B.S. Carter
- Writer
B. S. Carter began his writing career in second grade writing one-page (wide rule) sequels to movies like The Terminator and City Heat (it's a Clint Eastwood-Burt Reynolds buddy picture). B. S. dreamed of being a filmmaker, but either through laziness, A.D.D., or fear, he never finished his University of Southern California application essay in which he detailed how The Last Boy Scout is a revolutionary action movie (yes, he actually still believes this).
B. S. attended the University of South Carolina (the other USC) and flirted with English, Education, and Journalism majors before finally committing to a properly unemployable Liberal Arts degree like Media Arts. His crowning achievement was an unfinished drama short about the love affair between a virgin male and an HIV-positive female. Lesson learned: Be a writer rather than a writer/director. (Truth be told, while in college, B. S. did win the Havilah Babcock Short Story Prize for his short story "Guts," in which a high schooler tries to stop his best friend from committing suicide.)
After college, B. S. met his future wife, a stupid woman who believed in B. S. so much that she agreed to move to Los Angeles with him. There, for over nine years, he wrote, rewrote, PA-ed for free, PA-ed for money (met David Lynch), sent endless queries, entered multiple contests and fellowships, worked as a reader, worked non-industry office jobs, listened to a Richard Walter lecture (look him up, it's worth it), participated in two 48-Hour Challenges, went to a Shane Black Q & A, and couldn't get arrested as a writer to save his life.
Additionally, during that time in Los Angeles, in no particular order, the economy tanked, there was a writer's strike, B. S. and his wife struggled to get pregnant, his father died, B. S. quit smoking (gained twenty pounds in one week), B. S. and his wife were unable to sell their house, and his son was born nine and half weeks premature.
Eventually, B. S. and his wife and kid left California (in a sandstorm) and moved back to South Carolina. There, oddly enough, he "sold" three short scripts (two comedies and one thriller) and got extraordinarily close to a feature sale twice.
B. S. writes features, pilots, and shorts, in the genres of comedy, thriller, sci-fi, drama, and action. At present, his wife, successful at everything she attempts, is making a name for herself in interior design, and his son (at thirteen years-old, six feet two inches tall, thanks breast milk) can't decide if he wants to be a video game designer or a political commentator.
B. S. attended the University of South Carolina (the other USC) and flirted with English, Education, and Journalism majors before finally committing to a properly unemployable Liberal Arts degree like Media Arts. His crowning achievement was an unfinished drama short about the love affair between a virgin male and an HIV-positive female. Lesson learned: Be a writer rather than a writer/director. (Truth be told, while in college, B. S. did win the Havilah Babcock Short Story Prize for his short story "Guts," in which a high schooler tries to stop his best friend from committing suicide.)
After college, B. S. met his future wife, a stupid woman who believed in B. S. so much that she agreed to move to Los Angeles with him. There, for over nine years, he wrote, rewrote, PA-ed for free, PA-ed for money (met David Lynch), sent endless queries, entered multiple contests and fellowships, worked as a reader, worked non-industry office jobs, listened to a Richard Walter lecture (look him up, it's worth it), participated in two 48-Hour Challenges, went to a Shane Black Q & A, and couldn't get arrested as a writer to save his life.
Additionally, during that time in Los Angeles, in no particular order, the economy tanked, there was a writer's strike, B. S. and his wife struggled to get pregnant, his father died, B. S. quit smoking (gained twenty pounds in one week), B. S. and his wife were unable to sell their house, and his son was born nine and half weeks premature.
Eventually, B. S. and his wife and kid left California (in a sandstorm) and moved back to South Carolina. There, oddly enough, he "sold" three short scripts (two comedies and one thriller) and got extraordinarily close to a feature sale twice.
B. S. writes features, pilots, and shorts, in the genres of comedy, thriller, sci-fi, drama, and action. At present, his wife, successful at everything she attempts, is making a name for herself in interior design, and his son (at thirteen years-old, six feet two inches tall, thanks breast milk) can't decide if he wants to be a video game designer or a political commentator.