By Hollywood Reporter, Oct. 18, 2017
I ever knew I wanted to endure a writer. As luck would convey it, my outset 3 mentors were Hollywood giants Norman Lear, James L. Brooks too Larry Gelbart. These manufacture icons non alone taught me everything I know well-nigh writing, they were too perfect gentlemen who never exuded fifty-fifty a hint of sexual impropriety. It wasn't until a few years after that I began to sense sexual harassment — the producer's paw rubbing my dorsum within my blouse during meetings; the studio exec who, on my outset day, encouraged me to vesture a bikini to run (sadly, I genuinely asked, "Why, is in that place a pool?"); the talent agent I literally had to wrestle to the pose down inward companionship to locomote out of his house. I didn't know too thus that this is a man's town, based generally on manful somebody friendships. Forget those iconic letters that brand upwards the Hollywood sign. It would endure much to a greater extent than plumbing equipment if in that place was a giant penis casting a shadow over all the women who tirelessly endeavour to ascension to a higher house this unpoliced playground for men.
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