The Writing Week part 32

It’s amazing how much a group can push an individual to be the best possible. As Onyx mentioned in his latest, good cause for a drink post, we had another meeting last week. He went in thinking things in his script were in order. As did I. As, maybe, did DOA. We all got more than we had expected in the notes department. Due to that, I left the meeting very impressed by the League. While our scripts are all far and above what they would have been after two drafts just a few years ago, we’re still forcing one another onward, not allowing each other to settle for “OK” when our material has the potential to be great.

There we were, expecting probably a much higher ratio of pats on the back and golden stars to wagging fingers of shame (I actually did wag my finger in shame at DOA for something). However, we all were told that: this doesn’t work, why would you do this, this character’s actions don’t make sense, and this needs to be answered. Perhaps I’m being a bit stubborn, but I actually don’t plan on changing too much at this point. Backer and Blades on the Brain raised some important issues – Blades had a few critical things that need clarity. For the most part, though, the points brought up about my script require little more than a tweak here or there. Onyx had a good idea for replacement of a scene, which I’ll do, and there are a few lines that will clarify other important beats greatly. As a whole, though, the script is much farther along than it had been, and I think it’s ready to be shown the light of day.

I’m actually pretty excited. Zombie and I are gearing up to do a big round of query letter (and email) sending. He’s done one burst in the past, but I am new to it. The plan, I believe, is to test the waters with about a dozen (or more) emails to companies that accept queries that way, see what drops, and then do the snail mail round. Frankly, I’m arguing for this because it’s cheaper (i.e. free), and probably no less effective – though it is easier to bury an email, I would think. Though we’re going to query as many people as possible (within reason), I’ll be focusing primarily on people who have done a lot within the action genre, since that’s what I have at the moment. We’ve set a deadline of sending out by September 1st, more so because we’re just so busy and this will help ensure that we do it soon than for any other reason. We’ll let you know how it goes, for sure.

Trailer Trash VI: Return to Horror High (1987)

Special George Clooney edition.

"Stand up, sit down, FRIGHT! FRIGHT! FRIGHT!"



Admit it, you were scared when she turned around, weren't you? And despite the movie being called "Return to..." there was never a first Horror High movie. I will not let you be misled!

At 1:05 - Yes, that schlub opening the door to murderville is a young George Clooney.

A bit of trivia for ya: this poster for Return to Horror High was the first thing I ever purchased on eBay, way back in the 8th grade. What does that say about me?

Weakness Sighted, Commence Destruction

The other day the League had what was probably our most loaded meeting yet. Aside from blog business, we had notes to share on three feature length scripts and one outline. My feel good sports movie was the last order of the night, but apparently it didn’t make my peers feel as good as I had hoped it would. Not that the script got trashed. I think I executed several elements very well, but our meetings tend to focus on what’s not working rather than what is working. In the end that’s the more important route, but a few notes on a what was done right could have lessened the blow of seeing my house of cards topple.

It really is so important to have trusted eyes to put on your work. I think it’s impossible for any writer, no matter how good, to be able to distance his/herself from a script and be able to see all the little or big kinks. You get so absorbed, having the world of your script shrink so tightly around you that your perspective on the greater potential of individual lines, scenes, and acts becomes diminished. You need that person or persons to be able to pull you away from your work to show you what you might not be seeing.

What I ended up seeing was a problem with my protagonist’s motivation. There were other issues, but the rewrite starts with my protagonist, and it wasn’t until earlier today that I realized that most of my rewrites tend to start with issues around my protagonist. At some point during my time at NYU I was asked to consider my weaknesses as a writer. I didn’t devote much thought to it, and I can’t tell you why exactly. I was probably a little naive and didn’t really like the idea of dwelling on my...weaknesses. What a disgusting word. I can however recall several conversations discussing strengths, something much more fun to talk about. But I wonder how many of us in the League have truly sat back and thought long and hard about what our weaknesses might be as writers.

The thought that writing a strong protagonist might be my weakness is terrifying, especially seeing that those guys and gals tend to be pretty damn important in a script. One of my earlier scripts was a secret society drama/thriller. I wrote a few drafts of that script before deeming it unfunctional due to a protagonist that wasn’t making any decisions to drive the story forward. Flash forward, I learn more, become a better writer, and I write a historical romantic dramedy. This would be the first script I ended up executing very well, but in the early drafts my biggest problem was that my protagonist had two central story purposes that were competing with one another and pulling the script in two different directions while trying to move forward. I imagine it to be the script version of siamese twins. Flash forward again, learned more, better writer, wrote a western horror/action. My main problem was that the protagonist is too small when compared to the awesome colorful characters around him. The trend continues in a couple other scripts, so I’m left to conclude that in my early writing career my primary weakness is writing a clean, strong protagonist. Every writer struggles with this to a degree, but it has been the focus of my script notes too many times for me not to consider it the area that I need to strengthen most.

I really was surprised when thinking of how little deep thought I had put into my weaknesses as a writer. If they haven’t done so already, I invite the League to do the same and perhaps share a few words about it. As Lokor would say, write on.

Death Neglected II: Time of Your Life

When most people think about "heaven", clouds, fat lil' cherubs, rivers of honey and fruits (especially grapes, which I hope is seedless), and formless white robes come to mind. Not really the way people want to spend eternity, but I guess if the only alternative is being engulfed in flames while simultaneously stabbed by red-dudes with sharp objects, then, I guess playing a harp ain't so bad. Still, I mean, THAT'S the ultimate prize? The boringer and less painful of the two evils? And really, how is one judged? Does good or evil thoughts count? What if you've done one giant good thing (save bus load of kiddies) but also tons of tiny bad things (say, litter)? Is there some kind of point system, just to be fair?

Japanese film, After Life, (or Wandafuru Raifu, literally, "Wonderful Life") suggest a great solution to these dilemmas. Set in "limbo", the newly deads find that there is no heaven, no hell, just 7 days for you to decide on the best moment in your life where you want to spend eternity. Sounds like a wonderful thing right? Until you start to really think back on your life. How many truly worth while moments have you accumulated? When are the times which you really feel good about yourself? Feel safe, feel happy?

(I can't find a good trailer, so here's a little poster)

This quiet and thoughtful movie not only focus on a group of newly deads' search for a single, defining moment, but also on the "limbo staff", who are there because they themselves were never able to pick a memory. The film covers a variety of people: a teenage girl who wants to pick a shallow, happy moment, an average joe who upon watching hours after hours of his mundane life still can't find anything, a punk rebel who refuses to make a decision, a quiet old woman who seems content picking leaves and flowers rather than choosing...et al. Director Hirokazu Kore-Eda interviewed over 500 people to create this wonderful documentary/ fiction style film. Thankfully, you can buy this film on Amazon rather than struggle with china town bootlegs. You can even Netflix it! Look how far we've come!

While the rules of afterlife in this film is quite different from the typical Christian thought of heaven and hell, if Wandafuru Raifu's rules WERE the standard belief, and people work more toward making their lives more "meaningful" rather than "good", perhaps the world would be a better place. Afterall, if you're told that your life is your heaven, maybe people would try to be a little less afraid, and a little happier.

The Writing Week part 31

It’s odd; the things that can change from week to week. Last week, I wrapped up by saying that I was having major doubts about the direction of my re-write. Almost as soon as I hit “publish,” though, I flip-flopped. I finished reading the dreaded second act, slept on it, and woke up thinking to myself that it wasn’t nearly as bad as I had imagined.

Then, I went out of town for the weekend. No writing or further re-reading was done. That didn’t stop me from doing plenty of talking about it with Onyx, though, as we rode the bus back from Washington, DC. I was happy to hear that he (and Zombie later agreed) felt as though the major problems with Act Two were largely solved. He had many small sized notes, and a few medium ones, which I’ll get at our next meeting on Wednesday. For the most part, though, he said things read well and were much smoother. Zombie agreed that it read much better – and I’m sure that being seven pages shorter didn’t hurt none.

A while ago, a former board member of the company I work for, and a man who happens to be a TV writer, mentioned that he would be happy to read “any piece [I] feel represents [my] best work.” At first, my instinct was to send something right away, so as to not lose the opportunity. When I thanked him for the generous offer, he reminded me that the reading could wait – he wanted what represented my best efforts. For the longest time, I was sure that singled out my comic book style spec script; it had been my thesis project, I’d worked on it the longest, and I submitted it to competitions (post to come soon about those). Today, I asked Onyx and Zombie what they thought; both said that the post-Apocalyptic spec I’m working on now represents my strongest material. In a way, that does not surprise me. I still need to hear it from the other Leaguers on Wednesday, but I am certain that the action is clearer, the story less complicated, and the production more manageable than the comic book spec. I’d still love to see that made – Hell, I’m already toying with the sequel. Their affirmation of the post-Apocalyptic spec as representing my best work, however, reaffirms something else, something all young writers should experience and success – the growth (in ability, in maturity, in style) that comes with practice.

Trailer Trash V: Viking Women and the Sea Serpent (1957)

The title alone gives you the clue that this will be one of those cheesecake movies teenage males would go see before Hollywood could openly advertise that a movie had no other purpose than gratuitous cleavage shots.



The trailer is rife with sexual innuendo (the description of how gi-normous the sea serpent is enough to elicit a few immature giggles), but it features probably one of my favorite narrator lines. At about 42 seconds in:

"Turning them over to men who take pursuit in violent pleasures, pleasures that must end in the the thrust of a spear into warm flesh."

Whoa. How did THAT line ever get past censors? Is it even possible for them to not mean what I think they mean?

The Collaboration: Mexican Writing Standoff

A little while back Cake Man, Zombie, and I decided that we wanted to come together and collaborate on an idea. There are a lot of successful writing partnerships out there, and for me personally, the ability to work well with other writers is something I very much want to develop. You have to start somewhere, so what better place than a bar?

Sixty beers later I think we were all agreeing for the tenth time that we’d like to write something together. Eventually we decided to start a collaboration thread on gmail. I found this very helpful and if our collaboration trio continues down the road, I imagine that the gmail thread will be a mainstay. It’s just good to be able to click over to a record of all your ideas and see some of their little evolutions or de-evolutions, see what’s hitting chords and what isn’t. The thread also keeps things organized and it’s easily accessible for everyone involved. Flash forward another sixty beers.

We’re in a bar again, sober. We’re all supposed to have brought a page with a logline for each of our 14 possible collaboration ideas. Zombie didn’t bring his, I left mine on my printer, but thankfully Cake Man remembered. Good thing too, because that was a great meeting that probably wouldn’t have happened without the sheet. Anyway, with the ideas in front of us we talked it through, basically testing their potential as movie ideas as well as collaborative pieces. We narrowed the 14 ideas down to 3. It just so happened that we were left with an idea from each of us: my Historical Dark Comedy, Zombie’s Historical Horror/Suspense, and Cake Man’s Comedy. Thus began the Mexican writing standoff. Cue Ennio Morricone music.

We finally had our nominees. Two had to die (for now); only one would prevail. We were all open to each, but I was definitely standing by mine, and Cake Man was standing by his. I had thought that Zombie would be standing by his, making the elimination as interesting as the finale in The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly. But it turns out that Zombie was leaning towards Cake Man’s. If you’ll allow me to further characterize our script ideas as gunmen, the shootout played out something like this in my head.

High noon. We’re in the middle of the hottest fuckin desert, in the middle of the ghostiest fuckin town. Tumbleweed rolls by, gets snagged on a steer skull. Cake Man, Zombie, and me, triangle formation, hands inching to our peacemakers. No peace here. I’m looking to arrange a meeting with Cake Man and his maker, and he’s looking to send me to hell. Zombie is already buddy buddy with Cake Man, so I reckon he’s got his eyes set on me. I’m going to have to be faster than a whore’s prayer. That’s when the vulture flying over our heads lets out its call and we draw. Goddamn…that was quick. Cake Man has shot me the through the heart. I fall into my own grave. Zombie’s still trying to shoot at my corpse, but he discovers that his iron was never loaded. He looks to Cake Man, but finds a smoking barrel instead. Zombie gets his face shot in. Cake Man wins, walks off into the sunset.

But it’s nobody’s loss when you think about it. We’re all excited to be working together and with a good idea. But nobody really knows what to expect aside from more beer. This is our first collaboration, and we’ll keep you posted regardless of whether we’re cruising or sinking. Anybody have some advice for the collaboration rookies? DOA?