This is a partial rerun of a post that ran here on November 11, 2019…

In 1977, the film The Goodbye Girl was a surprise smash hit. It had a screenplay by Neil Simon and its two leads — Marsha Mason and Richard Dreyfuss — were nominated for Academy Awards, as was the film itself. Dreyfuss won his category, becoming at the time the youngest Best Actor in Oscar history. Very much a successful film.

In 1992, it was announced that Mr. Simon was transforming his screenplay into a Broadway musical of the same name. If ever an upcoming show looked like a guaranteed smash, this was it. Just the fact that it was Neil Simon and a beloved storyline sold a lot of tickets. When it was announced that David Zippel and Marvin Hamlisch were doing the music and Michael Kidd was directing, they sold more. And they probably couldn't have found two bigger stars to star than Bernadette Peters and Martin Short.

The advance sale was huge. So were the problems during rehearsals and tryouts. So was the disappointment of many when the show finally opened on March 4, 1993. The previous Neil Simon musical, They're Playing Our Song, ran for 1,082 performances. The Goodbye Girl closed after 188.

How could "the show that couldn't fail" fail? There were many factors and in his autobiography, Mr. Simon blamed everyone but Mr. Simon, implying he thought it was a terrible idea to try to make that movie into a stage musical. He didn't really explain though why he agreed to do it. I mean, it wasn't like he needed the money or the credit.

I saw one of the 188 performances and we somehow got tickets at the last minute…in the front row! I liked parts of it, especially David Zippel's lyrics which I thought were often funnier than what was coming out of the actors' mouths when they weren't singing. Before I explain what I didn't like, give me a sec to put up one of these…

There. Read on at your own risk. Like most musicals, the plot was about two people who shouldn't be together and maybe don't even like each other for most of Act One winding up very much in love. Anna never imagined she'd fall for the King of Siam. Marian the Librarian was repulsed at first by the traveling salesman, Harold Hill. Eliza Doolittle never dreamed she'd care about Henry Higgins…and in The Goodbye Girl, Paula McFadden (Bernadette on stage) never thought she'd have anything but disdain for Martin Short's character, Elliot Garfield.

You know how it's going to end before they even start the overture but you're going to pretend you don't, just as you pretend you don't see the wires that fly Peter Pan around, just as you pretend you don't know the ending of any play you've seen before. Well, with The Goodbye Girl, it was hard to pretend. From the moment he set foot on that stage, Martin Short was so funny and so adorable that you got angry with Bernadette's character for not falling in love with him ten minutes into the play. After fifteen, I wanted to marry him. That she kept treating this hilarious, wondrous guy like crap was more frustrating than amusing.

I also thought the set was confusing and that Short snuck in too many Ed Grimley gestures along with the occasional taste of Jerry Lewis. He made you laugh but as Martin Short, not as Elliot Garfield. I liked him better (but laughed at him less) a few years later in a revival of Little Me.

But you can see a little of the show for yourself here. This is the Press Reel offering video excerpts for TV reviewers to use in their reviews…

Another Chita Rivera number. She did this in a show I saw her do at the Westwood Playhouse in — I'm guessing — 1979. I didn't know until I saw this clip that it was written by Kander and Ebb but I probably should have guessed. The video is a bit out of sync but she never was…

Here's a letter from my longtime pal Bruce Reznick…and lemme tell you how long I've known Bruce. The year we first met, Charlie Chaplin released his last movie, Muhammad Ali was still Cassius Clay and he was stripped of his boxing championship for refusing to go fight in the Vietnam War, and the highest-rated TV program in this country was The Andy Griffith Show,

Bruce will probably write and tell me I have the year wrong and if he does, he's probably right since he's one of the smartest guys I've ever known. His specialty is mathematics and he took time out from trisecting angles to send me this about writing on a computer…

Hi, Mark. I can tell you my experiences, which are different from yours, but lead to the same conclusion.

Typing a math paper usually requires symbols and letters from other alphabets, and when I started, before word processing computers, it required special symbol balls on IBM selectrics. (On PhD theses, which are not actually published, a lot of symbols were written in by hand.) You wrote your paper as best you could and sent it to the typist, and didn't do much revisions after that.

Once mathematicians got computers, we got programs that let us write symbols ourselves and papers ourselves. It takes a little longer because we go through way more revisions, but we can get the paper to look like what we want.

My father used to say of a draft that it "needs to be run through the typewriter again". A disadvantage of the current system is that you can passively keep parts you don't want to think about, even when it would be better if you started from scratch.

I had issues with typists because my handwriting wasn't very good. My favorite example was a paper in which I wrote in pencil "One often is interested in questions of the following kind," and the very patient typist wrote: "One of ten is interested in questions of the following kind". I wish.

The more I write on a computer, the harder it is to believe that I wrote my first work on that little Olivetti-Underwood manual portable that I have in my garage. It really now looks like something I must have found at a toy store.

I used that Fischer-Price plaything for my earliest professional work including scripts for DC, Disney and Gold Key. Then I upgraded to electric and Selectric and finally to my first word processor. I think my work was getting better during this period — or as some might say, less rotten — and some of that was simple experience. But some of it was the tool of my trade: The computer. I know it led me to do more revisions and had other benefits as well.

My friend Harlan Ellison worked the way he worked and it obviously worked for him. But one time at his house, in a workroom built to disadvantage someone of my height, he sat me down at his desk and asked me to type out, on his typewriter, some notes for an article he was doing for Playboy on the then-current comic book scene. If you're wondering how Groo the Wanderer got into that article…well, that's how.

Harlan wrote brilliant stories and essays on that typewriter on that desk sitting in that chair. I couldn't write so much as a colon..and not even a whole colon but one of the semi variety. I wound up sitting on the floor doing it in longhand on a legal pad. The way some of us work is simply that personal. We can make exceptions for special circumstances but our main, real work is done how and where we feel at home. Which is why I would never tell another writer how he or she should work or what they should write on.

Dick Van Dyke and Chita Rivera have a nice chat at the Kennedy Center Awards ceremony…

Ryan Mascord sent me this message which raises a great many topics. Let's see if I can answer all of them. I have left his spelling and punctuation almost intact…

Here is a okay question for you I think and kinda builds on some stuff with artists and Inkers. kinda a bit long so sorry for that.

In the UK, we are more used to comics having an artist who draws, inks and often colours their own work, with a second person doing the lettering or sometimes colouring, through it's not out of the norm to have one person handle all that themselves, where in the US comic style, you are more used to a penciler, inker, colourist and letterer.

This isn't going to ask if you think US artists are lazyer as they often don't get the choice and sometimes I can see how some inkers can improve some work.. but that's been talked about alot. the question is more do you think some artist who work with a inker (who is themselves an artist.. I probably should just say 'penciler') gets a bit lazy? I can't remember his name but there was a famous 18th/19th century designer who when he did a house, he designed the wallpaper and stuff, but over the years of working with the same people, his pencil sketches would get rougher because the person that was 'inking' the work knew what some line was so they knew what detail to add.

I know from my own experience that when you ink your own work, your sketching can become more sketchy and worse because you know you are inking it and what you mean with various bits. This can also be said to some pencilers who ink their own work, do you think there sketching can get lazyer when they know they can 'fix' something in the inking. Do you think if they then have to use another person, there work suffers because of the habbit of being lazy? I started to think more about this, not only work my own minor work but when re-reading one old interview with the… great writer of Harlan Ellison:

"When PCs first started being used by writers, I said "This is not a good idea". Using PCs for doing term papers, or scientific treatises, for lists, for stuff like that, it's fine, but NOT for creative work. Because all I've ever heard, and I've heard this from many many writers, now I'm no longer alone in this philosophy, in saying "Gardez Vous", you know, "Be careful" – what I've heard now is many writers saying yes, it has made them write in a more slovenly fashion. They are not nearly as alert to the fact that they're going to actually have to do the physical labor of changing something. All they know is that if they do it wrong, all they have to do is press a button."

which seems to me to apply equally to artists who became 'lazyer' because of the inker they are working with, or if they do digtal inking/corrections on their work.

and while i'm at it, since i have asked before without an answer.. The best and 'most complete' collection of DNAgents so far is the industrial strength. while i'm in two minds about the 'editing' and redoing of some pages, they do look good.. even if they are major changes in some places.. When are the rest of the issues, spin-offs and stuff gonna get some love and a collection so people can enjoy these stories? picking up old issues is a pain if I was in the US, let alone the UK.

Okay, I'll try this in reverse order: There are currently no plans for further reprints of DNAgents and its allied titles, especially Crossfire I wish I could tell you it was in the offing but it ain't so and won't be so until some honest, trustworthy publisher comes forward with a smart proposal.

I argued often with my old friend Harlan — sometimes, I thought, because there was a genuine issue on the table and sometimes, I thought more often, because he just liked being an old contrarian. Our ongoing debate about writers using computers started out about writers using those primitive things called "word processors" and his was an odd position for a writer obsessed with delivering the cleanest-possible copy.

You stated his position. Mine was that composing on a computer has made it easier for me to go over and over what I've written and revise, revise, revise. Something I liked doing and still do is when I'm midway through a script is to take what I've written, save a copy as "Version 1" and then I can revise and extend the script in radical ways, safe in the knowledge that if it doesn't work out to my liking, I can go back to Version 1 in two secs.

It used to be that when I had what could have been a finished script, I mailed it off or delivered it. Now, I fiddle with it longer, time permitting. I replace some words with better words, punch up jokes, trim out redundant passages, smooth out speeches, try moving around sections, trim out redundant passages…

…and then I hit Send and it's off. It can be waiting in the inbox of the editor/producer tomorrow morning. He or she can give me notes that day and I can upload revisions while the writer who writes at a typewriter is still looking for a manila envelope and some stamps.

I know it makes it easier but I think it makes it better. At least, that's been my experience.

As for thinking of artists as lazier (or even "lazyer") when they don't ink, I think you're wrong. The artist who doesn't ink his or her work is usually not lazy. Usually, that artist is choosing to pencil two stories in the time he or she might be doing the complete art on one.

Sometimes, that's the artist's choice. He loves the "storytelling" aspect of drawing comics and feels that inking the comic means spending more time working on a story he's already told instead of getting to the next one. Jack Kirby was in that category.

Some artists simply think they're better (or maybe faster and can therefore make more money) doing just one part of the job. Frank Giacoia once told me — and these may not be the exact numbers — that he made fifty cents an hour penciling and five dollars inking. Inkers are often matched with pencilers to achieve a certain "look" to the finished art that would not have resulted from one guy working solo. There are other reasons.

I'm not saying I agree with the casual division of work this way. Elsewhere on this blog, I've argued that too often editors had one artist pencil and another ink because it served the company's interest, and that an awful lot of comics of the past would have been better if they'd allowed one person to do them both. But I have never seen laziness as a reason. I haven't even seen laziness on some comics I thought weren't very good. An artist who's lazy usually doesn't stick around the business for very long.

Thanks for the long letter, Ryan. I hope you thought my not-as-long replies were worth it.

Are you per chance a bit puzzled as to what happened in E. Jean Carroll's second civil case against Donald Trump? He certainly seems to be. He needs to watch Devin "Legal Eagle" Stone explain it all…and if you're like him, so do you.

He is not complimentary about Trump attorney Alina Habba and I don't see that anyone is. But I have to wonder: How many of those unprofessional, detrimental-to-her-own-case utterances and motions were her bad lawyering and how many were insisted upon by her client, trying to make the trial go in ways he could spin to his followers as unfair?

We may have to wait until Ms. Habba turns on said client and writes the inevitable "It Wasn't My Fault" book to find out. For now, here's The Eagle…

Chita Rivera was sensational in everything she did…even this number from The Ed Sullivan Show for 6/3/62…

One of Trump's more overt criminal actions was the attempt in Georgia to flip election results that several recounts had proven were totally legit. That attempt was foiled by a lot of heroism and it's recounted in a new book I just ordered. Check out this interview with its authors…

This is partial rewrite of a post I put up here on November 21, 2012. We were talking about a bunch of rules that the fine author Robert Heinlein had laid down for writers…

Robert A. Heinlein had five rules for writing:

1. You must write.
2. You must finish what you write.
3. You must refrain from rewriting, except to editorial order.
4. You must put the work on the market.
5. You must keep the work on the market until it is sold.

I feel odd just typing the words, "I disagree with Robert Heinlein" but I disagree with Robert Heinlein…a little. And I don't think the differences are due to him writing for different markets.

Yes, you must write. Yes, you must finish things but you don't have to finish everything you start. I seriously doubt Mr. Heinlein ever wrote the first few paragraphs of a story, realized it wasn't going anywhere but thought, "Rats! My premise isn't very sound but since I started this thing, I have to finish it." Even a man as clever as Robert Heinlein was has some ideas that are better than others and there's no shame in pitching the weaker ones.

So I agree with #1 and I think #2 should read, "You must produce a decent amount of finished, ready-to-sell material" or words to that effect.

In #3, I suspect what he meant is that you shouldn't keep polishing and rewriting and doing Draft #93 to stall the moment at which you send a piece of writing into the world for acceptance or rejection. Certainly, he didn't mean that if you write something and decide the middle is weak, you shouldn't go back and rewrite it. (As I recall, when Harlan Ellison quotes these rules, he appends to #3 something like, "…assuming you think the editorial order isn't stupid." I'm with Harlan on that.)

I'm not sure I agree with #4 or #5, which are pretty much the same rule. I have a screenplay that I wrote years ago that I liked at the time. I was alone in this opinion. No one else who read it thought much of it, not even my agent who was my agent because he liked most everything I did.

At my insistence, he submitted it to a number of producers and I gave it to a few. Not only did no one leap to buy it but I came to the conclusion that it was lowering their opinions of me as a writer. That is never a good thing.

So I stopped submitting it. Years later, I gave it another read and decided I was right to give up on it. The writer who thinks he never writes anything below the standard he seeks to maintain is a chowderhead.

Once its flaws became more obvious to me, I briefly considered revising it and trying again. Then I decided that time could be put to wiser use. I have other, better ideas — at least, I hope they're better — that I haven't had time to pursue. Why devote that energy to an idea I don't even like that much now.

I somehow don't think Mr. Heinlein would urge me to decide otherwise. Another maxim of the writing game is to always lead with your best. No matter what I do to it, I don't think the script no one liked will ever be my best.

As a writer, your value to those who hire or buy is that you give them something that is of use to them. You give an editor a book he thinks is worth publishing. You give a producer a script he thinks is worth producing. An editor or producer faces the same imperative as you. Just as you have to write, they have to cause product to be created.

If you deliver material that make this possible, you are of use to them and they will like you (enough) and give you money (sometimes enough) and enable your work to go onto the next step of printing or publication — which is presumably what you really want.

Heinlein was railing against writers who don't write…or don't write enough. I'm with him on that. I think the profession is glutted with too many people who excuse (or worse, romanticize) non-production. Yes, you can't sell a half-finished piece. You also can't sell a rotten piece…or if you can, sometimes you shouldn't.

I don't like critiquing other writers' work but every so often, I get roped into reviewing portfolios or samples at a convention. I showed up at a con once and without telling me, they'd advertised that I would review materials by wanna-be comic book writers and artists and advise them on how much potential they had or suggest where they could get work…or something.

I hate doing this kind of thing. My head is full of my own unfinished stories and I don't have room to cram someone else's in there. I also don't feel my opinions are so infallible that someone else should be basing the management of their career on them. I've seen lots of published comics or produced movies based on scripts I would have deemed unworthy.

When I'm stuck inspecting samples, one sign of outright amateurism I encounter is this. A kid will come up to show me his artwork and before I've even formulated a snap opinion — sometimes, before I've even opened the folio — they start with the excuses: "I did this a few years ago"…"Oh, I did that one when I had the flu"…"I had a lot of trouble with my pen on this one…" An oft-heard one is, "I know this looks bad there but the editor insisted I do it that way."

As I've learned from others who do these critiques more often and willingly, the proper response is to close the portfolio, hand it back to them and say, "Come back when you can show me only work you're proud of." It's usually the most valuable advice you can give these folks and I can't square that with Heinlein's #3-5.

Like I said, I'm not comfy disagreeing with one of my favorite authors but I think he would have approved of any writer who created a lot of work and saw most of it go on to be published or produced. There's also that happy bonus when you're at least reasonably proud of most of it.

Oh, and the money. The money can be nice, too.

Welcome to what might just be the worst week in the life of Donald J. Trump. Oh, the week he lost to Joe Biden might have been the worst but Donald was able to pretend he won…and he even got an awful lot of people to join him in denial. Amazingly, some people still buy into that after Trump lost every single case he brought to prove it, even being shot down by judges he appointed.

Last week, losing all that money to E. Jean Carroll might have been the worst until this one. This one will include the judgement in a civil case that will make the 83 mil look like pocket change. And his public utterances will grow even more insane.

If you don't understand this man and why he's acting the way he does, go to YouTube and watch any recent video with George Conway, a man who knows Trump well. Here… I'll link you to one.

One of my (and I hope your) favorite sketches from one of my (and I hope your) favorite years of Saturday Night Live.

Someone who bills himself as "Trevor the Games Man" wrote to me about something that isn't really worth it lot of discussion so of course we're going to discuss it…

I'm a full-time entertainer. A gender-neutral word for "showmanship" is "stage presence", as in "That performer has such excellent stage presence: they had the audience in the palm of their hand the entire show."

I dunno, Trevor the Games Man, I always thought the word "showmanship" applied to a person who put on the show even if they themselves did not perform. In the case of your shows, I suspect you do both. "Stage Presence" is what an individual performer or act brings to the proceedings. My friend, the late Max Maven, used to define it, at least with with regards to magicians, as "Establishing a rapport with the audience that makes them eager to follow you wherever you take them."

Which I guess is the same as your definition. I still think I need a word to describe the quality a lady would be demonstrating if she assembled but did not appear in a great show.

One of my favorite magicians, Daniel Roy, demonstrates his version of the classic trick/swindle, The Three Card Monte. Don't blink…

This is a rerun from 4/22/10. Hope you like it…

In his latest column, my friend and former partner Dennis Palumbo discusses the tendency for a writer to hold onto a line and to keep trying to find a place for it. This is absolutely true with most of us who write for a living.

And Dennis's piece reminded me of a joke that Evanier and Palumbo once wrote, managed to get into a script…and then we couldn't get rid of it fast enough. Every writer has a couple of these, too.

It was while we were working on Welcome Back, Kotter. There was an episode in which Vinnie Barbarino (the Travolta character) was making his acting debut. Around 3 AM one morning, a day or two before we taped, Dennis and I found ourselves punchy from lack of sleep and desperate from lack of a funny line for Mr. Woodman, the surly vice-principal. We needed to have him say something, get a laugh and then get out of the scene. We had to come up with it before we could get out of the office and go home.

One of us said, "Let's have Woodman say something about how he used to be a great actor."

The other one of us said, "Yeah…He could say, 'Y'know, Kotter, I used to be a pretty good actor. In college, we did Of Mice and Men.'"

And then in unison, we finished the line: "I played Mice."

We laughed for about six minutes. If you'd been that tired, you would have laughed, too. Then I typed it into the script, we laughed for three more minutes and we finally got the hell out of there. We thought it was the funniest line in the world…and at 3 AM, it was. In fairness to us, the next day the cast and the rest of the staff liked it a lot — enough that it stayed in, all the way through Tuesday afternoon. That was when we did the "dress rehearsal" — the first of two tapings that day — in front of very live audiences.

Mr. Woodman was played by a lovely little man named John Sylvester White. John was very funny on the show but he suffered through moments of pure stage fright. About ten minutes before he had to go before the cameras, he would become convinced that none of his lines would work, that the audience would hate him and that his career was but seconds from total ruination. This never came close to happening but it was often necessary to reassure him that he'd get laughs, that the audience would love him, etc. That afternoon, just before the show was to be performed the first time, Dennis and I wandered onto the set and John, in a state of panic, grabbed us.

He was in full make-up but he still looked pale. "That Mice and Men joke," he said. "Is that really funny?" We promised him the viewers would howl and he took us at our word and went out to do the show. Things went pretty well up until that moment, the moment when Mr. Woodman turned to Gabe Kaplan and said, "Y'know, Kotter. I used to be a pretty good actor. In college, we did Of Mice and Men. I played Mice!"

And then there was silence.

Absolute, dead silence. Not a laugh, not a chuckle, not a snicker. You would hear more noise if you were floating in the orbital path of Mars…and wearing earplugs.

And then because, I guess, he felt he had to say something before his exit and didn't particularly want to take the rap for the Mice joke, Mr. Woodman announced to Mr. Kotter, "Evanier and Palumbo told me that would get a laugh." The audience exploded in hysterics. Maybe the biggest laugh I ever heard on that stage. They didn't know who the hell Evanier and Palumbo were but they knew exactly what had happened.

Needless to say, the line was changed before the final taping…changed to something that the second audience actually laughed at. In-between the two tapings, there was a dinner break and everyone on the crew looked at Dennis and me and shook their heads, though a few were kind enough to say, "Well, I thought it was funny." When we worked on the following week's script, Dennis talked me out of a line I wanted to put in. I wanted Woodman to say, "Y'know, Kotter. I used to be a pretty good actor. In college, we did Of Mice and Men. I played Men!"

Like Dennis said in his article, some of us just don't know when to give up. I still think the Mice line would have killed if we'd aired the show at 3 AM.

Can any state become un~united from the United States? Devin "Legal Eagle" Stone says no and here's his explanation why…