She caught him walking across the quad and yelled, “Hey, you!” The boy looped an index finger back at himself, gesturing and mouthing, “Who, me?” “Yes, you.” She marched toward him with the assertive flair of a third-year theatre arts major. “You stood me up last...

Over a bottle of Ram’s Gate 2009 Syrrah, they talked about the earliest event in life that each could recall. The host surprised himself by how far back he could reach, further than the others. He remembered a time when he wanted to match words to things, when he...

It annoys me when Variety and The Hollywood Reporter refer to screenwriters as “Scribes.” The trade papers call directors “Helmers,” which is to say the captains of great vessels. They call actors “Stars,” glittering bodies in the firmament. But for writers they...