Read I Represent Sean Rosen Online
Authors: Jeff Baron
I didn't have anything else to say, so I finished getting dressed, maybe a little faster than usual. I started to leave, but they were blocking me (possibly on purpose), so I went around the long way.
When the fitness test started, I stopped thinking about Doug. I got the V-sit reach over with. All you do is stretch. I don't know why it's part of a fitness test, but I'm good at it, so I don't care.
I always like the shuttle run. You run to a line, pick up a block, run back, and put the block down and then you do it all again. Really fast. Like in less than ten seconds. It reminds me of getting ready for school when I'm late. I'm always in the top 15 percent in the shuttle run.
The mile run is something we all do at the same time, and it's the only part of the fitness test we do outside. I got caught in a traffic jam of kids at the beginning, but as soon as there was room, I started running past a lot of people, including Doug. After I passed him he started running faster. I didn't look back, but I could hear him. It sounded like a herd of elephants. When a herd of elephants is chasing you, you run faster. Fortunately
my
faster is faster than Doug's, so after a little while, I didn't hear him anymore. It was my best mile ever.
Then it was sit-ups. For these, it's how many you can do without stopping. If you stop for more than three seconds, you're finished. I don't like doing sit-ups, but I don't mind them. The only problem with sit-ups is that you have to do them with a partner who holds your feet down. Mr. Obester said, “Okay, Sean and Doug.” Oh, great.
Doug decided he would go first. Doug is bigger than me. A lot bigger than me. My hands don't fit around his ankles. I tried to hold his feet down, but each time he did a sit-up I almost went flying across the gym. Doug got mad. “Coach! I need somebody else.” Mr. Obester came over and held Doug's ankles and Doug started doing sit-ups.
I didn't really want Doug to hold my ankles, so I asked Ethan if he would do it. I started doing my sit-ups before Doug finished. Whoever holds your ankles counts out loud. If you're thirteen, you need fifty-three sit-ups to qualify for the President's Award. Doug did fifty-four. I did fifty-five.
Only the pull-ups were left. I asked Doug if he wanted to go first. He gave me a look that if it were translated into words would be words you're not supposed to say in school. He said, “No.
You
go.”
I started doing pull-ups. People know I'm good at them, so everyone came over and counted my pull-ups together. “Fourteen . . . fifteen . . . sixteen . . .” You only have to do seven for the President's Award, but even though I grew, they're still easy for me, so I did twenty. The last one didn't count because my legs were kicking and you're not supposed to do that.
While I was on the pull-up bar, I saw Doug on the floor doing right-angle push-ups. That's what you do if you can't do pull-ups. I wasn't surprised. There's a lot of Doug to pull up.
There were four of us (including Javier) who qualified for a President's Physical Fitness Award. Doug didn't. I guess he got a National Fitness Award.
After it was over, I found Ethan. I don't know what kind of award he won. I didn't ask and he didn't tell me. We walked back to the locker room together. It felt like a good idea to be with someone even bigger than Doug. Just in case.
W
hen I got home from school, I checked my e-mail. Martin Manager wrote back.
To: Sean Rosen
From: Martin Manager
Oh Sean, Sean, Sean . . . You're writing e-mails in the middle of the night.
I'm impressed that you managed to get an offer from a big studio. But that offer . . . I can only imagine how you feel, because I'm not an artist and I've never been assaulted the way you just were by being offered so little for something that is valuable.
Please don't take it personally. I know that's almost impossible, because it's your name on that contract, but believe me, they do this to everyone.
You would have no way of knowing this, but that was only their opening bid. Your idea is worth a lot more to them than what they offered you. They're hoping that since you don't have an agent and you don't have a manager
(he doesn't know about Dan Welch)
and you're only thirteen, you'll want to be in the movie business so badly (everybody does), that you'll agree to whatever outrageous conditions and miniscule payments they propose.
This deal can be dramatically improved, I promise you that. There's a part of me that would love to take them on and even try to punish them for trying to take advantage of a young boy.
I can't. I won't represent anyone under eighteen. I don't think kids should be in show business. It's a cruel world, and as a parent, I naturally want to protect kids from things that are bad for them. I'd leave the business myself, but my three kids are all in college.
Sean, even if you get a better deal, there are other things you need to think about. You'll be giving up your idea. They'll give it to a writer who will write the screenplay, and after that, they'll give it to another writer to rewrite the screenplay. Those writers will never speak to each other or to you.
Stefanie and her Directors of Development will be the ones giving orders to those writers. If the movie ever gets close to being made, people higher up in the company will take over, and there will almost definitely be a new writer, someone who's already written a hit movie which may be nothing at all like
A Week with Your Grandparents.
At that point, no one who ever heard you talk about your idea will be involved with the project. Each new writer will try to make it his or her own thing.
If you're determined to do this, and I'd be surprised if you weren't, you can almost definitely find an agent or a manager to represent you now. You've done the hard work. You have a formal offer from a big studio. An agent or manager will be happy to get you a better deal and take their percentage. I can't promise they won't try to take advantage of you the way the studio tried to. I can promise you that whatever an agent or manager or studio executive tells you, they won't be able to protect your idea. They can't.
Good luck to you.
Best,
Martin
It always feels strange when an adult talks to you like you're also an adult. I mostly like it. I mean, it's better than when they act like you're not there, or that you're not able to understand what they're talking about.
But sometimes I wish they would treat me like a kid. It's easier being a kid. No one expects very much from you. People take care of you. All you really have to do is show up at school, do your homework, clean your room and try not to be a jerk.
I want to be in the entertainment business, doing things that grown-ups usually do, but I think I still want to be taken care of.
Is Martin Manager taking care of me by talking to me like an adult? Or is he telling me that if I want to work with adults, I can't be a kid anymore.
I don't know. I laid down on my bed. This time I didn't have any trouble crying.
T
here was a knock on my bedroom door. I closed it when I started crying. “Hey, Seany . . . can I come in?”
“I'm taking a nap.”
“Sorry. Pizza tonight. Mom's working. What kind of ice cream do you want?”
“Chocolate. No. Let's try butter pecan. No. Dulce de leche.”
“Final answer?”
“Dulce de leche.”
“Got it.”
Talking to my dad and thinking about ice cream made me feel better. I got out of bed and read Martin Manager's e-mail again. “You can almost definitely find an agent or a manager to represent you now.”
I like thatâsomeone to represent me. My representative. I would much rather be represented than managed.
But I can't have a new representative. It wouldn't be fair to Dan Welch. Without him, I never would have even thought of
A Week with Your Grandparents
. He's the one who got me the meeting at the studio. I don't know why a gigantic entertainment company is called a studio, but that's the word Martin used.
And if I got a new manager, what would I tell Stefanie and Brad? They know Dan. They like Dan. What would they think of me if I fired him?
Martin Manager said my deal could be dramatically improved. I wonder what he would ask the studio for if I was over eighteen and he was my representative.
I don't really understand what he said about all the different writers who would work on the movie.
I'm
the writer of
A Week with Your Grandparents
. I haven't actually written it yet, but I'm planning to.
When you look at the credits on a movie, a lot of times there's more than one writer. Sometimes there are four writers. Sometimes even more. I thought they all sat in a room and wrote it together. I didn't realize it's one, then another, then another, then another.
If the studio likes my idea enough to buy it, wouldn't they want me to write it? It's a story about kids, and I'm an actual kid. I know the story better than anyone else. They only heard it once. How will they even remember it all?
Unless they were recording our meeting, too. I wonder if they were.
I wonder if Stefanie knows that business affairs sent me this agreement. I wonder if she saw it.
I decided to let Dan Welch handle this.
To: Stefanie V. President
From: Dan Welch Management
Dear Stefanie,
You're probably a mom by now, and first of all, I want to congratulate you. As a parent myself, I can tell you that you'll never forget these first days with Marisa. I bet she's adorable.
I never knew Dan Welch has kids. I wonder how many. And how old they are. I can't fire him. He has a family.
I know you've been busy, so I'm sure you haven't seen the Option Agreement that your business affairs department sent me for Sean Rosen the other day. I'll attach a copy.
I'm actually not sure she didn't see the Option Agreement. I don't think Dan Welch is either, but he's smart to say it that way. If
I
was writing to her I would probably say, “Why? Why? Do you hate me?”
You and I don't really know each other, but this agreement doesn't seem like something you would ever send. Sean and I both like you so much, and you've certainly treated us well so far. Sean said you offered him water at your Skype meeting. Funny.
Just then I got a text from Buzz.
Be in hour bannd
I had no idea what he was saying. I texted him back.
Busy right now.
I got back to Dan's letter.
Sean thought you were seriously interested in
A Week with Your Grandparents,
and when I received your e-mail after the meeting, I thought so, too. For some reason, your business affairs department doesn't seem to think so.
Buzz texted again.
Not now rehurs 2sday
What is he talking about? I texted back.
What are you talking about?!
I should have just turned off my phone, but I didn't. I continued with Dan's letter.
As you know,
A Week with Your Grandparents
is a very good movie idea. Sean told me you asked him not to talk about it with anyone else. He hasn't, so far. But like most thirteen-year-olds, Sean can be a bit impatient.
I can't believe Dan said that about me. I think I'm actually
more
patient than a lot of kids. I know he only said it to make Stefanie a little nervous, but still. Buzz texted me again.
I told u a bannd
I went back over his other texts. Okay. He's asking me to be in his band. Buzz plays guitar. He's starting a band. But why ask
me
? I texted back.
I don't play anything.
He texted back right away.
Singger
Can he really not know how to spell singer? I actually do like to sing, and I think it would be really cool to sing with a band, but
a) I don't think I'm good enough
b) I really can't imagine singing in front of people.
I also couldn't imagine playing a character on stage before
Le Bistro
last year, but this sounds even harder to do.
Le Bistro
was so bad that
I
actually seemed good by comparison. But Buzz is good on the guitar and I'd be singing with him and whoever else is in the band. I texted: Who else is in the band?
He texted back.
Dug
He means Doug. Buzz was part of the whole tree house thing. I didn't know he stayed friends with Doug. I texted him.
Sorry. Can't. Too busy.
Where was I? Oh right. Dan Welch's e-mail to Stefanie.
I know this is the last thing you want to be thinking about right now, and if you can't help us with this, please let me know.