There are many things Hollywood is known for: lavish parties, subtle (or not so subtle) plastic surgery, the concept of juice as a meal. What it is not traditionally known for is honesty. I live in Los Angeles, work in the entertainment industry when I’m not moonlighting as a semi-reputable journalist and have done my fair share of lying … or, more accurately, omitting the truth. One of the least pleasant experiences in town is being asked to give honest feedback to someone who is at best an acquaintance. It’s worse yet if that person is a friend, lover or family member who actually takes your opinion seriously. Overall, the notion of offering honesty to a peer is akin to rubbing poison oak on your privates.
And yet, despite knowing how gruesome this can be, I still solicit feedback on scripts, films and even nascent ideas I’m toying with. Naturally, I feel guilty doing it. I blubber about how gracious the person is for taking the time to engage with my creative output, how generous they are and how crucial this step is to any sort of actual success in the industry. I’m even lying when I say that to someone. I should tell them: “I’m sorry I just asked you to do the equivalent of punching several of your own teeth out for free. Please don’t destroy my self-esteem completely. Let my mother finish the job.”
