My reasons for checking out of network TV and checking back in six years later were based on … something. When your mind is a mid-level executive in your own life, you go with gut instincts despite knowing that guts, whatever they are, don’t really have instincts.
To the untrained stomach, everything seemed to move along so well: A sitcom idea brushed by me like a pickpocket, and I made some calls. The 12,000th time someone’s assistant said, “I don’t have him right now,” a super pesky spot of blue dabbed my thoughts, but I ignored it.
When the calls were returned, the one-line description of the pilot excited people. So much so, a studio bought the idea without hearing what it was.
In no time, managers, executives, accountants, lawyers and assistants swooped back in my orbit. I shook off a totally annoying analogy about...