I’m almost finished with my Rubik’s Screenplay. Scenes and dialogue have been extracted, relocated, and retrofitted from beginning to end. I’ve been able to work straight through the construction noise outside as well as through the agonizing nerve pain running rampant in my right shoulder blade from improper “laptop to arm height positioning.” I can’t dream of moving my arms freely and hour by hour I’m losing the ability to turn my head, but rest assured, I am able to type with a pencil that is wedged under my watch with one of the kittens supplying leverage. (Though I am allergic to cats… so it is not an altogether ideal situation.)
The deadline is coming down to the wire, and I am just finalizing the new scenes and proofreading. As usual, my main problem is that I keep reading and rereading (my eyes are the only moving parts at this point) and continue to make minor fine tunes beyond reason. So, in an effort to curb my microfocusing, I have trained the kittens to attack me if I hyperedit. I highly recommend it to those other obsessive-compulsive writers out there. It does keep one on her toes.
I am eager to get through the proofreading stage as the painstaking check of spelling, grammar, fact, and details is such a critical element. (Unfortunately, I have looked at my screenplay so much that I can’t make sense of it anymore and I am inclined to believe that I have accidentally written it in Bahasa Indonesia [with a Javanese dialect].) As far as I’m concerned, without dogged attention a work can be completely destroyed with inferior proofreading. Granted, this is not brain surgery (a topic of which I am reasonably familiar), but it reminds me of a proofreading story. I’ll share it with you now (partly because I want to share it with you and partly because I’m killing time until the kittens unhinge their fangs… oh, if I had a dime every time I said that!).
A designer I knew was creating a poster for a world-famous violinist who was coming to Philadelphia for a symphony recital. (I can’t remember the long-hair’s name, so we’ll call him Frasier Crane.) My friend spent a great deal of time designing and proofing the poster, which simply declared, “Frasier Crane will be performing a recital.” The designer also art directed the photography of Crane, who rested his violin on his shoulder and held his bow poker straight in front of his widely-grinning face. She was thrilled with the final poster when it had arrived from the printer and was overjoyed when the violinist himself called to congratulate her.
“Have you looked at the poster?” Crane asked.
“Yes, I did… it looks great!”
“Look again.” He urged.
That’s when her eyes fully focused. And there, just under his wide grin and menacingly long bow it read, “Frasier Crane will be performing a rectal.”
Friday, December 4, 2009
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Wordy Shell Game
Having a great time here in Rewrite. I’m luxuriating in the process of cutting out pages and pages of material and shifting things from one act to another. Unfortunately, there’s a point where it becomes a wordy shell game and if I don’t maintain precise concentration what started out as a light romantic comedy might accidentally reshift to become a snuff film. Or worse, if I’m not careful I could wind up with another Prairie Home Companion.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
LaLaLaLa Late Bar
Last week I completed my first draft and managed to smooth out the chunky bits that were clogging the rest of the story. I am much, much happier with it as I embark on the first round of rewrites. (And in the immortal words of Bill Clinton, “It’s hard not to be happy after smoothing out chunky bits.”)
As I work I must be careful not to fall into the trap of futzing + tweaking at every detail – which has been a dangerous thing, not to mention Futzing and Tweaking was the name of my band in High School. I found myself staring at the pages, re- and re-re reading each line. After a while nothing made sense and I had to find solace in Alabama Slammas and Mr. Pimm’s. I am just now recovering from my weekend bender to crack my knuckles over the laptop and hit the keys like Mozart (Rudy Mozart… he was keyboardist in our band and boy, he could wail out some Duran Duran covers like nobody’s business.)
As I work I must be careful not to fall into the trap of futzing + tweaking at every detail – which has been a dangerous thing, not to mention Futzing and Tweaking was the name of my band in High School. I found myself staring at the pages, re- and re-re reading each line. After a while nothing made sense and I had to find solace in Alabama Slammas and Mr. Pimm’s. I am just now recovering from my weekend bender to crack my knuckles over the laptop and hit the keys like Mozart (Rudy Mozart… he was keyboardist in our band and boy, he could wail out some Duran Duran covers like nobody’s business.)
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Heaving Animal Bladder
I set off to work on my script early this morning and just as soon as I finish clearing out my working space, completing client deadlines, writing lectures, paying bills, calling about billing errors, looking for missing insurance cards, emailing for work, submitting competition entries, blah, blah, and oh that’s right… blah, I’ll get to my writing. Morning has crept into night now and stopping the day-to-day stuff to be able to write is beginning to feel like a hopeless scheduling conflict. It’s not like I’m blowing off my 9 to 5 to drop out with my French valet in a Hong Kong opium den or sneaking off for a few rounds of wii (though I could happily spend hours fine-tuning my wii me character, but that aside). Writing feels like the dessert that I only get to enjoy after I’ve forced down the rancid fly-infested slop served to me by the unyielding lunch ladies I call the “to do list.”
I have to tell you that during today’s excruciating battle with life’s minutiae, a magical thing happened. The kid across the street suddenly began practicing his bagpipes and segued seamlessly from the Bonnie Hoose O’Airlie (or another tune equally funny in title) right into the theme to Star Wars. Yes! That Star Wars! Now… there ain’t nothing in my book quite like a heaving animal bladder bursting forth with an uplifting and jaunty tune from my childhood.
I have to tell you that during today’s excruciating battle with life’s minutiae, a magical thing happened. The kid across the street suddenly began practicing his bagpipes and segued seamlessly from the Bonnie Hoose O’Airlie (or another tune equally funny in title) right into the theme to Star Wars. Yes! That Star Wars! Now… there ain’t nothing in my book quite like a heaving animal bladder bursting forth with an uplifting and jaunty tune from my childhood.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Helpful Pointers for Other Aspiring Writers
I’ve gotten to a point in my script where I eagerly look forward to getting back to it and writing. It’s a happy place where details form effortlessly, scenes make sense to me, and medication has no side effects. I think about my screenplay as I work, run errands, commute, announce tractor pulls, ice fish, and appear in court. I’m sure to carry a notebook with me everywhere. If I don’t have a notebook I’ll use any smooth surface within the extension of my arm, which brings me to my first point:
A stranger’s sleeve is a poor choice to write notes on. Aside from the possibility of the person frowning on your creative endeavor, he or she may be difficult to locate later if a proper contact address is not provided. And so there goes a great plot point for your story as it hops a train to Long Island and out of your life forever. Which then lends itself to this point (more handy advice than a point): Be sure to ask the proper protocol for scribbling notes while in the back of a paddy wagon… I found out the hard way.
Ideas just naturally flow if you are prepared to write them down. Even little tidbits of inspiration can be rewarding later when jotted down at the moment of inception. It’s writer Anne Lamott’s adage that if you always carry a pen, ideas will come to you. I’ve always said that myself (perhaps too loudly in front of Anne at a potluck, no doubt).
So the point there would be:
Say nothing funny, noteworthy, or remotely interesting around another creative. Or, if you slip out with some witty repartee, be sure to carry forms crediting you for all to sign. And it can’t hurt to always travel with a notary public. (Confession time… who also used to think that archaic phrase was “Note a Republic” when the dreaded repo man came a-callin’?)
Another similar point I certainly must stress is:
Never say anything funny around a crowd of people unless you say it LOUDLY. All too often yours truly has taken the demure approach where, after witnessing some event, I modestly make a witty observation into the ear of a nearby Judas. Time and time again that individual will laugh with me and a split second later will shout my brilliant banter to the room and reap the lion’s share of accolades. They can’t possibly feel good about themselves. I feel sorry for them. I find it common courtesy to just give proper recognition. They must realize the response is not genuine and the laughs are artificial. And stolen. And it must keep them awake at night as much as it does me with the searing pain of anger and the taste of bile that froths to my lips. They know what they’ve done… oh, they know.
Anyhoo… where was I? Right… I have found that if I have my paper and pen and I am open to write an idea or a witty line of dialogue it will channel right through me. It can become almost a stream-of-consciousness experience with magnificent swirls of Dadaist automatic writing. So that winds us down to our last point today.
Be sure to write clearly:
Hard to read scribbles will only complicate things as you try to decipher your inspirational notes. There’s the rumor in the biz that Mommie Dearest’s famous line, “No wire hangers ever” was accidentally scripted as “Now rehang the beaver” when Robert Getchell wrote with a particularly leaky pen. Titanic’s “I’m the king of the world!” might have been “I’m talking in the wind!” “Rosebud” could easily read as “Rosacea,” and a whole different clientele would be lining up to see When Harry Met Satan rather than… well, you know.
A stranger’s sleeve is a poor choice to write notes on. Aside from the possibility of the person frowning on your creative endeavor, he or she may be difficult to locate later if a proper contact address is not provided. And so there goes a great plot point for your story as it hops a train to Long Island and out of your life forever. Which then lends itself to this point (more handy advice than a point): Be sure to ask the proper protocol for scribbling notes while in the back of a paddy wagon… I found out the hard way.
Ideas just naturally flow if you are prepared to write them down. Even little tidbits of inspiration can be rewarding later when jotted down at the moment of inception. It’s writer Anne Lamott’s adage that if you always carry a pen, ideas will come to you. I’ve always said that myself (perhaps too loudly in front of Anne at a potluck, no doubt).
So the point there would be:
Say nothing funny, noteworthy, or remotely interesting around another creative. Or, if you slip out with some witty repartee, be sure to carry forms crediting you for all to sign. And it can’t hurt to always travel with a notary public. (Confession time… who also used to think that archaic phrase was “Note a Republic” when the dreaded repo man came a-callin’?)
Another similar point I certainly must stress is:
Never say anything funny around a crowd of people unless you say it LOUDLY. All too often yours truly has taken the demure approach where, after witnessing some event, I modestly make a witty observation into the ear of a nearby Judas. Time and time again that individual will laugh with me and a split second later will shout my brilliant banter to the room and reap the lion’s share of accolades. They can’t possibly feel good about themselves. I feel sorry for them. I find it common courtesy to just give proper recognition. They must realize the response is not genuine and the laughs are artificial. And stolen. And it must keep them awake at night as much as it does me with the searing pain of anger and the taste of bile that froths to my lips. They know what they’ve done… oh, they know.
Anyhoo… where was I? Right… I have found that if I have my paper and pen and I am open to write an idea or a witty line of dialogue it will channel right through me. It can become almost a stream-of-consciousness experience with magnificent swirls of Dadaist automatic writing. So that winds us down to our last point today.
Be sure to write clearly:
Hard to read scribbles will only complicate things as you try to decipher your inspirational notes. There’s the rumor in the biz that Mommie Dearest’s famous line, “No wire hangers ever” was accidentally scripted as “Now rehang the beaver” when Robert Getchell wrote with a particularly leaky pen. Titanic’s “I’m the king of the world!” might have been “I’m talking in the wind!” “Rosebud” could easily read as “Rosacea,” and a whole different clientele would be lining up to see When Harry Met Satan rather than… well, you know.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Opie Don’t Play That
Over the last few days I have been going over the edits for the first half (plus a few more pages) of my script. I’m just past my midpoint whammy and am closing in on my second – or double – whammy. Now, on the editing side, it simply amazes me that this software seems so accurate and reliable, yet when I am checking over the pages I’ve written they reveal a multitude of errors. I know that this was not the condition I left my project in when I wrapped up, so I can only imagine there's a glitch in the system! Or someone who has access to my laptop is cunningly playing a game with me and if I arrange all of the misspelled words it will reveal a secret message a’ la Da Vinci Code. I can only conclude that Ron Howard has access to my writing and I find that sort of prank unprofessional to say the least.
FYI:
Hey Chickpea Fan Club roll call member badges and super secret glowing decoder rings are back ordered in China. As a reminder, upon receipt of said items, do not lick them, ingest them, or carry them too close to your person. Do not throw or shake or taunt super glowing decoder rings (though that goes without saying).
FYI:
Hey Chickpea Fan Club roll call member badges and super secret glowing decoder rings are back ordered in China. As a reminder, upon receipt of said items, do not lick them, ingest them, or carry them too close to your person. Do not throw or shake or taunt super glowing decoder rings (though that goes without saying).
Bucksflies
I happily spent the other day writing in the Starbucks. Once I had my decoy chai latte light water ½ pump chai, I prepared my writing lair. “Joe” the heavy set literaturazzi slash Bucksfly (as I like to refer to him after seeing him only once) was using the main outlet, but I found an enticing overstuffed chair in the corner with perfect access to the other outlet. (And I have to go back to Joe for a moment, as the staff referred to him as Joe because he must frequent the place and they all know him. But isn’t it an amazing coincidence that a guy named “Joe” would, in fact, frequent a coffee haus? I wonder if any Stanley Mugomud’s or Jorge Java’s drink there, too. But I digress…)
Anyhoo… so there I was…
I have my big chair and a tiny table (the size of a Necco wafer) in front of me. I’m ready to write. I plug in the cord, but just as I am about to put down the laptop I see the sticky crud all over the micro table. Simple wiping won’t clean it so I spread napkins all over to create a safe technology layer. I even ball up wads of napkins to act as feet to the laptop and keep air circulating. Ok, now I wait for the muse of scriptwriting to pull up with her half-double-decaf-halfcaf so we can roll.
Wait. I gotta set my drink down and I have learned the hard way that when liquid spills near a computer it actually multiplies in volume by 600%. It’s the well-documented Exponential Snapple Theory of 1995. Before I can write I need to find a safe haven for my beverage. That’s when I spy the small children’s table and set of three chairs nearby. My logic is that anyone would be crazy to drag a child into a Starbucks, so I snatch one of the little chairs and set it up in my inspiration space. As you might’ve guessed, within seconds a woman walks in with her three toddlers to splurge on double shot mocha espresso juice boxes at seven bucks a pop. I ignore them as they wander near the kiddie table and mutter under my breath,“Find your way back to the half-price Valentine tumblers where you belong, kids.” Aside from Joe and me, the place had been empty. As far as I’m concerned, I’m simply using a 3D child’s chair shaped coaster. Fortunately, the mom takes her kids and leaves. Probably off to a tire showroom or a utilities payment center – somewhere the kids would love to spend the rest of their day.
Back to work. Until the battle of the realtor wannabees invade the table in close proximity (they actually quiz each other on encroachment). But I dig my heels in and write. I ignore the interview between loud talking giggly gals and the “parallel to the floor guy” who splays himself out and dangles his extremities over the backs of chairs. I must applaud the Starbucks lady who breezes past me cleaning and, without missing a beat, handles the drive thru on her Janet Jackson (that’s a headset… if you’re nasty). Starbucks lady chirps loudly, "Hi and welcome to Starbucks. How may Brad and I help you today?” (Though we both know that deadbeat Brad is nowhere in sight.) (pause) “One banana mocha frappe...” (gathers trash off the nearby table) “Would you like a shot of espresso in that today?” (as she plucks napkins from the floor) (pause) “Very good.. we'll have that up for you in a moment.” (she breezes back to the front with the timing and finesse of a Mr. Bob Fosse – sans jazz hands).
But my whole point of sharing this with you is to tell you how much I enjoyed getting out and writing in my lair. (I can’t pretend that I didn’t think of screenwriter Diablo Cody of Juno fame who wrote the story in a Starbucks in Target. But she had an uphill battle there as the distracting “Customer in seasonal… who is responding?” blares over the intercom every thirty three seconds – no thank you!) I admit, I nursed my chai for three hours and no one said a word. Though, in their defense, it’s hard to remove someone who is having a bad case of caffeine shakes.
Anyhoo… so there I was…
I have my big chair and a tiny table (the size of a Necco wafer) in front of me. I’m ready to write. I plug in the cord, but just as I am about to put down the laptop I see the sticky crud all over the micro table. Simple wiping won’t clean it so I spread napkins all over to create a safe technology layer. I even ball up wads of napkins to act as feet to the laptop and keep air circulating. Ok, now I wait for the muse of scriptwriting to pull up with her half-double-decaf-halfcaf so we can roll.
Wait. I gotta set my drink down and I have learned the hard way that when liquid spills near a computer it actually multiplies in volume by 600%. It’s the well-documented Exponential Snapple Theory of 1995. Before I can write I need to find a safe haven for my beverage. That’s when I spy the small children’s table and set of three chairs nearby. My logic is that anyone would be crazy to drag a child into a Starbucks, so I snatch one of the little chairs and set it up in my inspiration space. As you might’ve guessed, within seconds a woman walks in with her three toddlers to splurge on double shot mocha espresso juice boxes at seven bucks a pop. I ignore them as they wander near the kiddie table and mutter under my breath,“Find your way back to the half-price Valentine tumblers where you belong, kids.” Aside from Joe and me, the place had been empty. As far as I’m concerned, I’m simply using a 3D child’s chair shaped coaster. Fortunately, the mom takes her kids and leaves. Probably off to a tire showroom or a utilities payment center – somewhere the kids would love to spend the rest of their day.
Back to work. Until the battle of the realtor wannabees invade the table in close proximity (they actually quiz each other on encroachment). But I dig my heels in and write. I ignore the interview between loud talking giggly gals and the “parallel to the floor guy” who splays himself out and dangles his extremities over the backs of chairs. I must applaud the Starbucks lady who breezes past me cleaning and, without missing a beat, handles the drive thru on her Janet Jackson (that’s a headset… if you’re nasty). Starbucks lady chirps loudly, "Hi and welcome to Starbucks. How may Brad and I help you today?” (Though we both know that deadbeat Brad is nowhere in sight.) (pause) “One banana mocha frappe...” (gathers trash off the nearby table) “Would you like a shot of espresso in that today?” (as she plucks napkins from the floor) (pause) “Very good.. we'll have that up for you in a moment.” (she breezes back to the front with the timing and finesse of a Mr. Bob Fosse – sans jazz hands).
But my whole point of sharing this with you is to tell you how much I enjoyed getting out and writing in my lair. (I can’t pretend that I didn’t think of screenwriter Diablo Cody of Juno fame who wrote the story in a Starbucks in Target. But she had an uphill battle there as the distracting “Customer in seasonal… who is responding?” blares over the intercom every thirty three seconds – no thank you!) I admit, I nursed my chai for three hours and no one said a word. Though, in their defense, it’s hard to remove someone who is having a bad case of caffeine shakes.
“Non…”
Ix-nay on the silent picture idea. Mel Brooks cornered the market on all that. This man, though brilliant, has also limited the playing field for monsters in tuxes, dizzy people, dripping newspapers, and great character names with umlauts. Break of a piece for the little people will ya, Mr. Brooks?
The good news is that they were able to partially reattach my gums after that little shiv incident. I’m thinking of suing the toothbrush manufacturer (as nowhere on the packaging does it warn you to avoid melting it down to accommodate an X-Acto blade).
The good news is that they were able to partially reattach my gums after that little shiv incident. I’m thinking of suing the toothbrush manufacturer (as nowhere on the packaging does it warn you to avoid melting it down to accommodate an X-Acto blade).
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Answers Only Beget More Questions…
I’ve come to the conclusion that I want to be wholly accurate to my time period. Therefore, I am opting to work on this project as a silent film. No high-falutin’ all-talkie like those saps at big picture companies, I’m going for authenticity.
With my writing, I have found that my attention to word usage has cost me a great deal of time. Whenever I think of a word or phrase or invention I want to use, I spend an inordinate amount of time looking up its origins to ensure that it is appropriate both in meaning and in time frame. I’ve been researching one red cent, kit bag, the water cooler, hosiery, Milk of Magnesia, hang gliding (it’s been around longer than one might think), Coney Island, the toaster, marathon dancing, Calvin Coolidge, flash photography, telephones, handsets, and paper cups (to name a few).
During my research I found that in “1919 AT&T conducted more than 4,000 measurements of people's heads to gauge the best dimensions of standard headsets so that callers' lips would be near the microphone when holding handsets up to their ears.” Who knew? And what did the people being measured for this crazy apparatus think about it at the time? Did their grandchildren later brag that, “If it wasn’t for my grandpa’s big melon of a head you wouldn’t be able to use that phone right now.” See? Answers only begat more questions…
Also, word to the wise. Once you dedicate a toothbrush to be used as a shiv DO NOT attempt to brush your teeth with it.
With my writing, I have found that my attention to word usage has cost me a great deal of time. Whenever I think of a word or phrase or invention I want to use, I spend an inordinate amount of time looking up its origins to ensure that it is appropriate both in meaning and in time frame. I’ve been researching one red cent, kit bag, the water cooler, hosiery, Milk of Magnesia, hang gliding (it’s been around longer than one might think), Coney Island, the toaster, marathon dancing, Calvin Coolidge, flash photography, telephones, handsets, and paper cups (to name a few).
During my research I found that in “1919 AT&T conducted more than 4,000 measurements of people's heads to gauge the best dimensions of standard headsets so that callers' lips would be near the microphone when holding handsets up to their ears.” Who knew? And what did the people being measured for this crazy apparatus think about it at the time? Did their grandchildren later brag that, “If it wasn’t for my grandpa’s big melon of a head you wouldn’t be able to use that phone right now.” See? Answers only begat more questions…
Also, word to the wise. Once you dedicate a toothbrush to be used as a shiv DO NOT attempt to brush your teeth with it.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Lake. Big Lake. (Deep Heavy Exasperating Sigh…)
I just learned that writer | director | guru John Hughes has passed away. His work has had such an unbelievable influence on my life. His brilliant turn of phrase and ability to speak for my generation continues to inspire my own writing. I have constantly remarked (especially in the last few years) that we are in desperate need of more John Hughes films. They were fun, unexpected, entertaining, engaging, and layered with well-crafted characters. I think that nearly every phrase from his numerous brat pack films is not only burned into my head, but is peppered in my speech at least once a day. Of course, tomorrow I’ll be sporting my Jake Ryan t-shirt.
Married? Married.
Let's plooow.
You own a church?
He's a yappie.
Off like a dirty shirt.
Blane? His name is Blane? That's not a name, it's a major appliance!
Helen! We have an owl out here in the hall.
Jake. Jaaaaaaake!
What about prom, Blane? WHAT ABOUT PROM?
Things... life... whatnot.
You're just wishful makeupping.
How 'bout a greasy pork chop in served in a dirty ashtray?
That's hot. White hot.
And no, John… those aren’t pillows.
Married? Married.
Let's plooow.
You own a church?
He's a yappie.
Off like a dirty shirt.
Blane? His name is Blane? That's not a name, it's a major appliance!
Helen! We have an owl out here in the hall.
Jake. Jaaaaaaake!
What about prom, Blane? WHAT ABOUT PROM?
Things... life... whatnot.
You're just wishful makeupping.
How 'bout a greasy pork chop in served in a dirty ashtray?
That's hot. White hot.
And no, John… those aren’t pillows.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Barrel of Kittens
Let me begin today’s blog by stating: “I’m happier with my direction.” At first it fought me, but with my extensive background in bare-knuckled fisticuffs, I was easily declared the winner. (And I carry a shiv fashioned from a toothbrush just in case my direction gets out of line again.)
I’ve eased into my selected time period of 1920. Roaring, Golden, or Jazzy, this era gives us a little breathing room from the war with only slight ripples on the water foreshadowing the Depression. Even more important in this era is the use of barrels. Barrels of alcohol being hacked, barrels of merchandise in front of shops, going over Niagara Falls in a barrel, and later, people wearing barrels when the economy takes a downturn (the cartoony kind with long suspenders). To build a more enchanting story I intend to have people drive in barrel cars, dine in fine barrel restaurants, perform in all-barrel bands, and host “dress as your favorite barrel” parties. What a panic!
I could wax poetic all day about the virtues of a well-crafted barrel but it doesn’t hide the fact that starting my second round of my first act has made me a bit squirrely. (If you’ve been ardently reading my blogs – and no doubt you have, as I’ve seen your name appear on the Hey Chickpea Fan Club roll call – you’re well aware that I have started everything over from the beginning.) Giving myself the luxury of rewriting everything seemed great at first, but now it's this horrible luring menace that second guesses everything I’m doing. Hmmm. Don’t like that? Well, you could make the character 60 years older, that’ll be another perspective. Ohhhh, 1920 time frame isn’t working yet? Give the Dark Ages a go! I’m forcing myself to continue to forge ahead, so I can have something to which I can react. And, if it still isn’t working, we lose the humans and make it an all kitten production. Either that or I’m reaching for the shiv…
BTW: Hey Chickpea Fan Club roll call member badges and super secret glowing decoder rings will be mailed out the first week of September. Watch your mailboxes!
I’ve eased into my selected time period of 1920. Roaring, Golden, or Jazzy, this era gives us a little breathing room from the war with only slight ripples on the water foreshadowing the Depression. Even more important in this era is the use of barrels. Barrels of alcohol being hacked, barrels of merchandise in front of shops, going over Niagara Falls in a barrel, and later, people wearing barrels when the economy takes a downturn (the cartoony kind with long suspenders). To build a more enchanting story I intend to have people drive in barrel cars, dine in fine barrel restaurants, perform in all-barrel bands, and host “dress as your favorite barrel” parties. What a panic!
I could wax poetic all day about the virtues of a well-crafted barrel but it doesn’t hide the fact that starting my second round of my first act has made me a bit squirrely. (If you’ve been ardently reading my blogs – and no doubt you have, as I’ve seen your name appear on the Hey Chickpea Fan Club roll call – you’re well aware that I have started everything over from the beginning.) Giving myself the luxury of rewriting everything seemed great at first, but now it's this horrible luring menace that second guesses everything I’m doing. Hmmm. Don’t like that? Well, you could make the character 60 years older, that’ll be another perspective. Ohhhh, 1920 time frame isn’t working yet? Give the Dark Ages a go! I’m forcing myself to continue to forge ahead, so I can have something to which I can react. And, if it still isn’t working, we lose the humans and make it an all kitten production. Either that or I’m reaching for the shiv…
BTW: Hey Chickpea Fan Club roll call member badges and super secret glowing decoder rings will be mailed out the first week of September. Watch your mailboxes!
Treatment Forensics
During my treatment forensics, I actually made use of a book and full card set for writers that, up until now, I have only kept in my office to impress people and appear as a know-it-all.
My tarot-like advice from beyond empowered me with this wisdom:
“Flip It Over: Take something you’ve written, or have been trying to write, and play with its opposite.”
So I switched my main characters around. So far so good.
“Take A Walk: As you walk you can think about a current project…”
I walked then ran a little so the ideas would come faster. I had my iPod on so my scenes were set to music. (I think a well-planned theme song is critical at early writing stages. May I suggest Survivor’s Eye of the Tiger or The Mahna Mahna Song by The Snowths?)
“Change Your Point of View: Anytime you feel stuck try telling the story from another point of view.”
This worked in concert with the flip it over card (which now sounds vulgar but I assure you, is quite the appropriate nomenclature).
“Build a History: You want to know not only the history and habits of your characters, but also the history of the places, ideas, and institutions about which you write.”
That was what I did in my character bios, but not deeply enough (I learned later). In an effort to get into the heads of my characters I have donned a wig and may only be referred to as Harvill. Talk to the walking stick.
My tarot-like advice from beyond empowered me with this wisdom:
“Flip It Over: Take something you’ve written, or have been trying to write, and play with its opposite.”
So I switched my main characters around. So far so good.
“Take A Walk: As you walk you can think about a current project…”
I walked then ran a little so the ideas would come faster. I had my iPod on so my scenes were set to music. (I think a well-planned theme song is critical at early writing stages. May I suggest Survivor’s Eye of the Tiger or The Mahna Mahna Song by The Snowths?)
“Change Your Point of View: Anytime you feel stuck try telling the story from another point of view.”
This worked in concert with the flip it over card (which now sounds vulgar but I assure you, is quite the appropriate nomenclature).
“Build a History: You want to know not only the history and habits of your characters, but also the history of the places, ideas, and institutions about which you write.”
That was what I did in my character bios, but not deeply enough (I learned later). In an effort to get into the heads of my characters I have donned a wig and may only be referred to as Harvill. Talk to the walking stick.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Plot Point Stratego
This (and last) week:
- Completed character bios
- Wrote most of the first act (or so I thought)
I knew something was wrong with what I had written. I felt content about my treatment, but when I began writing it all became mind-numbingly bland. The writing is the fun part so color me surprised when there was no spark. The robotic first act felt so forced that by the time I landed on page 20 I had what I can only describe as 3 pages of solid stuff. (Ooooh - pop the champagne!)
Time to crumble it all up into little tiny bits to sift through and rediscover what is actually working. Instead of band-aiding what I have written so far and forcing it to play nice, I will instead look at everything from a different point-of-view and begin the massive overhaul of every plot point.
It puts me far behind schedule-wise, so I have to work fast. Which shouldn’t be a problem since ultimately my only goal is to produce a script that brings me complete and unparalleled joy and a content peacefulness deep within my soul. The kind of script that, upon completion, I will want to clutch to my chest and spin around barefoot, squealing gleefully as “Lazy Days” blasts from a nearby speaker in the bucolic public garden where I soak up the radiant sun.
And I don’t think anyone would begrudge me that…
- Completed character bios
- Wrote most of the first act (or so I thought)
I knew something was wrong with what I had written. I felt content about my treatment, but when I began writing it all became mind-numbingly bland. The writing is the fun part so color me surprised when there was no spark. The robotic first act felt so forced that by the time I landed on page 20 I had what I can only describe as 3 pages of solid stuff. (Ooooh - pop the champagne!)
Time to crumble it all up into little tiny bits to sift through and rediscover what is actually working. Instead of band-aiding what I have written so far and forcing it to play nice, I will instead look at everything from a different point-of-view and begin the massive overhaul of every plot point.
It puts me far behind schedule-wise, so I have to work fast. Which shouldn’t be a problem since ultimately my only goal is to produce a script that brings me complete and unparalleled joy and a content peacefulness deep within my soul. The kind of script that, upon completion, I will want to clutch to my chest and spin around barefoot, squealing gleefully as “Lazy Days” blasts from a nearby speaker in the bucolic public garden where I soak up the radiant sun.
And I don’t think anyone would begrudge me that…
Matchy Matchy
My big screenplay issue now is that what I've written isn't making me laugh yet. I'm caught up in the older time period with very different characters from my past project (and I'm fairly certain that people were funny in other eras... I've seen O Brother Where Art Thou.) I'm afraid I'm making everyone too matchy matchy with only a modicum of difference in their personalities.
I also need to push more interesting events in the shops. And though Cheers teaches us that humor can be cultivated in a single large room, without the showmanship of Mr. Ted Danson, I’m twisting in the breeze a little here.
I'm at the end of act one now, but my wish list includes:
- Purposeful scenes
- Unexpected | interesting turns
- Genuinely funny dialogue
- An autographed poster of Adam Ant (shoot for the moon)
I also need to push more interesting events in the shops. And though Cheers teaches us that humor can be cultivated in a single large room, without the showmanship of Mr. Ted Danson, I’m twisting in the breeze a little here.
I'm at the end of act one now, but my wish list includes:
- Purposeful scenes
- Unexpected | interesting turns
- Genuinely funny dialogue
- An autographed poster of Adam Ant (shoot for the moon)
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Micro Managed Cluster of Excess Minutiae... n' Stuff
This week:
- Completed fine-tuning my treatment
- Developing character bios
So… it’s sitting there like an elephant in the room and no doubt your eyes dropped down to see that I was developing my character bios LAST week. “Why,” you may ask, “are you still working on them THIS week?” Firstly, I am not a machine. And B. I don’t like your tone (you’re not going to win any friends with that attitude). To be honest, I’ve been immersed in the critical step of getting to know the characters before I turn them loose for general consumption. I need to understand what makes them tick so I can dole out the really good dialogue. And don’t get me started on the naming. But relax, I’ll have it completed shortly (so you can get off your high horse).
Anyhoo, as for the treatment, I kept forgetting that “fine-tuning” isn’t writing all the actual scene details. What should’ve been a swift account of events became a micro managed cluster of excess minutiae. I think we’ve all learned a valuable lesson on the art of script brevity this week.
That being said (and I prefer to move on without belaboring the whole virtue of brevity in writing, except to say it is best to state your point and move on, not to dawdle and become verbose or say the same thing over and over numerous times) I spent a great deal of time researching the era that I’m considering for my screenplay. I’ve narrowed it down to a five-year period in the early 20th century. It’s hard to commit to just one year, what with the lure of the horse and carriage, World War One, prohibition, the founding of Dadaism, and, to cap it all off, a healthy dose of Typhoid Mary. Throw in shark attacks in NJ and I think we’ve got ourselves a picture!
- Completed fine-tuning my treatment
- Developing character bios
So… it’s sitting there like an elephant in the room and no doubt your eyes dropped down to see that I was developing my character bios LAST week. “Why,” you may ask, “are you still working on them THIS week?” Firstly, I am not a machine. And B. I don’t like your tone (you’re not going to win any friends with that attitude). To be honest, I’ve been immersed in the critical step of getting to know the characters before I turn them loose for general consumption. I need to understand what makes them tick so I can dole out the really good dialogue. And don’t get me started on the naming. But relax, I’ll have it completed shortly (so you can get off your high horse).
Anyhoo, as for the treatment, I kept forgetting that “fine-tuning” isn’t writing all the actual scene details. What should’ve been a swift account of events became a micro managed cluster of excess minutiae. I think we’ve all learned a valuable lesson on the art of script brevity this week.
That being said (and I prefer to move on without belaboring the whole virtue of brevity in writing, except to say it is best to state your point and move on, not to dawdle and become verbose or say the same thing over and over numerous times) I spent a great deal of time researching the era that I’m considering for my screenplay. I’ve narrowed it down to a five-year period in the early 20th century. It’s hard to commit to just one year, what with the lure of the horse and carriage, World War One, prohibition, the founding of Dadaism, and, to cap it all off, a healthy dose of Typhoid Mary. Throw in shark attacks in NJ and I think we’ve got ourselves a picture!
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Singed Bangs
So far I have:
- Completed plot points|beat sheet
- Completed 3 Act|Arc chart
- Completed full treatment of scenes w|description of action
- Started my blog for fun and profit
I am currently working on:
- Fine-tuning and checking my treatment
- Developing character bios
I have found it painfully difficult to type up my screenplay and wave a lit sparkler at the same time. Fourth of July has been a challenge to say the least. The option to hold the sparkler between my teeth was even less favorable. [Mental note: Next year, opt for the flame-retardant hairspray.]
- Completed plot points|beat sheet
- Completed 3 Act|Arc chart
- Completed full treatment of scenes w|description of action
- Started my blog for fun and profit
I am currently working on:
- Fine-tuning and checking my treatment
- Developing character bios
I have found it painfully difficult to type up my screenplay and wave a lit sparkler at the same time. Fourth of July has been a challenge to say the least. The option to hold the sparkler between my teeth was even less favorable. [Mental note: Next year, opt for the flame-retardant hairspray.]
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