text: Web Series: A DIY Journey
  
  I guess we can borrow some cameras, stand in front of them, and say the words typed in the script. Is that how this "filmmaking thing" works?
  
  "Walk me through this slowly. People can talk to each other while they play video games?"
  
  "Yeah. You just install separate voice chat software while you play."
  
  I was sitting in a fancy office, looking out onto a beautiful view of the Hollywood sign. A producer sat across from me. She was a friend of a friend of someone's yoga teacher and was literally the only person I could get to meet with me about making The Guild as a TV show. I was pretty sure her blonde highlights cost more than my monthly car payment.
  
  "And the characters are all playing the same game? At once?"
  
  "It's based on World of Warcraft, a very popular online game."
  
  She smiled and nodded. Like when you're pretending to understand something by smiling and nodding but have no clue about what the other person just said. I do that a lot about sports.
  
  "Uh, so what did you think about my script? Did you like it?"
  
  She looked down and started flipping through the pages. I noticed her nails were painted silver. I thought about making a Wolverine joke, but I didn't think she'd get it.
  
  "There's so much vocabulary here I don't understand. Like, what does 'gank' mean?"
  
  Definitely a "no" on the Wolverine joke.
  
  "It's a gaming term that means 'kill.'"
  
  "Can't you just say 'kill'?"
  
  "Well, that's not authentic. I don't want gamers to think I'm a poser."
  
  "Oh, I don't think that matters."
  
  She laughed. I noticed her teeth were perfectly white and, through no fault of her own, she was making me feel like a peasant.
  
  "Okay. But if I tweak that stuff, do you think my script could become a TV show?"
  
  "Well, some of the writing shows me you're very funny..."
  
  "Thank y—"
  
  "But this is just too inside to appeal to anyone. Why don't you try to write a spec script for The Office? Try to get staffed on a show?"
  
  I shifted uncomfortably. "I was hoping to do my own show. THIS show. And writers on staff don't get free dresses for awards shows. Because you know, The Guild would totally win awards if you made it!"
  
  I laughed. She did not join in. She just stood up and proved to be at least a foot taller than me and had no need for Spanx under her pencil skirt. I decided I hated her.
  
  "Well, try taking all the gaming stuff out, and let's circle back later!"
  
  "Sure!" I realized with a sinking heart that this was it. My last chance. The project I put my soul into was never going to be made. The script would just become a check mark next to "Life To-Dos" and nothing more. As I left that room, I knew I would be leaving my dreams behind with it.
  
  I stood and started to exit, then decided to turn back. One last time. Emboldened.
  
  "Hey, can I get the name of your eyebrow person?"
  
  In early 2007, after I finished rewriting my original script two dozen times, to the point where I thought, Wow, this is absolute literary perfection! I did the most stereotypical thing you can do with your first screenplay: I showed it to any fancy-pants person I knew, convinced they would read it and turn it into the next Friends. I was so confident that I started visualizing the ad campaign that would run on the sides of buses during premiere week. Me, posing with that wry, "Wow my friends are crazy, but I love 'em!" side look to the audience? You know the one.
  
  But back then gaming was not a mainstream hobby. (Is it now? I can't tell, my head is buried so far up the anus of the culture.) And ONLINE gaming was something that especially made civilians think, Nerd Poison!
  
  I couldn't believe people in show business were so uncool. The idea that it might be the reverse never crossed my mind.
  
  Until I got rejected. A lot. Then it started to sink in.
  
  A few weeks after my soul was shattered into a million zillion pieces (not to be overdramatic), I went to my women's support group Chick-In, and I whine-cried a lot. Afterwards, two of the members asked if they could read my script: Kim, who got me into the whole writing thing, and Jane, director and Chick-leader. I didn't see any harm in showing it to them. After all, no one else in the universe was going to see my brilliant world come to life. Ever. Sadface. With that attitude, the meeting was sure to be productive!
  
  The three of us stayed late after the next Chick-In to discuss.
  
  "What did you think?" I asked. Part of me didn't want to hear what they thought. I wanted to grab the scripts out of their hands and run to my car without saying good-bye.
  
  Which wouldn't have been weird at all.
  
  "It's amazing! I laughed out loud. These characters are a hoot!" Jane had the sweetest way of talking, and I calmed down. Compliments are like Valium to me.
  
  Kim chimed in and agreed. "All that time you spent gaming was worth it! The characters are so real. I don't understand everything they're talking about, but..."
  
  Ugh. "Of course not! No one does. All the producers I've shown the script to say it's incomprehensible." I allowed myself to be severely depressed again. That was quick.
  
  Kim threw out the next sentence delicately, like she was fishing for a skittish trout. "I have a crazy idea. Have you thought of doing this project for the internet?"
  
  I stared at her. "Huh?"