Me and Robbie McKee

I grab a coffee from the buffet, and take a seat at the end of the board room table. I've been lucky enough to score a small table discussion with Robert McKee ~ story consultant to Hollywood's elite.

It's a Q & A session, but as cliche as it makes me; I'm looking forward to it. I'm Nicholas Cage playing Charlie Kaufman in Adaptation. Sitting in front of Robert McKee is a right of passage for anyone who wants to be taken seriously as a story teller.

Most of the people in the room hover towards the side of the table where he'll be sitting, so they can sit a bit closer to him; but I take my seat on the other side of the table. Like an estranged Aristocratic wife in the Renaissance; I'll sit far away and let my husband entertain the masses while I sit and absorb what I can.

My mind wanders as I sip my coffee and wait for the session to start. I wonder if there will be any insight from this? I look around the room -- the people all have a look of desperation in their eyes.

Someone please acknowledge me...Someone pleeeease validate me...

I'm embarrassed to be associated with them, and glad I don't have anyone sitting beside me at the opposite end of the table. I think my neurotic counterparts have paid to have Mr. McKee tell them that they are good enough; and that the world will accept them if they just hone 'this' and tweak 'that'.

I wonder if he gets sick of patting people's backs? Writers are a pain in the ass no matter how you cut it. Self-deprecating. Low self-esteem. Completely self-absorbed. Lazy...

He enters and takes a seat at the opposite end of the table. Some people immediately stand and clap. He rolls his eyes and tells them to sit down and knock it off.

I'm starting to like this guy...

"Why are you here?" he says to the room. We briefly make eye contact before he does another scan to take in all the faces.

Someone raises their hand, "To learn from the best!"

Kiss ass...

"Kiss ass! Quit your bullshit!" he snaps at them.

I think we're on the same page.

"Why ARE YOU HERE?" he asks them again. I've removed myself from the question because I know why I'm here. I'm here as a right of passage to see if he can add anything to my technique. I also want to see if he sees story telling the same way that I do.

No one answers.

He rolls his eyes again, "YOU ARE HERE," he starts; and everyone gleefully nods like little drones, "YOU ARE HERE BECAUSE YOU THINK YOU SUCK."

I laugh.

Everyone looks at me.

He's right though...

"Well then, make us better!" a keener near the side of the room chimes out. They all begin to chirp like little birds in a nest waiting for the dadda bird to feed them worms.

"Yes. Make us better," they chime.

Chirp. Chirp. Chirp.

Now, I'm really rolling my eyes.

I look at the clock. We're here until 8:30. Over two more hours to go. It's going to be a long night...

"Do you want me to spoon feed it to you, then?" he asks the room and they nod with excitement. I think his lack of interest is lost on them.

We make eye contact again, briefly.

"Alright," he says and begins, "a good writer gives us the bitter truth. And the bitter truth is a character living their life in conflict. This conflict of life is based on the reality of scarcity; like time, or love, or food. And the character dealing with this scarcity endures enormous consequences."

The room is silent. Yoda is levitating in the woods.

"People always ask me," he continues, "Robert, what is your favourite movie? And I laugh. I never tell anyone what my favourite movie is because I don't see what purpose it will serve. But I can tell you this: Romance equals Commercial Success. Take Titanic for example..."

He scans around the room. Everyone is silent. I want to hear what he has to say about Titanic because it is my all-time favourite movie. Followed by Sense & Sensibility, and then The English Patient.

I want to know what this Prick has to say about it; because I don't care what he thinks. That movie was great. Hands down. No argument there.

"Titanic had huge commercial success. I had a niece that watched that DVD every day until it wore itself out -- and I had to buy her another one. Now personally, I can't stand the movie -- but the tenants of a good story were there. There were characters, dealing with the scarcity of freedom, happiness, and free will...and they fell in love, and he died. Boom! 400 million dollars in North America alone."

Well, of course he doesn't like Titanic...it's a movie for teenage girls. I was 19 at the time when it came out. It was the middle of Christmas exams, and I couldn't run to the theatre fast enough to see it. I think I saw it five times in two weeks, and bawled my eyes out every single time.

Prick.

"Romance is huge. Another movie that I hate that did the same thing was Sense & Sensibility..."

My mind starts to drift but then catapults back when he says this. This is my second all-time favourite movie...and I have a really hard time believing that the world's leading authority on story and structure has a problem with it.

Maybe he's really telling us something for those of us who are listening? Maybe Robbie is being cryptic...

"Take nowadays for example," he continues, "what would you do if a boy suddenly showed up on your doorstep every day and professed his love and sent you flowers?"

The room is silent so I speak out of turn, "File a restraining order." I quip.

He laughs with the rest of the room; and we make eye contact.

"It's a shame, isn't it?" he says with a glimmer in his eye, "there's no Romance anymore these days?" and smiles.

"It's scarce," I ping pong back to him. The room is oblivious.

He continues talking about this dramatic sequence, and that meaningful plot point. From time to time he bitches at the room for not participating in the Q & A. He tells them that they're writers so they should be able to engage in a dialogue; not wait for someone to spoon feed it to them.

They clap.

He berates them some more.

They clap harder.

I sigh.

And then he starts surmising on how horrible The English Patient was. How this sucked, and that sucked, et cetera; et cetera.

And I smile. Because I'm pretty sure that the world's leading authority on story telling secretly loves the same movies as I do. What are the odds that he would randomly pick my top three movies of all time? It's just too coincidental.

For the rest of the Q & A I sit back and let him bring worms to the others -- but they can never keep them in their beaks. They lack the coordination to be able to feed themselves; and I don't think he can be bothered to keep picking up their spillings and giving it back to them.

I'm not sure who is more relieved; him or me, when the session finally ends? On my way out I tell him "thank you", and he nods his head and smiles one more time.

"Don't be so quick to file that restraining order," he says to me, and winks. We have a fleeting comaraderie.

I smile back because I want him to know that I actually got what he was saying -- and appreciated it. "See you in LA." I say, as I zip up my coat and put my hat on to brace the cold winter air.

And with that, I walk out the door.