Q. Whose idea was it to have Bill Blinn interview Bill Blinn?

A. Not Bill Blinn’s.

Q. Are you ill at ease with this?

A. Very.

Q. Why?

A. Because I suspect I might fall into the ego-mode of thinking I really have something meaningful or profound to say and I know that’s a bogus notion. I am not a philosopher or sociologist and if I light a match in the tunnel, chances are it is to see how much methane is there.

Q. You’ve been in the TV business since that Pontiac Indian test pattern. You were just given the Paddy Chayefsky TV Laurel Award by the WGA. Don’t you have any advice to offer young writers?

A. Yes. Get out of the business; there’s too much competition as it is.

Q. That’s all?

A. If they’d just follow it, that would be enough.

Q. There must be something you can say that would help.

A. I cannot teach anyone to write. That’s because I don’t think a person can be taught how to write. If it’s there, it’s something you learn on your own. You learn by reading other writers, the best you can find. (And not just screenplays, either. Anything and everything. Reading screenplays is just scouting the competition.) Read novels and essays and nonfiction and poetry. Learn to love the melody of language, then be brave enough to not be seduced by it. Articles of this nature are fond of recommending William Goldman’s ‘ADVENTURES IN THE SCREENTRADE’. All well and good; it’s a masterful book. But how many young writers know that Goldman is also a gifted and insightful novelist? TEMPLE OF GOLD, YOUR TURN TO CURTSY MY TURN TO BOW, SOLDIER IN THE RAIN, THE THING OF IT IS. Track them down. Read them. Soak it up. Be strong enough not to copy what’s there.

Q. Should writers write what they know?

A. Frankly, we don’t know all that much.

Q. What was the biggest mistake you have made in all these years of writing and producing?

A. It was always the same mistake and I made it time and time again.

Q. And it was…

A. Trying to be cool, trying to appear so hip and sophisticated that I passed on asking the questions I so very much wanted to ask. I have been lucky enough to work with a long list of accomplished and talented people, people whose skills and backgrounds are in the Pantheon of our business. But instead of acknowledging my admiration, I played cool. I never said: “Mister Widmark, can I sit with you at lunch and ask you about ‘Night and the City’ and ‘The Bedford Incident’ and ‘Two Rode Together’?” Never said, “Mister Wise, what was it like to be Orson Welles’ editor on ‘Citizen Kane’? Was there a lot of studio opposition to ‘The Setup’? ‘West Side Story’? ‘The Day the Earth Stood Still’? And it’s not just the towering greats who can help you see ahead by telling you what went before. I made the same mistake with Billy Witney, a guy who directed countless serials and Roy Rogers features and Gene Autry programs. Avoid being cool. Keep your kid alive and keep asking questions. None of us know it all and none of us ever will. Ask and listen and then ask again, jut to make sure you heard it right. Being ‘cool’ is creative suicide.

Q. Have you ever written a terrible script?

A. Yes and no. Every terrible script I’ve written – and I tow a battleship full of bullshit in that regard – was honestly as good as I could possibly make it at the time. I never surrendered, but I didn’t always win.

Q. Do you like the office better than the set, or vice versa?

A. Can’t answer. When the script is forming well and the solitude is paying off, there’s no better place to be than the office. The movie I see on the page can never be matched in actuality. The set, on the other hand, is a gathering place of gifted artists and craftsmen and professionals working as a cohesive unit, closing in on the common goal, sharing in the experience with enthusiasm and joy.

Q. Anything you dislike about the set?

A. Craft service. I have no willpower when it comes to salsa.

Q. Ever wanted to direct?

A. Only when the female lead was really, really pretty.

Q. What mistakes have you made, ones you’d like to correct if you could go back?

A. I once agreed to ‘interview’ myself for the Caucus Journal. Too late now.