The Great Outdoors

Life is good.

I’m three days into my office retirement, and all signs point to it ranking right up there with trying hummus and dating Ali on the ‘Best Decisions I’ve Ever Made’ list.

I write this post from Brechin, Ontario, which is Orillia-ish (I’m no Magellan). I’m at Ali’s cottage, sitting about 15 feet from the shores of Simcoe under arborous shade, semi-reclined on a semi-recliner. Shades down, shirt open, my furry tummy exposed to the elements…and I couldn’t be happier. This is what I was dreaming of when I declined my contract extension.

Ali’s father recently equipped this cottage with the holiest of holies - the internet - and one wireless hub later, I’m sitting dockside watching monkeys shit in football helmets on YouTube. God bless this World Wide Web.

Since acquiring my laptop a year ago, the Internet (capital I) has become my school, my gossipy gay friend, and my mistress all at once. Not to mention that having web access allows me to do freelance copy work from up here, and keeps me in communicato with the various projects I’ve got going on. Which I guess is important too…I can get to that stuff in between clicking ‘refresh’ on Bill Simmons web chats.

This is as close to heaven as I’ll ever be allowed to get. Other than meetings and social events, I’ve got no reason to be in the city this summer. I’ll be bouncing between Brechin and Wasaga Beach, where my parents and brothers will be ‘summering’ (I feel like a goddamn Kennedy).

Why do I need the city this summer? From the 705, I can write, contact agencies about work, send scripts/outlines/pitches wherever they need be, and generally enjoy life without an alarm clock.

That being said, 2006 is not going to be the summer of relaxation, where Josh pretends he’s much more financially endowed than his bank account indicates. It’s going to be a busy one. I’ve got no intention of sitting back - I made this transition to free up writing time, and I aim to make the most of it.

I’m in pre-production on a short series called Team Leader. It’s a serial comedy, each episode 5 minutes, to be viewed online, via podcast, or through vendors like Atom Films. Both the producer and the co-writer are well versed in the burgeoning mobile distribution field (they currently have a show boasting 20,000 downloads. Check it out HERE).

We’re all pretty pumped about Team Leader. The Team Leader Team is going at it on our own, which of course means scraping some sheckels together and begging for favors. But, there are perks. Having total creative control is like having Jared Leto’s black book. Let’s just hope we get better actors.

I’m excited to shoot something again. When I was making shorts, I loved the casting process, gathering the props, and scouting locations (yes, I’ve got a few responsibilities outside the realm of ‘writer’). By the way, if anyone knows of a cubicled office we can shoot in over an August weekend (skeleton crew), please contact me. Doing me this solid would guarantee your entrance to heaven (I've talked to the boss - he says it's cool), no matter how many family members you secretly hate or the number of intoxicated indiscretions notched on your bedpost (or rap sheet).

There is a potential distributor we’re chatting with - and there are even murmurs of some cash to help the production go along (which I’m not sure means bye-bye to creative control!). If this materializes, I’ll report, but regardless, I’m certain you’ll be hearing all of the successes and pitfalls of Team Leader over the next few months.

While I’m up here this week, I hope to finish the second draft of Chub. There are some production companies that have expressed interest in it from my agent’s trip out West. Talk about motivation - the minute I hear someone wants to read a project, I get into full re-write mode (followed by the requisite ‘I’ve ruined it! I’m finished’ hissy-fit. What a headcase…I know).

But up north, the air is fresh, the sun is out, and three little ducks are floating aimlessly across the lake. Just like them, my life up here is generally stress free. What is there to complain about? "Get these motherfucking spiders off this motherfucking deckchair!" will likely be the extent of my aggravation.

Yes, I hate bugs. Never has a more appropriate name been given. Despite entomophobia joining the growing list of my illogical hang-ups, I couldn’t be more excited about my future, both professionally, and personally. Big dreams from a small cottage...