Big Sur

9 Dec


Last weekend I went to Big Sur for the writing conference to top all writing conferences.

Big Sur is stunningly beautiful, as expected, and the experience was stunningly beautiful, as expected, and let’s see if I can use stunningly beautiful one more time, shall we?

Katie and Hilary are stunningly beautiful.

Nailed it.

As expected.

For the conference, we stayed in cabins in the woods and Hilary built a fire to provide heat.  I offered my moral support/supervision.

I don’t mean to go into too much detail here, but it took eight matches and returning the Duraflame packaging to the brick in order to get the flame going, so basically I would die in three seconds if asked to survive on my own in any way.

Also, it turns out supervision is really as unneeded as everyone says it is.

Moving right along.

The trip was full of so many wonderful things–a manic Hilary, who tried to insert her debit card in a cash-only slot, my tweezers, which were called upon to rescue said debit card, two days without service/wifi of any kind, and also, and most importantly of all, a new reality TV show series.

The Untitled Big Sur Project.



No to all?

The Untitled Big Sur Project, which I am now just shortening to Big Sur, is my new pet imaginary TV project based around “The Pub,” an Irish bar in the middle of the Big Surian woods. The Pub is everything you want out of an Irish bar–mahogany, live music, blue cheese burgers that change you life.

As we stood in the middle of its glory, Katie said, “This is the sexiest pub I’ve ever been to outside of Europe” and I said, “This is the sexiest pub I’ve ever been to including Europe.”

And we mean sexy, of course, in the most nonsexual of ways.

The Pub was not only physically beautiful, but contained some of the best characters I’ve ever seen.  I kept looking around for Josh Schwartz because I thought maybe he was filming some new CW show with super-hot people and I was just observing a set, because no one really looks like that, right?

There was the beautiful couple that had stepped from the pages of a mountain catalog.  The girl with her glossy blonde hair and red lips, the boy with his puffy vest and Range Rover.

(I am assuming the Range Rover here.)

There was the corner with the old women raucously playing dice. There was the live music and the dancing and the man in the hat with the braids, and, oh, a dog off his leash that just wandered on in like NO BIG DEAL.

Big Sur has that magical feeling of a town untouched.  A town with Christmas light-adorned stores and gas prices that make you a little bit sick.   A town where you go, where does everyone actually live?

A town perfect for reality shows.

Catalog couple, I’m sure you follow my blog.  Contact me.  I will make things happen in the TV world with my as-yet-unknown industry contacts.

But really, though, oh beautiful ones– I’m a safe bet.

After all, I go to writing conferences.

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