Thanks boys.
Now I can go back to writing.
Monday, October 29, 2007
Friday, October 19, 2007
Thanks Jehovah
Ohhhhh. So that's what they meant. All suffering soon to end.
The Red Sox won -- and I had my laptop with me, you know, on my lap, while I watched the game.
So my Sox stay alive and I also did some writing. Not a whole lot of writing, mind you, but some writing.
Whew. On both fronts.
The Red Sox won -- and I had my laptop with me, you know, on my lap, while I watched the game.
So my Sox stay alive and I also did some writing. Not a whole lot of writing, mind you, but some writing.
Whew. On both fronts.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
All Suffering SOON TO END!
Playoff baseball is bad for my writing.
The Red Sox being down 3-1 in the ALCS is bad for my everything.
But, I was accosted by a disarmingly sweet Jehovah’s Witness at the gas station this morning and handed a small booklet entitled “All Suffering SOON TO END!”
Might this mean the Sox are going to win tomorrow night, and the two games thereafter, then sweep the Rockies in the World Series?
Or, does it mean the Sox lose tomorrow and are eliminated, which signals the end of playoff baseball –- or at least the need to watch every second of it -– for a die hard Sox fan… so I can write again at night?
Which suffering is it, Ms. Witness? Sox keep going and win the series but I still don’t get to write for a while? Or Sox get knocked out and I go back to writing?
By the way, the booklet mentions that soon God will remove wickedness from the earth and this planet will become the paradise it once was. The part about this that concerns me is that the booklet also declares that all the dead people will be brought back to life to enjoy the new paradise.
We’ve seen the movies, so we know how it ends when the dead are brought back to life.
Plus, think of the traffic jams…
(Shit. It just occurred to me. Maybe I'm part of the wickedness that will soon be removed. Guess that solves my traffic worries anyway.)
The Red Sox being down 3-1 in the ALCS is bad for my everything.
But, I was accosted by a disarmingly sweet Jehovah’s Witness at the gas station this morning and handed a small booklet entitled “All Suffering SOON TO END!”
Might this mean the Sox are going to win tomorrow night, and the two games thereafter, then sweep the Rockies in the World Series?
Or, does it mean the Sox lose tomorrow and are eliminated, which signals the end of playoff baseball –- or at least the need to watch every second of it -– for a die hard Sox fan… so I can write again at night?
Which suffering is it, Ms. Witness? Sox keep going and win the series but I still don’t get to write for a while? Or Sox get knocked out and I go back to writing?
By the way, the booklet mentions that soon God will remove wickedness from the earth and this planet will become the paradise it once was. The part about this that concerns me is that the booklet also declares that all the dead people will be brought back to life to enjoy the new paradise.
We’ve seen the movies, so we know how it ends when the dead are brought back to life.
Plus, think of the traffic jams…
(Shit. It just occurred to me. Maybe I'm part of the wickedness that will soon be removed. Guess that solves my traffic worries anyway.)
Friday, October 12, 2007
Riding The Rationalization Horse Now
I’ve fallen off the write-every-day horse.
But wait, not really.
My job developing TV series requires me to write every day, a lot of the time all day every day.
Brainstorming new concepts, honing those concepts into structured series, researching. Creating storylines, writing crisply, designing dramatic verbal pitches. Always keeping in mind brands and formats, marketability and resonance to specific demographics. Revising, revising, revising. Throwing out ideas that end up going nowhere and starting over.
But I’m rationalizing, aren’t I?
This isn’t screenwriting.
It’s good training for screenwriting, to be sure. But it’s not screenwriting.
Gotta get back on the horse.
I have nine pages on the new action script. It’s a good beginning, but I was thinking this morning that instead of continuing with the story, I want to stop and do some thorough character sketching.
I’ve never done this in preparing for a script, but for this one to work, my two main characters need to be razor-sharp. My fear is that they could end up being too much alike and/or too hackneyed. So I’m gonna sketch them out before the plot thickens.
Saddle up.
By the way, I had a great pitch meeting with a cool cable channel on Wednesday. They loved the series concept. Two good signs: after my first couple sentences, the VP says, “What a great title -– I like it already.” And then, midway into my pitch, as I told a spooky story that could be part of the show, she says, “Ooh, I’ve got goosebumps!”
We have a little follow-up work to do, which we can do quickly -– but the decision to greenlight or not is gonna have to wait until the first of the year because they’re operating under strict commissioning parameters that have their hands tied until then.
Curses.
I just hope their brand doesn’t morph again by January…
But wait, not really.
My job developing TV series requires me to write every day, a lot of the time all day every day.
Brainstorming new concepts, honing those concepts into structured series, researching. Creating storylines, writing crisply, designing dramatic verbal pitches. Always keeping in mind brands and formats, marketability and resonance to specific demographics. Revising, revising, revising. Throwing out ideas that end up going nowhere and starting over.
But I’m rationalizing, aren’t I?
This isn’t screenwriting.
It’s good training for screenwriting, to be sure. But it’s not screenwriting.
Gotta get back on the horse.
I have nine pages on the new action script. It’s a good beginning, but I was thinking this morning that instead of continuing with the story, I want to stop and do some thorough character sketching.
I’ve never done this in preparing for a script, but for this one to work, my two main characters need to be razor-sharp. My fear is that they could end up being too much alike and/or too hackneyed. So I’m gonna sketch them out before the plot thickens.
Saddle up.
By the way, I had a great pitch meeting with a cool cable channel on Wednesday. They loved the series concept. Two good signs: after my first couple sentences, the VP says, “What a great title -– I like it already.” And then, midway into my pitch, as I told a spooky story that could be part of the show, she says, “Ooh, I’ve got goosebumps!”
We have a little follow-up work to do, which we can do quickly -– but the decision to greenlight or not is gonna have to wait until the first of the year because they’re operating under strict commissioning parameters that have their hands tied until then.
Curses.
I just hope their brand doesn’t morph again by January…
Thursday, October 04, 2007
Does That Count?
I’ve kept up the write-everyday thing, but only if you count writing as opening up the script, fixing a spelling error, re-titling it again, thinking about it for a few minutes and then saving and closing it again.
Do you count that as writing?
I do.
On the new script I have only four pages. But they’re okay. Today in the shower I outlined the next scene but haven’t had time today to actually write it.
This script is a departure for me –- an action script. Which is probably why it’s exciting.
I’ve sketched out an idea of the arc of the first two acts but I don’t know how it ends. I’m not too worried, though, as even having an idea about two acts is more than I usually plan in advance. I tend to like having the story unfold as I develop the characters. Let them do a little storytelling. They usually do alright
Well, back to work -– prepping for a pitch meeting at a cable channel next Wednesday and we gotta have our shit together. Gotta get some more series signed, to keep the workplace going, to get more paychecks, to keep the power on in the house, so I can finish this action script…
Do you count that as writing?
I do.
On the new script I have only four pages. But they’re okay. Today in the shower I outlined the next scene but haven’t had time today to actually write it.
This script is a departure for me –- an action script. Which is probably why it’s exciting.
I’ve sketched out an idea of the arc of the first two acts but I don’t know how it ends. I’m not too worried, though, as even having an idea about two acts is more than I usually plan in advance. I tend to like having the story unfold as I develop the characters. Let them do a little storytelling. They usually do alright
Well, back to work -– prepping for a pitch meeting at a cable channel next Wednesday and we gotta have our shit together. Gotta get some more series signed, to keep the workplace going, to get more paychecks, to keep the power on in the house, so I can finish this action script…
Monday, October 01, 2007
Fresh Start
Ohhh, last week was one of those weeks at work, alright.
One of those weeks where everything’s wrong. Where throughout each day, you find yourself asking yourself, “Why am I doing all this again? And for what?” Where the F word is strewn about with wild abandon.
But then Friday afternoon I wrapped up the draft of D Line and sent it off to some trusted readers who’d requested it.
Then a bit later Friday afternoon I resolved most of the stuff that had been driving me ape shit at work.
Friday night the Red Sox took the AL East title.
Saturday morning I went for a good 35-mile bike ride and did a few sprints with a couple guys who are stronger than me so I ended up totally blasted and delighted.
Saturday afternoon I played soccer, baseball and just-play-with-a-ball with my son in a sunny field until we were both giddy.
Saturday night my wife and I took turns staying up literally all night with the baby whose tummy was in turmoil (which was exhausting but actually makes you love the little critters even more and so in a way made me happy).
Sunday afternoon we picked out pumpkins and other fall plants and the boy and I did some gardening until dinner.
And this morning I brought with me to work the pages of notes I have for the next script, which I’m going to start today during lunch.
That's right kids. A new script. Something I haven't faced in a long time.
But after this weekend, I'm a new man.
And so, now, this week, it’s gonna be one of those weeks.
One of those weeks where everything works out right.
One of those weeks where everything’s wrong. Where throughout each day, you find yourself asking yourself, “Why am I doing all this again? And for what?” Where the F word is strewn about with wild abandon.
But then Friday afternoon I wrapped up the draft of D Line and sent it off to some trusted readers who’d requested it.
Then a bit later Friday afternoon I resolved most of the stuff that had been driving me ape shit at work.
Friday night the Red Sox took the AL East title.
Saturday morning I went for a good 35-mile bike ride and did a few sprints with a couple guys who are stronger than me so I ended up totally blasted and delighted.
Saturday afternoon I played soccer, baseball and just-play-with-a-ball with my son in a sunny field until we were both giddy.
Saturday night my wife and I took turns staying up literally all night with the baby whose tummy was in turmoil (which was exhausting but actually makes you love the little critters even more and so in a way made me happy).
Sunday afternoon we picked out pumpkins and other fall plants and the boy and I did some gardening until dinner.
And this morning I brought with me to work the pages of notes I have for the next script, which I’m going to start today during lunch.
That's right kids. A new script. Something I haven't faced in a long time.
But after this weekend, I'm a new man.
And so, now, this week, it’s gonna be one of those weeks.
One of those weeks where everything works out right.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Not Yet
Yesterday was my first daughter’s 19th birthday. Which means she’s now older than I was when she was born.
We’re a lot a like –- just today on the phone we realized we had both found and fell in love with the band Eels recently. And when I asked her yesterday how it felt to be 19, she launched into a hilariously deadpan musing on sudden enlightenment. Sounded exactly like some wiseass thing I’m sure I said to my own father once.
But I was thinking, if she followed in my footsteps too closely, I’d be a grandfather right now.
Wow.
A grandpa with a one-month old baby himself.
Funny world. Glad I’m in it. I love it.
(And glad I'm not a grandpa yet. Please let me get more grey first...)
In terms of writing, I’ve been inspired by Scott the Reader’s write-every-day self challenge. I haven’t done at least an hour a day like he has, but I've done some non-work-related writing four days in a row now. Of course, he’s at like 36 or something…
In terms of other people’s writing, I rewatched part of Rushmore a few days ago. I really love the scene where Blume goes to see Miss Cross at her house and she offers him a carrot. It’s a great scene about the beginning of a love affair. Little is said overtly, but so much comes across in terms of attraction, curiosity, nervousness. Love.
I found the scene online and read it. Not much is given away in action lines, either. A fine example of trusting the reader, the director, the actors to get the scene.
Which I know is a risk.
Because what if they don’t get it?
But then, should they be reading it if they don’t?
Bravo Messrs. Anderson and Wilson.
We’re a lot a like –- just today on the phone we realized we had both found and fell in love with the band Eels recently. And when I asked her yesterday how it felt to be 19, she launched into a hilariously deadpan musing on sudden enlightenment. Sounded exactly like some wiseass thing I’m sure I said to my own father once.
But I was thinking, if she followed in my footsteps too closely, I’d be a grandfather right now.
Wow.
A grandpa with a one-month old baby himself.
Funny world. Glad I’m in it. I love it.
(And glad I'm not a grandpa yet. Please let me get more grey first...)
In terms of writing, I’ve been inspired by Scott the Reader’s write-every-day self challenge. I haven’t done at least an hour a day like he has, but I've done some non-work-related writing four days in a row now. Of course, he’s at like 36 or something…
In terms of other people’s writing, I rewatched part of Rushmore a few days ago. I really love the scene where Blume goes to see Miss Cross at her house and she offers him a carrot. It’s a great scene about the beginning of a love affair. Little is said overtly, but so much comes across in terms of attraction, curiosity, nervousness. Love.
I found the scene online and read it. Not much is given away in action lines, either. A fine example of trusting the reader, the director, the actors to get the scene.
Which I know is a risk.
Because what if they don’t get it?
But then, should they be reading it if they don’t?
Bravo Messrs. Anderson and Wilson.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Clever Little Bastard
Michael Davis was pretty smart in making sure he got the directing gig and not just the script option for his Shoot 'Em Up.
I tried to upload his animations into this blog but it didn't work.
So two things:
1. How do I do that? I hit the ADD VIDEO button, then chose the file and clicked upload, but all it did was put a blank box in the body of the post. Like this:
2. If you're interested, check them out at the Creatve Screenwriting podcast on iTunes. To convince New Line he should direct his own script, he made animated storyboards of some of the action scenes. 17,000 drawings or something. Smart use of his time, I say.
By the way, his interview is interesting, too. After writing 35 screenplays and directing five movies, he almost left the business to be a teacher because he was frustrated he wasn't "making it."
35 screenplays. Five films directed. Worked for years in LA.
Important cautionary tale for us specsters. It's a long and brutal road ahead of us.
First one who makes it, send up a flare.
I tried to upload his animations into this blog but it didn't work.
So two things:
1. How do I do that? I hit the ADD VIDEO button, then chose the file and clicked upload, but all it did was put a blank box in the body of the post. Like this:
2. If you're interested, check them out at the Creatve Screenwriting podcast on iTunes. To convince New Line he should direct his own script, he made animated storyboards of some of the action scenes. 17,000 drawings or something. Smart use of his time, I say.
By the way, his interview is interesting, too. After writing 35 screenplays and directing five movies, he almost left the business to be a teacher because he was frustrated he wasn't "making it."
35 screenplays. Five films directed. Worked for years in LA.
Important cautionary tale for us specsters. It's a long and brutal road ahead of us.
First one who makes it, send up a flare.
Thursday, September 06, 2007
Rubber Duckie, You're The One... (But Do You Sometimes Hate Water?)
I realized this weekend that my wife has made me a little girly.
Which bugged me and my testosterone a little.
But then I thanked her for making me a better writer.
Now, I’ve never been mister macho, grunting my way through conversations unless they’re about sports or porn, slapping waitresses on the ass, wanting to beat up people to amuse my friends. But I am a fairly normal guy.
And recently, I’ve become a little more girly.
To wit:
A) I sometimes like to take a bath instead of a shower. Actually, this is when I realized this whole thing this weekend -– as I was taking a bath. I’ve always been a shower guy. Seems more practical. I always wondered how you can really rinse off when you’re in the bath. But my wife comes from a long line of bath-takers. So I tried it. Now I kinda like baths. Maybe I should try to save manly face by saying it makes me feel like I’m in Unforgiven, soaking my weary bones after riding with the other cowboys all day. Wait, that still sounds girly. How about I feel like I’m in Deadwood. With whores all around. Relaxing after killing a Pinkerton who looked at me sideways. Another whiskey Dan, you cocksucker!
B) I sometimes refer to things as being cute. Been doing that more and more, actually, with the arrival of the baby girl. Who is cute, after all. And all the little clothes and blankets that come with her. Also cute. So far I haven’t pulled out the, “Awwwww” that a lot of women preface “cute” with, but I’m on that road. So don’t be surprised if, when you show me a photo of your new hybrid car, I turn my head to the side, furrow my brow and exclaim, “Awwww, it’s so cuuute!”
Why do I bring this up in a blog about writing?
I’m getting to that.
A couple days ago Bob Edwards interviewed Joyce Johnson, one of Jack Kerouac’s girlfriends, about her new book Minor Characters. (I read her Door Wide Open, which is a collection of letters between the two of them, with commentary by her –- very nice.) Anyway, she read an excerpt about watching Jack watch a cat eat its food. He crouched at a distance, taking in every move of the cat as it ate.
Simple enough -- a lot of people might not have noticed him doing this. But she did -- she knew the importance.
He did this, I’m thinking, because he wanted to be able to write right about cats when it was time to write about cats. Or that cat in particular, maybe. But he was studying it. Carefully. How does a cat eat, really?
So in the bath I was thinking about character. And how, if I wrote me, I might not think to write me taking a bath. Because I’m big man tough growl. But I like a bath now and again.
I think about the characters in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. In The Sopranos. Even in The Last Kiss (one that surprised me).
Those writers made good, solid, consistent characters, like you’re supposed to –- but they made them real by making them realistic. Not too predictable. Varied. Rich. Screwed up.
My guess is those writers have spent a lot of time watching the real characters all around them. And remembering that when they wrote.
It’s a good reminder, as I go through these next revisions on D Line –- to, yes, make the characters distinct from one another and consistent within themselves… but also a little inconsistent.
MLK was a model of love… and had fidelity issues. Johnny Cash was a genius… and an asshole of a drug addict. Hell, I bet George Bush even loves his kids.
No one is always one thing. So let’s not write them so.
Which bugged me and my testosterone a little.
But then I thanked her for making me a better writer.
Now, I’ve never been mister macho, grunting my way through conversations unless they’re about sports or porn, slapping waitresses on the ass, wanting to beat up people to amuse my friends. But I am a fairly normal guy.
And recently, I’ve become a little more girly.
To wit:
A) I sometimes like to take a bath instead of a shower. Actually, this is when I realized this whole thing this weekend -– as I was taking a bath. I’ve always been a shower guy. Seems more practical. I always wondered how you can really rinse off when you’re in the bath. But my wife comes from a long line of bath-takers. So I tried it. Now I kinda like baths. Maybe I should try to save manly face by saying it makes me feel like I’m in Unforgiven, soaking my weary bones after riding with the other cowboys all day. Wait, that still sounds girly. How about I feel like I’m in Deadwood. With whores all around. Relaxing after killing a Pinkerton who looked at me sideways. Another whiskey Dan, you cocksucker!
B) I sometimes refer to things as being cute. Been doing that more and more, actually, with the arrival of the baby girl. Who is cute, after all. And all the little clothes and blankets that come with her. Also cute. So far I haven’t pulled out the, “Awwwww” that a lot of women preface “cute” with, but I’m on that road. So don’t be surprised if, when you show me a photo of your new hybrid car, I turn my head to the side, furrow my brow and exclaim, “Awwww, it’s so cuuute!”
Why do I bring this up in a blog about writing?
I’m getting to that.
A couple days ago Bob Edwards interviewed Joyce Johnson, one of Jack Kerouac’s girlfriends, about her new book Minor Characters. (I read her Door Wide Open, which is a collection of letters between the two of them, with commentary by her –- very nice.) Anyway, she read an excerpt about watching Jack watch a cat eat its food. He crouched at a distance, taking in every move of the cat as it ate.
Simple enough -- a lot of people might not have noticed him doing this. But she did -- she knew the importance.
He did this, I’m thinking, because he wanted to be able to write right about cats when it was time to write about cats. Or that cat in particular, maybe. But he was studying it. Carefully. How does a cat eat, really?
So in the bath I was thinking about character. And how, if I wrote me, I might not think to write me taking a bath. Because I’m big man tough growl. But I like a bath now and again.
I think about the characters in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. In The Sopranos. Even in The Last Kiss (one that surprised me).
Those writers made good, solid, consistent characters, like you’re supposed to –- but they made them real by making them realistic. Not too predictable. Varied. Rich. Screwed up.
My guess is those writers have spent a lot of time watching the real characters all around them. And remembering that when they wrote.
It’s a good reminder, as I go through these next revisions on D Line –- to, yes, make the characters distinct from one another and consistent within themselves… but also a little inconsistent.
MLK was a model of love… and had fidelity issues. Johnny Cash was a genius… and an asshole of a drug addict. Hell, I bet George Bush even loves his kids.
No one is always one thing. So let’s not write them so.
Friday, August 31, 2007
Grrrr. Then, Ahhhh.
Grrrr.
Starting tomorrow, it will be illegal to reincarnate in Tibet without the permission of the Chinese government.
I would be laughing hysterically right now if I weren’t so pissed off.
The superficial silliness of this new law belies more evil intent by the Chinese government. With this law in place, when HH the Dalai Lama dies and reincarnates, the Chinese government will be able to legally imprison the new Dalai Lama –- if he chooses to reincarnate in his homeland.
This way they’ll be able to do what they did with the last Panchen Lama -– whom they kidnapped and imprisoned when he was six years old in 1995. They then of course named their own Panchen Lama. Who, interestingly, seems to be very complimentary about the Chinese government’s handling of Tibet.
Fucking makes me go fucknuts.
Hey Greg, you have some pull over there. Can you talk to these people please?
Okay, let’s end with good stuff. HHDL would like that.
Today is my son’s second birthday and my father’s 69th birthday. We’re gonna have a kickass pizza-and-waterslide party tomorrow. Wanna come?
Recently, as I write, I’ve been mainly listening to two stations on iTunes radio: Ambient Popsicle from Groovera and Secret Agent on SomaFM. Check ‘em out.
But right now I’m listening to Art Pepper’s The Trip record. Great simple-and-beautiful jazz.
Currently reading Right Livelihoods by Rick Moody. Though it sounds Buddhist, it’s not. It’s a collection of three novellas and the first one is fantastic –- quietly funny and loopy about a retired guy who lives on a posh island and believes he’s uncovered an international plot to take over the island… though he’s not about to let that get in the way of his drinking or his dancing with driftwood sticks on the beach. Love it.
(If I were good at making links, I’d do so to make it easier for you to find these things. But I’m not. Sorry.)
Teen daughter comes home tonight. Baby daughter slept curled on my chest like a walnut half for two hours last night.
Feeling better. Ahhhh...
Starting tomorrow, it will be illegal to reincarnate in Tibet without the permission of the Chinese government.
I would be laughing hysterically right now if I weren’t so pissed off.
The superficial silliness of this new law belies more evil intent by the Chinese government. With this law in place, when HH the Dalai Lama dies and reincarnates, the Chinese government will be able to legally imprison the new Dalai Lama –- if he chooses to reincarnate in his homeland.
This way they’ll be able to do what they did with the last Panchen Lama -– whom they kidnapped and imprisoned when he was six years old in 1995. They then of course named their own Panchen Lama. Who, interestingly, seems to be very complimentary about the Chinese government’s handling of Tibet.
Fucking makes me go fucknuts.
Hey Greg, you have some pull over there. Can you talk to these people please?
Okay, let’s end with good stuff. HHDL would like that.
Today is my son’s second birthday and my father’s 69th birthday. We’re gonna have a kickass pizza-and-waterslide party tomorrow. Wanna come?
Recently, as I write, I’ve been mainly listening to two stations on iTunes radio: Ambient Popsicle from Groovera and Secret Agent on SomaFM. Check ‘em out.
But right now I’m listening to Art Pepper’s The Trip record. Great simple-and-beautiful jazz.
Currently reading Right Livelihoods by Rick Moody. Though it sounds Buddhist, it’s not. It’s a collection of three novellas and the first one is fantastic –- quietly funny and loopy about a retired guy who lives on a posh island and believes he’s uncovered an international plot to take over the island… though he’s not about to let that get in the way of his drinking or his dancing with driftwood sticks on the beach. Love it.
(If I were good at making links, I’d do so to make it easier for you to find these things. But I’m not. Sorry.)
Teen daughter comes home tonight. Baby daughter slept curled on my chest like a walnut half for two hours last night.
Feeling better. Ahhhh...
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Thank You, Mr. Booker
This happens just about every time I'm at some gathering where small talk is required.
STRANGER: So what do you do?
ME: In what circumstance?
STRANGER: For a living.
ME: Oh, I'm director of development for an independent television production company.
STRANGER: Cool! So you make TV?
ME: Well, I used to be a producer, so I used to actually make the shows, but now I'm in charge of development.
STRANGER: Cool! How does that work?
ME: I'm sorry, I think my ankles are on fire. Excuse me.
But now, I have a quick and easy summary I can reference to help explain what my professional life is. Thank you, Mr. Charlie Booker, for this helpful primer:
STRANGER: So what do you do?
ME: In what circumstance?
STRANGER: For a living.
ME: Oh, I'm director of development for an independent television production company.
STRANGER: Cool! So you make TV?
ME: Well, I used to be a producer, so I used to actually make the shows, but now I'm in charge of development.
STRANGER: Cool! How does that work?
ME: I'm sorry, I think my ankles are on fire. Excuse me.
But now, I have a quick and easy summary I can reference to help explain what my professional life is. Thank you, Mr. Charlie Booker, for this helpful primer:
Monday, August 27, 2007
No Lifeguard On Duty
I dove into D Line revisions on Saturday night.
Into the shallow end.
Ouch.
I started at 9. The boy was asleep, the girl was nestled with Mom and Nana as they watched Take The Lead.
It was a perfect set up for me. I had the notes of some trusted readers. I had my own notes as to what I wanted to do, having gone through the entire script several times. I had free time. I had Charles Lloyd’s Hyperion With Higgins playing. It was quiet. Dark.
I started nodding off at the keyboard around 9:30.
Bonk.
Ouch.
Thankfully my son is a wunderkind and pulled me out (though I outweigh him by 165 pounds), performed CPR, expelling all the water from my lungs, and then crawled back into his bed with his stuffed octopus.
But the baby slept pretty well last night, so I’m not particularly exhausted now. Went for a long bike ride yesterday afternoon. That always helps with energy and ideas. Maybe I’ll take the boy out for a run in the jogging stroller after work.
And then… then I dive back in. Trying not to knock myself out this time.
PS: Thanks for all the kind words about the wee one!
PPS: Realized I should do a Dismal update. We have written offers from three distributors/sales agents and a verbal one from a fourth. Once that fourth set of paperwork comes in, we'll go over all of them, hem and haw, decide, question our decision, undecide, argue, have a couple drinks, stare at the wall, then decide and sign. So hopefully in a few weeks I'll be able to announce the distribution deal we went with and you all can start buying multiple copies of this film, or start pestering your local theater owner to run it if the deal includes domestic theatrical...
Thursday, August 23, 2007
She's Here
Born Monday at 11:21am. 7 lbs, 14 oz.
Mainly purple for the first few minutes.
Perfectly healthy and wonderfully beautiful.
‘Scuse me while I kiss the sky.
While Greg’s important post at the Web of Lies a few days ago reminds me how depressing the world can be, this wee lass reminds me how fantastic it can be.
Last post I mourn the loss of a young and gifted artist named Ringo. This one I celebrate the arrival of this lovely girl.
A little yin for your yang, people.
Am I happy, or in misery?
As for writing, just before she was born I finished my first pass at full revision notes on the hard copy of the D Line script. Next up is tracing each character’s arc to look for weaknesses, then making the changes to the script itself.
Last night I was soothing the baby girl at 3am when the toddler boy cried out from his room. Went in to check on him, babe in arms, and found he had terrible diarrhea, spilling out onto his PJs, his mattress.
Purple haze all in my mind, don’t know if it’s day or night.
Gonna be like this for a while.
But I’m gonna do my best to finish up this script soon.
Baby’s doing well. Teenage daughter says she might come home from college for the weekend.
Whatever it is that girl -– by which I think Jimi means “those girls, that boy” -- put a spell on me.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Ringo
Mike Wieringo, one of my roommates my freshman year of college, passed away last Sunday, apparently of a heart attack. He was 44 years old.
Mike was a fantastic guy –- wildly talented with his comic book art, very funny in a dry, self-deprecating way… and the only person I’ve ever known to fall asleep standing up at a party. You should see the praise the people in the comic world are writing about him –- Google him, you’ll see how respected he was.
Toward the end of our year together, I screwed up one night and was an inconsiderate roommate –- loud and stupid. Rightfully, Mike got pissed -– and there was some tension as we parted ways.
Over the years I kept up with his career from afar –- seeing his work in some comics (I’m admittedly not a huge comic fan, but I do maintain a subscription to Iron Man, the comic I loved as a kid) and checking in on his website (www.mikewieringo.com) now and again to see his daily blogs and sketches. I kept telling myself I should write to him, to reconnect, but I never did.
I got back in touch with his brother Matt -– another roommate, and another talented artist and hilarious mofo, with an encyclopedic knowledge of film -– a couple years ago… but never did with Mike.
Wherever he is I hope Mike knows I always thought he was cool as shit and that I’m sorry I was an ass.
Last night, thinking of Mike, I wrote to my high school biology teacher to thank her for being such a great teacher and role model -– someone from whose bag of tricks I stole almost every day I taught. This was something I’ve been meaning to do for years.
Monday, August 13, 2007
Totally Boring
Some preliminary progress in terms of the D Line rewrite. But only a little bit, and in fits and starts. Haven’t been able to devote any real, consistent time to it.
But the nursery’s looking good, and we’re ready for the baby, whenever she decides to join us.
At this stage what I’ve been doing is compiling the notes that I got –- the ones I agree with I mean -– and then going through a hard copy of the script and writing my own notes about what I want to change, add, delete, rework. Sometimes my notes are specific, with the action and dialogue I want, and sometimes they’re fairly vague placeholder stuff like “Add scene where Michael fails to help Moses.” And sometimes it’s a mix.
But so far, I haven’t come upon any insurmountable problems, so that feels good.
I need to finish that step, and then I want to go through each of the major characters’ story arcs, tracking just their scenes, to make sure they’re all sound, noting on the hard copy wherever there are problems. Then I’ll dive in and actually make all the changes.
And, judging how things normally go with a newborn, that’ll probably be Fall of ’08.
But I did finally read and write notes on Ryan’s comedy script -– though I still owe Jeff the same on his horror/thriller. Sorry Jeff.
By the way, Ryan had a script he wrote for a short optioned, so that’s very cool. It’s always nice to have validation, so I bet he’s psyched –- even though he’s playing so cool he’s not even blogging about it.
I've been cheating a little. I told myself to focus just on the D Line rewrite, to get through it so I can move on, but I keep finding myself jotting down setups and dialogue for this action-suspense thing I've had in my head for a few months...
Toldja. Totally boring post. But hey, I posted.
But the nursery’s looking good, and we’re ready for the baby, whenever she decides to join us.
At this stage what I’ve been doing is compiling the notes that I got –- the ones I agree with I mean -– and then going through a hard copy of the script and writing my own notes about what I want to change, add, delete, rework. Sometimes my notes are specific, with the action and dialogue I want, and sometimes they’re fairly vague placeholder stuff like “Add scene where Michael fails to help Moses.” And sometimes it’s a mix.
But so far, I haven’t come upon any insurmountable problems, so that feels good.
I need to finish that step, and then I want to go through each of the major characters’ story arcs, tracking just their scenes, to make sure they’re all sound, noting on the hard copy wherever there are problems. Then I’ll dive in and actually make all the changes.
And, judging how things normally go with a newborn, that’ll probably be Fall of ’08.
But I did finally read and write notes on Ryan’s comedy script -– though I still owe Jeff the same on his horror/thriller. Sorry Jeff.
By the way, Ryan had a script he wrote for a short optioned, so that’s very cool. It’s always nice to have validation, so I bet he’s psyched –- even though he’s playing so cool he’s not even blogging about it.
I've been cheating a little. I told myself to focus just on the D Line rewrite, to get through it so I can move on, but I keep finding myself jotting down setups and dialogue for this action-suspense thing I've had in my head for a few months...
Toldja. Totally boring post. But hey, I posted.
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
Tagalicious
Got tagged by Greg. Wrote a song about it, like to hear it, here it go:
1. My first year trying to be a writer I made about $14,000. And a good chunk of that was for the part-time work I did at a preschool program at a rec center. It’s a tough business, writing. That year, my daughter and I didn’t have enough money to buy good ornaments for the Christmas tree (we lost a box of them, I think in a move, and had to replace them) so we made them. Out of things like milk jugs, toilet paper rolls and Star Wars figures. Those are still my favorite Christmas tree ornaments.
2. This is my dream possession:
Everyone knows that when you have kids you don’t have much money, space or time to buy a lot of things for yourself. This actually works out okay for me, because I’m not that into things. Thankfully, my wife is not shy about telling me when it’s time to buy a new pair of Levis. But this bike, man I’m aching to buy it. Tricked out, it’s only about six grand. That’s not so much, right? Right?
3. I can sleep pretty much anywhere at any time. If I’m tired and there’s nothing else I need to do and nothing else stopping me, I can take a nap anywhere.
4. I have a little bit of an OCD thing in that if I have to mail a bunch of letters, I’ll count them a few times in between putting on the stamps and putting them in the mailbox. This has become much less of an issue in the age of online banking. So thanks, Bank of America. Oh, also, I often do a countdown from 10 when doing a task with a definite ending –- like filling a glass with water –- pacing it so I start with 10 and hit 1 at the end. It’s kinda like I find the 10-beat rhythm of it. Weird, right? I don’t get it myself. I bet only my brother thinks it's cool, but he's a drummer and loves anything about rhythm.
5. Sometimes I think about becoming a physicist or a biologist – can’t decide which.
6. I think it’s shameful that I'm not bilingual. I mean, I can get by in rudimentary French, and I muscled through trips to Mexico, Guatemala and Costa Rica, but it’s terrible how monolingual I am. Arrogant American bastard. I so want and need to learn Spanish. Gotta get on that.
7. I am absolutely and utterly bewildered by this Bush-Cheney administration.
8. I donate to charity often, as requests come up, but for 15 years I’ve also been sending monthly donations to these people: http://www.splcenter.org/. My wife is friends with some of these people: http://www.mvpsacramento.com/ and now we also give monthly donations to them. But still, I don’t do enough for the world. There are so many people out there who have it off so much worse than me -– so much that we’re not even in the same game. I know this, so why don’t I do more? Actually, I should get on that before I go learn Spanish.
9. My junior year of high school, I got third place in the two-mile at the state champion track and field meet. Hey, you take your glory where you can find it. I was determined to win the next year, but then I blew my knee out training for cross country my senior year and so did not compete in track that year. Or ever again. So much for glory. Now I think back to when I could run two miles in less than 10 minutes and I weep. Openly.
10. I am neither smarter than, nor a better writer than, our friend Greg at the Web of Lies and Deceit. (See his tag post.)
Now, in terms of tagging others, I’ll just do Jeff of Gimpdom 149. He's new to the fold and we'll welcome him this way (plus I think most of the others have already been tagged…).
1. My first year trying to be a writer I made about $14,000. And a good chunk of that was for the part-time work I did at a preschool program at a rec center. It’s a tough business, writing. That year, my daughter and I didn’t have enough money to buy good ornaments for the Christmas tree (we lost a box of them, I think in a move, and had to replace them) so we made them. Out of things like milk jugs, toilet paper rolls and Star Wars figures. Those are still my favorite Christmas tree ornaments.
2. This is my dream possession:
Everyone knows that when you have kids you don’t have much money, space or time to buy a lot of things for yourself. This actually works out okay for me, because I’m not that into things. Thankfully, my wife is not shy about telling me when it’s time to buy a new pair of Levis. But this bike, man I’m aching to buy it. Tricked out, it’s only about six grand. That’s not so much, right? Right?
3. I can sleep pretty much anywhere at any time. If I’m tired and there’s nothing else I need to do and nothing else stopping me, I can take a nap anywhere.
4. I have a little bit of an OCD thing in that if I have to mail a bunch of letters, I’ll count them a few times in between putting on the stamps and putting them in the mailbox. This has become much less of an issue in the age of online banking. So thanks, Bank of America. Oh, also, I often do a countdown from 10 when doing a task with a definite ending –- like filling a glass with water –- pacing it so I start with 10 and hit 1 at the end. It’s kinda like I find the 10-beat rhythm of it. Weird, right? I don’t get it myself. I bet only my brother thinks it's cool, but he's a drummer and loves anything about rhythm.
5. Sometimes I think about becoming a physicist or a biologist – can’t decide which.
6. I think it’s shameful that I'm not bilingual. I mean, I can get by in rudimentary French, and I muscled through trips to Mexico, Guatemala and Costa Rica, but it’s terrible how monolingual I am. Arrogant American bastard. I so want and need to learn Spanish. Gotta get on that.
7. I am absolutely and utterly bewildered by this Bush-Cheney administration.
8. I donate to charity often, as requests come up, but for 15 years I’ve also been sending monthly donations to these people: http://www.splcenter.org/. My wife is friends with some of these people: http://www.mvpsacramento.com/ and now we also give monthly donations to them. But still, I don’t do enough for the world. There are so many people out there who have it off so much worse than me -– so much that we’re not even in the same game. I know this, so why don’t I do more? Actually, I should get on that before I go learn Spanish.
9. My junior year of high school, I got third place in the two-mile at the state champion track and field meet. Hey, you take your glory where you can find it. I was determined to win the next year, but then I blew my knee out training for cross country my senior year and so did not compete in track that year. Or ever again. So much for glory. Now I think back to when I could run two miles in less than 10 minutes and I weep. Openly.
10. I am neither smarter than, nor a better writer than, our friend Greg at the Web of Lies and Deceit. (See his tag post.)
Now, in terms of tagging others, I’ll just do Jeff of Gimpdom 149. He's new to the fold and we'll welcome him this way (plus I think most of the others have already been tagged…).
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
Inspiracion Mexicana
Yesterday at lunch I listened to the Creative Screenwriting podcast of their interview and Q&A with Guillermo Arriaga.
I really love his movies, or the ones I’ve seen at least: Amores Perros, 21 Grams, The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada, Babel. All very complex, very smart, very stylish. I love the way he leaves a lot for the viewer to do, not answering every question, how he interweaves storylines so powerfully, how the characters in his films are fantastically fucked up and authentic.
A few times I’ve been a little confused by some of the connections between his multiple plotlines. Like Chieko, the Japanese girl in Babel. She was absolutely brilliant -– both as a written character and as played by Rinko Kikuchi –- but the connection to the other stories felt a bit forced. Her father gave the Moroccan guy the gun? A little too tangential, compared to the rest?
(Of course, who am I to judge, right? At lease Arriaga has some freaking movies in the theaters…)
But anyway, he’s one of my favorite screenwriters so I was glad to listen to him talk -– he spoke mainly about Babel, but also about his process in general. And to tell you the truth, it sounded a lot like my process. And he's so honest and unapologetic.
In fact, he was downright inspirational.
I decided that I’d go home and plow right into D Line, feeling validated that the way I write, and the type of stories I create, might just work. Especially this script.
I was so pumped up that after I finished dinner, gave the boy a bath and tucked him in bed…
…I put together a bookcase for the boy's room and worked with my wife getting the nursery ready for the baby.
Sorry Guillermo, mi companero, I failed you.
But tonight! Tonight I write!
Right?
(And I'm a jerk, Ryan and Jeff, for not having gotten to your scripts yet. But tonight! Tonight I read! Maybe?)
I really love his movies, or the ones I’ve seen at least: Amores Perros, 21 Grams, The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada, Babel. All very complex, very smart, very stylish. I love the way he leaves a lot for the viewer to do, not answering every question, how he interweaves storylines so powerfully, how the characters in his films are fantastically fucked up and authentic.
A few times I’ve been a little confused by some of the connections between his multiple plotlines. Like Chieko, the Japanese girl in Babel. She was absolutely brilliant -– both as a written character and as played by Rinko Kikuchi –- but the connection to the other stories felt a bit forced. Her father gave the Moroccan guy the gun? A little too tangential, compared to the rest?
(Of course, who am I to judge, right? At lease Arriaga has some freaking movies in the theaters…)
But anyway, he’s one of my favorite screenwriters so I was glad to listen to him talk -– he spoke mainly about Babel, but also about his process in general. And to tell you the truth, it sounded a lot like my process. And he's so honest and unapologetic.
In fact, he was downright inspirational.
I decided that I’d go home and plow right into D Line, feeling validated that the way I write, and the type of stories I create, might just work. Especially this script.
I was so pumped up that after I finished dinner, gave the boy a bath and tucked him in bed…
…I put together a bookcase for the boy's room and worked with my wife getting the nursery ready for the baby.
Sorry Guillermo, mi companero, I failed you.
But tonight! Tonight I write!
Right?
(And I'm a jerk, Ryan and Jeff, for not having gotten to your scripts yet. But tonight! Tonight I read! Maybe?)
Thursday, July 05, 2007
Confessions
I’ve been a bad writer.
I got helpful notes on D Line and have done zero revisions.
I promised Ryan I’d give him notes on his rom com. Haven’t read it.
Another friend just gave me a script to give notes on. Haven’t even looked at it.
I have four very loose outlines for the next script and I keep waffling as to which one I should jump on first.
I used hung instead of hanged when writing about a death by hanging. (Sorry Emily and any other English teachers out there.)
Please forgive me.
What I need is focus.
You want focus?
Here's focus:
Did you watch this in 2003? One of my favorite moments in cycling. Flying down a mountain, Beloki falls when his tire ruptures, Armstrong avoids him by turning off the road -- and has the presence of mind to keep going through the field, on those wee tires, at that speed... then sees the ditch by the road in time to stop, hop off and carry his bike across... then gets back on -- without causing another crash -- and keeps going to finish the stage.
Now that's focus.
I got helpful notes on D Line and have done zero revisions.
I promised Ryan I’d give him notes on his rom com. Haven’t read it.
Another friend just gave me a script to give notes on. Haven’t even looked at it.
I have four very loose outlines for the next script and I keep waffling as to which one I should jump on first.
I used hung instead of hanged when writing about a death by hanging. (Sorry Emily and any other English teachers out there.)
Please forgive me.
What I need is focus.
You want focus?
Here's focus:
Did you watch this in 2003? One of my favorite moments in cycling. Flying down a mountain, Beloki falls when his tire ruptures, Armstrong avoids him by turning off the road -- and has the presence of mind to keep going through the field, on those wee tires, at that speed... then sees the ditch by the road in time to stop, hop off and carry his bike across... then gets back on -- without causing another crash -- and keeps going to finish the stage.
Now that's focus.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Time To Write
By now I’ve gotten a few sets of notes on D Line and, accordingly, I’ve decided to quit writing forever.
Kidding.
Not all the notes intersect or overlap, but there are a few key areas that everyone seems to agree on. This is good, since they are mainly the things I was having doubts about.
And so far, no one has told me to quit writing forever.
Addressing most of the notes shouldn’t be too difficult -– though finding the time to really focus on and address the notes continues to be a problem. You see all these movies about writers who are blocked and how hard that is -– they spend hours staring at their Underwoods of MacBooks, smoking cigarettes and watching the wind move the leaves in the trees outside the window, waiting, waiting, waiting for inspiration to kick in so they can create.
What a great problem to have: all the time in the world to write, but no ideas.
(Though I’ll pass on the cigarettes. Substitute coffee or something. Or sometimes, a good cigar.)
Anyway, you call that angst? Are you kidding me?
Try getting up at 5:45am, less than six hours after you went to bed, because the wee boy is screaming ‘cause his left eye is crusted shut and that’s just pissing him off to no end. Go to work, not realizing you still have chunks of pineapple on your shoulder, where the lad threw them while you were distracted assuring the wife she’s still beautiful, and even more so, at eight months pregnant. Spend a few hours in meetings discussing the four or five projects that need your attention immediately, then break speed limits to get to a lunch with the guys who want to make more movies, but dammit get back in an hour because those projects at work aren’t gonna develop themselves. As you drive home that night, listen to Miles Davis, because it helps, and try to spend the 20 minutes in the car brainstorming how you’re gonna fix those script problems. But then forget those brainstormed solutions because it’s dinnertime with the family -– chat with the wife, riff on Star Wars quotes with the teen, bathe the toddler. When 10pm rolls around and everyone else is in bed (wife and son) or out with friends (daughter), sit down to write.
And then get some good work done before you pass out.
I think most of the people who read this feel me -- we're all working other jobs while we try to hone our skills and bang out some good scripts. So yea for us!
I’m gonna push on through the D Line revisions, because I’m itching to start on a new script.
Oh, I have ideas all right. Just give me the time.
Kidding.
Not all the notes intersect or overlap, but there are a few key areas that everyone seems to agree on. This is good, since they are mainly the things I was having doubts about.
And so far, no one has told me to quit writing forever.
Addressing most of the notes shouldn’t be too difficult -– though finding the time to really focus on and address the notes continues to be a problem. You see all these movies about writers who are blocked and how hard that is -– they spend hours staring at their Underwoods of MacBooks, smoking cigarettes and watching the wind move the leaves in the trees outside the window, waiting, waiting, waiting for inspiration to kick in so they can create.
What a great problem to have: all the time in the world to write, but no ideas.
(Though I’ll pass on the cigarettes. Substitute coffee or something. Or sometimes, a good cigar.)
Anyway, you call that angst? Are you kidding me?
Try getting up at 5:45am, less than six hours after you went to bed, because the wee boy is screaming ‘cause his left eye is crusted shut and that’s just pissing him off to no end. Go to work, not realizing you still have chunks of pineapple on your shoulder, where the lad threw them while you were distracted assuring the wife she’s still beautiful, and even more so, at eight months pregnant. Spend a few hours in meetings discussing the four or five projects that need your attention immediately, then break speed limits to get to a lunch with the guys who want to make more movies, but dammit get back in an hour because those projects at work aren’t gonna develop themselves. As you drive home that night, listen to Miles Davis, because it helps, and try to spend the 20 minutes in the car brainstorming how you’re gonna fix those script problems. But then forget those brainstormed solutions because it’s dinnertime with the family -– chat with the wife, riff on Star Wars quotes with the teen, bathe the toddler. When 10pm rolls around and everyone else is in bed (wife and son) or out with friends (daughter), sit down to write.
And then get some good work done before you pass out.
I think most of the people who read this feel me -- we're all working other jobs while we try to hone our skills and bang out some good scripts. So yea for us!
I’m gonna push on through the D Line revisions, because I’m itching to start on a new script.
Oh, I have ideas all right. Just give me the time.
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