paying attention.  They aren’t going to pick me.  I’m just another kid being a kid like all the rest of the kids.  Of course my mom knew.  But since my detective skills were (and still are) lacking, it took me several years to deduce that she had known beforehand and that’s why she was at the assembly waiting to congratulate me.

I want something that I have made to be recognized.  I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t something I hoped would happen in the future, because we all hope for validation.  The point though is not to have that as your prime motivation for being creative.  The motivation for me is to create because it has not been created.  Things are bouncing around inside my brain constantly, and the more of it I get out, the more room is created for more stuff to bounce around.  And when it’s been transferred from brain to paper, I want someone to read it and enjoy it.  And if that one person turns into fifty people and then 50 times that, I am not opposed to it.  That would be great.

Since part of the documentary was about Bruce Vilanch writing for the Oscars, I’ll say that I want the award to be “Best Original Screenplay”.  I’ll step up to the podium and probably make a fool of myself by getting all nervous and junk.  I’ll thank everyone that has encouraged me as a writer, as well as the folks that went out and saw the movie and liked it.  Gotta thank my mom, of course.  Who doesn’t do that?  Basically this will be the most boring acceptance speech in the history of the Academy of Arts and Sciences.  It will be so boring they will have to edit it down to me saying thank you and George Clooney clapping.  I’ll bow, split my pants, and run off the stage embarrassed.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “I’d Like to Thank My Cats.”


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