Though I was aware of Trevor Pryce‘s previous forays into the world of music, the following profile of his more recent sideline as an aspiring television/film producer is awfully inspiring — finally, someone has proven that running an independent record label need not be a professional dead end. From the New York Times’ Greg Bishop, who says of Pryce’s blitzing Hollywoood, “‘Entourage'”, this is not.”
Ideas come at random, often on the drive to football practice. Pryce estimated that he had sent more than 2,000 e-mails to himself over the past two years, all ideas, some good, some cringe-worthy in retrospect.
The good: a movie about a library employee struck by lightning who becomes a walking encyclopedia, a cartoon in which Mother Goose has a little brother who is a rapper, a crime drama set in the South, and other projects he praised but declined to discuss because he had yet to sell them.
The cringe-worthy: a television show set in Hell, Mich., where what can go wrong does, and a movie about a Guatemalan soccer team that enters the world championships only to find itself in an American football tournament.
Pryce is also writing a book he described as “Mad Max” meets “Avatar.” But on the advice of his agents, he is careful not to call himself a writer, thereby avoiding the image of a recluse in his pajamas pecking at a typewriter in the basement.