But my Christmas memory is different. It involves gangsters and guns and blood and murder. Illegal agreements made on loading docks that can be undone faster than the handshakes that sealed them. It’s about a desperate man at a crossroads in his life. That man was me.
“My Sopranos Christmas Miracle” — posted on Mulholland Books website (an imprint of publisher Little Brown)
It seemed someone had read my script.
It seemed that someone was David Chase, creator of The Sopranos.
It seemed he wanted me to write an episode of his iconic show.
It seemed that my life was about to change and never be the same again.
Now, as I approach the 10 year anniversary of that phone call, I can’t believe how little I could have predicted when I was reaching for that phone receiver. In the past decade, I’ve moved to LA; made great friends with people I never would have otherwise known; written and produced hundreds of episodes of television, films and novels. I have little children who have never shoveled show and take earthquake packs to school. And I no longer feel like I’m wasting the only go-round God gave me doing something I wasn’t born to do. I no longer feel desperate.
So you can have your yule logs and mistletoe. I’ll take .45′s and bootlegged cigarettes. Because those fictional gangsters, and the real-life Mr. Chase, gave me not only my first big break in the business, they gave me the greatest Christmas present I could have ever hoped for. A happy life, doing the only thing I was ever meant to do.
As Tony Soprano might say, “It was a f@%*ing Christmas miracle”.’
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