It's finally over! Now I can get back to work. Kidding, kidding. I don't have the luxury of striking, even if I wanted to. If people didn't pay me to write I'd probably scribble things down on scratch papers and go around handing them to strangers.
Actually, one of the deals that I have in the works was specifically because I don't belong to the union. Some of the union wages for writers are extremely high. I think I've mentioned it here before, but I know a few people in the (B) movie industry, one of which is an investor interested in one of my stories. In the B movie realm, they don't have a budget for union writers, and usually pay about half of the union screenwriter's fee. There have been a few talks this year about turning my thing into something for the Sci-Fi Channel. All they are waiting for right now is a treatment.
The problem is, it scares the life out of me. My fiction is always an evolving process, unlike the non-fiction that comes flying out daily. If I finish the treatment and they hate it, well, that's pretty much it. If I don't finish it, I get to keep my daydreams about seeing my sci-fi story on my non-flat screen, ancient TV one cozy evening. They want the treatment. I just don't know that I'm ready. What makes someone take that leap and just say, here is my thing- it's great! Take it and film it! I don't know. I wish I did.