INT. APARTMENT - NIGHT
Today, I stood in screenwriting Shangri La.
At the corner of Fairfax and West 3rd Street stood a legendary structure, unassuming in appearance, but oh the treasures it contained. I waved to an elderly security guard and turned down a slender hallway. Every step quicker than the next as I approached—
The Writers Guild Foundation Shavelson-Webb Library
Floor to ceiling shelves loaded with television and movie scripts. Additional compartments housed biographies, how-tos, and how-not-tos along with other hidden gems such as: Steven Spielberg; The Man, His Movies, and Their Meaning by Philip M. Taylor. Over 17,000 scripts… Each treated like the Holy Grail, but instead of ‘not passing the great seal,’ they couldn't pass the glass doors of Billy Wilder’s Reading Room.
Small alcoves with modern, yet comfortable crimson chairs served as sanctuaries for reading and writing. Or people watching. I’m told the farmer’s market across the street has inspired many quirky characters.
I stood there surrounded by ‘thoughts and success’ and felt inspired to write… But alas, this was only a recon mission. I’d left my laptop and notebooks at the apartment in case Shangri La turned out to be the Houston Projects.
I’ll return soon, armed and ready to commence my assault on the screenwriting world.