And The Oscar Goes To…

Having been raised by Hollywood, I feel a certain sense of protectiveness about the pomp and pageantry of the Oscars. Earned academic regalia notwithstanding, no matter how many critics disembowel the industry (having been one such myself on more than several occasions), I owe Tinsel Town a great debt and would have hosted yet another Oscar gathering last night had doing so not been preempted by graduation at church. One must maintain some semblance of priorities – if even a fig leaf of same. Take it from me, someone best described as Matrix meets Moonstruck meets The Sound of Music, the stories we tell ourselves, about ourselves and one another matter.

All kidding aside, the summary of the introduction to John Ridley’s acceptance speech, text to me this evening (in fewer characters than a tweet), will be a milestone in my personal writer’s resumé for all time to come. It simultaneously and single-handedly defined and liberated any and all committed to being true to the ideas entrusted to our care. For that, Caveat Scriptor, I’d like to thank the Academy…


Technical difficulties prohibit my linking to the clip. Suffice to say, “the soul crushing inadequacy” felt by many writers is neither a figment of anyone’s imagination nor a usefully self-limiting, control mechanism  It has killed as many projects as it has writers. There is no single nor quick fix for this sad state of affairs. It is my deepest hope that teachers write and encourage as many others to do so as possible.


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