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Here’s the thing: I was a comedy writer.  It took me several years to realize…I wasn’t a particularly good one.  None of my scripts came close to production.  I was trapped in what they call Development Hell.  But it’s much more like purgatory. I got so frustrated that I wrote a horror movie.  I was a rabid fan of the genre.  I consider the three best movies ever to be made to be Citizen Kane, Casablanca, and Evil Dead II.  But I had never written a horror flick before.  However, I needed to blow off some steam and murder some people in the goriest ways possible, and a horror script seemed the most sensible and legal way to do it.  I named every victim after a studio executive.  I had no further designs on the script; it was solely a therapeutic exercise.  But a friend showed it to a friend, and within a year, it was my first produced screenplay.  Now, it’s by no means a great movie, probably not even a good one.  But still, it got made, and after years of struggling, that meant something to me. And suddenly, I was a horror writer. Soon after, I had the opportunity to pitch to Warner Bros. on a pilot.  Now, I had an idea that I’d been mulling over since college, hell, since fifth grade: a series about urban legends.  We have a folklore as rich as any world mythology, as American as jazz or baseball, and few people know it.  Gory, twisty stories that illuminate our culture, our character.  They’ve long been an obsession of mine…and I’ve always dreamed of somehow turning them into a movie or TV show.  I tried to pitch the idea many times before, but it continually fell on deaf – or at least uninterested – ears.  Perhaps the market wasn’t right.  Or perhaps no one wanted to buy a gory, twisty series from a guy who wrote sub-par Adam Sandler rip-offs. But suddenly, I was a horror writer. And suddently, the market was right for horror.  And so I pitched Warner Bros. on my idea, an idea I’d slaved over, the kind of fragile idea you cup in your hands so it won’t be crushed. It was about a reporter who investigated urban legends. Warner Bros. hated it. They asked if I had anything else.  I didn’t.  All I had were a few words I’d scrawled in my notebook on a whim, literally the day before.  I’m looking at it right now.  Here it is: “One way you could do this show would be two guys on a road trip, cruising the country.  'Route 66’ style.  Brothers?”  I had nothing else to say to Warner Bros., so I said this.

Eric Kripke in Supernatural: The Official Companion Season 1 by Nicholas Knight. Titan Books, 2007: 6. (via justanotheridijiton)

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friendly reminder that if i have ever befriended you and have not spoken to you in a while it’s nothing you’ve done wrong it’s just because i’m a piece of shit at keeping in contact with people and i still love you okay good

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