Haven't been feeling well. Fighting a sinus infection, trying to get my rest. "Trying" being the key word.
Bulk of this weekend has actually went to fixing my grandmother computer. The machine's nothing particularly special, a Dell 2400, really an out of the box budget model whichever way you slice it [not unlike my current laptop], that's been floating somewhere between needing a back to factory settings reformat/restart or just a merciful bullet to the brain. Purchased in '04 or '05, it's probably shouldn't be as shocking to me as it that the thing still runs - especially since the only hard workout I can even think of it having was my short MAME-fueled King of Fighters/Samurai Showdown obsession. Still, I'm not used to seeing computers last this long, especially with only the nominal upkeep I've ever bothered to get it.
Which in retrospect was kind of shitty of me. For a short time that 2400 was my go-to computer, in that particularly uncertain period between my Toshiba Satellite dying and selling the house so I could buy this winner I'm writing this on today. As personal milestones go, I had quite a few on that particular machine, from starting this blog, to finishing "Unfilmable," to even doing the bulk of "Trendsetter," not mention a bunch of smaller, probably to most people less noteworthy things, such as the "Before Hulu was Awful" "Death Note" marathons, or getting started on "Breaking Bad" [thanks, Justin]. Sitting at that computer I read a script by my friend Glen, setting up years of future "I knew him when..." stories. It was there that I finally got back in touch with Lex, and it was there that I finally, actually got to talk to her at length - one of those rare instances where a missed opportunity to get to know someone wasn't. Perched on that air-filled office chair in front of that monster of a monitor, I dissected so many things, from "The Dark Knight," to how I spent and organized my days, to how I was treating and taking care of myself, while in the midst of some pretty serious heartbreak.
And though I was partly joking before, it really was quite shameful that I let the computer deteriorate into such unusable shape, especially since it isn't even there for me, really - it's my grandmother's, it's what she plays games on, what she checks her email on. And with a little bit of regular attention and care, there's no reason it can't keep doing that. Selfish of me to let that go to hell like I did.
And as with anything put off far too long, "fixing" it wound up being quite the ordeal. How much of that was actually my fault is up for debate, of course - yes, I probably should have read up on the model and noticed that it was going to give me a bit of a run-around, what with it's notable [though not universal] penchant for not loading all its necessary drivers on the first installation, but that doesn't change the headache of its backup disk being pre-Service Pack 2. Thankfully, my new external hard drive, which was so perfect for backing up what little was on the computer in the first place, was just as perfect for downloading all the necessary BIOS, drivers, and updates that were needed. Especially since accessing the internet on its own was nearly the last thing the it wanted to do.
Actually, it's quite surprising how smoothly it runs now, even with limited memory and hard drive space. I'm really thankful for free virus-scouting programs like avast! and Ad-aware, and less memory-intensive browsers like Google Chrome, and hell, compared to IE, even Firefox, which make running an older machine feel a lot more do-able. The best part, of course, is that while digging through piles and piles of unorganized CD-ROMs for the reboot, I was also able to find the discs for the weird third party games that my grandmother has come to love so well over the years.
I honestly think if I hadn't found those, I would have been better off just shooting it.
Still. It felt odd to be in front of that computer again. Sense memory, the sounds, the texture of the mouse and keyboard and chair, even the smell [all right, I might be off my nut, but I swear when they get going, those old box monitors have a smell] made it feel like it hadn't been that long. Certainly not like it had been 3 years.
...huh. I guess Wednesday was the 26. Weird.
I guess we shared lots of sleepless nights back then. Giving it one more seemed like the least I could do.
And for the Mojo Wire - here's to the end of the first three years.
Showing posts with label Un-Filmable. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Un-Filmable. Show all posts
Updates. Also, who wants to talk about Roller Derby?
First up, and IMPORTANT. I'm tooling on a big project [re: Mary Hobb] which I want to feature Roller Derby in pretty prominently. I know some about the sport, but not a lot, and have been looking not only for a crash course [no pun intended], but also some people who are involved in it to talk to, to get some basic ideas of what the culture is like, specifically, the mindset of those who play, their camaraderie with their teammates and other teams, all of that. Inner workings, small things most people wouldn't think about, or realize. Pathos and atmosphere, too.
I've gotten in touch with one person so far, and am pretty optimistic about talking to them, but that's one person, and I know the wider my sampling, the better handle I'll have on all things derby. So, if you are on a roller derby team, and would be willing to talk to me, just let me know in the comments section of this post, friend me on Facebook, or e-mail me at mojo.wire.productions@gmail.com. Same goes for anyone who thinks they might know someone who'd be up for talking about it, naturally, along with any recommendations of books, websites, movies and anything else I won't necessarily get through Google searches on the subject. For the things I'm dealing with in this script, I really feel like derby is the best fit for the story, and because of that I want to be fair and respectful to the sport, and I know actually talking to some players is a way better way of representing it than just presenting it as the romanticized amalgam of punk rock, wrestling, and hockey that I've always pictured it as.
And don't worry, I've no plans to hit you with a boring questionnaire or anything like that. I just really want to talk, and take some impressions, maybe get a little insider info, and most importantly, do justice to this very interesting subculture.
Thanks to everyone in advance. I really appreciate it, and am looking forward to digging in.
Kind of a crazy Monday, only now really winding down. Which is probably good, because it's Tuesday.
Received some feedback recently on the peep show script. Sent it to a lot of people, but adequate time has passed now that I think I've gotten all the notes I'm going to get. Know what I need to do to finish it, just not entirely sure how yet. I need one of those Mr. Fantastic/Wrinkle in Time miracles that's going to allow me to get more in about one character, while also eliminating about half a page [roughly 30 seconds to a minute] from the script. Screenplay tesseracting. Why not? If you haven't seen it, and would like to, or if you're just interested in what I've been working on, let me know in the comments, and I'll send you a copy. Be glad for the extra eyes, or just the chance to share the story with you.
The peep show script is incredibly filmable, I feel. Could probably be done on a pretty modest budget [if not downright guerrilla-style], with just a little bit of construction and a good makeup artist. Honestly, the only problematic thing about it is the issue of extras... maybe finding a good actress willing to take her clothes off in an indie film. Depending on who you talk to, that can either be very hard, or very easy. Still, seems like a doable project, assuming all the talent/interest is there. Maybe something to poke around about.
A friend hooked me up with a pretty good resource for festivals. Much better than the outdated internet phonebook I'd stumbled upon. Now, it's just a matter of making good use of it. I have one finished feature [re: "Unfilmable"], which I think if I submit anywhere I'll probably be renaming "First Cut," and soon, two shorts that I feel pretty strongly about [re: "Nova" and the peep show script], so that's a good place to start from. Some of these places even take comic book scripts, which strikes me as backwards, but is encouraging. And I have more than a few other shorts that would just need some polish [re: "Christmas on the Titanic," "Walks with Angels," etc], and then I feel those could be responsibly tossed off as well. Need to start looking into registering these. For what I do right now, I'm pretty much covered legally, but if I'm serious about having folks look at these, I need something a little more solid to protect my work with.
I have a couple new comic ideas, not weird because I usually get a lot of ideas, but notable because they're mostly finished with how they came out in my notes. Outline, dialogue... rough layouts would be good, but since one is mostly talking heads, an artist might be hard to come up with. Neither have names yet.
One's a new Calamity Cash comic, though. Shorter than the other, simpler. It's not a new idea, but it's more a rough finished version of an older comic I had in mind. I've been way too on edge to sit down a do a lot of typing lately, but once this month is over, I'll have a better idea if I'm on solid ground for the foreseeable future. I'm not saying this stuff won't get worked on if I'm not, I just want a better idea of my schedule before I try to work out what's what.
Bugs me that I have to do that. I'd prefer to just be the kind of person to just sit down and motor through. I know a lot of writers who would, and do. I guess the short answer is that they're just better at this than me... I wish I wasn't at the mercy of other people's schedules, and my moods, but I am. Working on it.
A few quickie links before I head to bed. CheriAnn's deadline came up, and she finally shaved her head for St. Baldricks. You can read about the whole experience on her blog, and really get a look at the good she, and the other participants in the program, have done. The whole thing just makes me very proud to have gotten to know CheriAnn in the short time that I have.
A couple of Kickstarter things as well. With the tragedy in Japan, I know a lot of people have probably locked up any donations they might have made already, but if you can spare some small amount of money to support the arts, I'd like to draw your attention to these two projects.
The first is "Gigantic Sequins," a literary arts journal that was brought to my attention by poet Sophie Klahr. I don't know Sophie personally, but her blog is a favorite of mine, and anything she and her work is involved in is a worthwhile endeavor, and I'm certain those also featured in the "Sequins" are just as quality. The money goes to Issue 2.2, and they have a $500 goal they need to reach in less than a month.
The other is "Forever Young Fashion" by Rachel DeCavage, a fashion show being produced under Evergreen Design Co.'s banner. Rachel and I both went to Bennington College around the same time, but I will admit to not knowing her very well, if at all, honestly. However, I was turned on to Evergreen Design via Dee Goldsmith, and bought an organic or eco-friendly or some such t-shirt from them that I have kind of fallen in love with [if you know me, you know about me and t-shirts], made all the cooler knowing I was supporting [meager though said support was] a fellow alum's artistic pursuits. What can I say, I don't know a lot about sustainable design or fashion, but I can be won over with an awesome t-shirt, and I'm sure the more ambitious designs are going to be even more impressive than that. The project's looking to get donations in the area of $1,950 in little over a month, so spread the word if you can't at least spare some cash.
In both cases, don't just take my word for it, go check out the pages and the proposals.
I'll should be back with updates sooner rather than later. If I do fall behind, the blame can lay squarely on the shoulders of the Agatha Christie novel I stumbled upon in one of my grandmother's many boxes of used paperbacks the other day.
I've gotten in touch with one person so far, and am pretty optimistic about talking to them, but that's one person, and I know the wider my sampling, the better handle I'll have on all things derby. So, if you are on a roller derby team, and would be willing to talk to me, just let me know in the comments section of this post, friend me on Facebook, or e-mail me at mojo.wire.productions@gmail.com. Same goes for anyone who thinks they might know someone who'd be up for talking about it, naturally, along with any recommendations of books, websites, movies and anything else I won't necessarily get through Google searches on the subject. For the things I'm dealing with in this script, I really feel like derby is the best fit for the story, and because of that I want to be fair and respectful to the sport, and I know actually talking to some players is a way better way of representing it than just presenting it as the romanticized amalgam of punk rock, wrestling, and hockey that I've always pictured it as.
And don't worry, I've no plans to hit you with a boring questionnaire or anything like that. I just really want to talk, and take some impressions, maybe get a little insider info, and most importantly, do justice to this very interesting subculture.
Thanks to everyone in advance. I really appreciate it, and am looking forward to digging in.
---
Kind of a crazy Monday, only now really winding down. Which is probably good, because it's Tuesday.
Received some feedback recently on the peep show script. Sent it to a lot of people, but adequate time has passed now that I think I've gotten all the notes I'm going to get. Know what I need to do to finish it, just not entirely sure how yet. I need one of those Mr. Fantastic/Wrinkle in Time miracles that's going to allow me to get more in about one character, while also eliminating about half a page [roughly 30 seconds to a minute] from the script. Screenplay tesseracting. Why not? If you haven't seen it, and would like to, or if you're just interested in what I've been working on, let me know in the comments, and I'll send you a copy. Be glad for the extra eyes, or just the chance to share the story with you.
The peep show script is incredibly filmable, I feel. Could probably be done on a pretty modest budget [if not downright guerrilla-style], with just a little bit of construction and a good makeup artist. Honestly, the only problematic thing about it is the issue of extras... maybe finding a good actress willing to take her clothes off in an indie film. Depending on who you talk to, that can either be very hard, or very easy. Still, seems like a doable project, assuming all the talent/interest is there. Maybe something to poke around about.
A friend hooked me up with a pretty good resource for festivals. Much better than the outdated internet phonebook I'd stumbled upon. Now, it's just a matter of making good use of it. I have one finished feature [re: "Unfilmable"], which I think if I submit anywhere I'll probably be renaming "First Cut," and soon, two shorts that I feel pretty strongly about [re: "Nova" and the peep show script], so that's a good place to start from. Some of these places even take comic book scripts, which strikes me as backwards, but is encouraging. And I have more than a few other shorts that would just need some polish [re: "Christmas on the Titanic," "Walks with Angels," etc], and then I feel those could be responsibly tossed off as well. Need to start looking into registering these. For what I do right now, I'm pretty much covered legally, but if I'm serious about having folks look at these, I need something a little more solid to protect my work with.
I have a couple new comic ideas, not weird because I usually get a lot of ideas, but notable because they're mostly finished with how they came out in my notes. Outline, dialogue... rough layouts would be good, but since one is mostly talking heads, an artist might be hard to come up with. Neither have names yet.
One's a new Calamity Cash comic, though. Shorter than the other, simpler. It's not a new idea, but it's more a rough finished version of an older comic I had in mind. I've been way too on edge to sit down a do a lot of typing lately, but once this month is over, I'll have a better idea if I'm on solid ground for the foreseeable future. I'm not saying this stuff won't get worked on if I'm not, I just want a better idea of my schedule before I try to work out what's what.
Bugs me that I have to do that. I'd prefer to just be the kind of person to just sit down and motor through. I know a lot of writers who would, and do. I guess the short answer is that they're just better at this than me... I wish I wasn't at the mercy of other people's schedules, and my moods, but I am. Working on it.
A few quickie links before I head to bed. CheriAnn's deadline came up, and she finally shaved her head for St. Baldricks. You can read about the whole experience on her blog, and really get a look at the good she, and the other participants in the program, have done. The whole thing just makes me very proud to have gotten to know CheriAnn in the short time that I have.
A couple of Kickstarter things as well. With the tragedy in Japan, I know a lot of people have probably locked up any donations they might have made already, but if you can spare some small amount of money to support the arts, I'd like to draw your attention to these two projects.
The first is "Gigantic Sequins," a literary arts journal that was brought to my attention by poet Sophie Klahr. I don't know Sophie personally, but her blog is a favorite of mine, and anything she and her work is involved in is a worthwhile endeavor, and I'm certain those also featured in the "Sequins" are just as quality. The money goes to Issue 2.2, and they have a $500 goal they need to reach in less than a month.
The other is "Forever Young Fashion" by Rachel DeCavage, a fashion show being produced under Evergreen Design Co.'s banner. Rachel and I both went to Bennington College around the same time, but I will admit to not knowing her very well, if at all, honestly. However, I was turned on to Evergreen Design via Dee Goldsmith, and bought an organic or eco-friendly or some such t-shirt from them that I have kind of fallen in love with [if you know me, you know about me and t-shirts], made all the cooler knowing I was supporting [meager though said support was] a fellow alum's artistic pursuits. What can I say, I don't know a lot about sustainable design or fashion, but I can be won over with an awesome t-shirt, and I'm sure the more ambitious designs are going to be even more impressive than that. The project's looking to get donations in the area of $1,950 in little over a month, so spread the word if you can't at least spare some cash.
In both cases, don't just take my word for it, go check out the pages and the proposals.
I'll should be back with updates sooner rather than later. If I do fall behind, the blame can lay squarely on the shoulders of the Agatha Christie novel I stumbled upon in one of my grandmother's many boxes of used paperbacks the other day.
Purpose
This is kind of a weird entry.
A couple of things have happened, or I guess more I've been thinking about a few things, which have lined up with a few other things I've read lately, and I thought I might lay some of it out here.
A couple days ago, internet friend/comic writer who's stuff I rather dig on Eric M. Esquivel posted this article on Bleeding Cool. It's a really good article, as are his others for the website, and I imagine the future ones will be too, and if you're not reading it, you should be. This particular article, I don't entirely agree with everything Eric says, mostly because I think memoir is really important to literature [I studied memoir in college, after all], and I don't think any writer ever really gets away from their own hobby-horses in their work. But he brings up a lot of great, interesting points, and I've been rolling them over in my head since it was posted on Tuesday.
Today, real world friend [not any more important than an internet friend, just making the distinction so people don't think EME and I are out in Tucson, destroying mailboxes together in an El Camino with a baseball bat on weekends -- AKA, totally not dick-riding here] Glen "Mario's Closet" Brogan posted this on his blog, showing off his invitation to Gallery 1988, a real accomplishment for him, and as he points out in his post THE destination for artists who do work in the 8-bit, throwback, cartoony, pulp culture-type genre of artwork. It's a big success, sort of the proof that what he's doing is lucrative, and worthwhile, a real "your dreams can come true" moment for him. And I can't congratulate him enough for it, really. It's huge.
But again, it's made me think.
As a writer, or as someone who wants to be a writer, or as someone who writes too much about wanting to be a writer and not actually writing [I'm sure you have your own opinion on which of these I am], I think a lot about purpose, and about success. Purpose, in my mind, is why you work, why you create, why it is you do whatever it is you feel you have a calling to do. Success is doing something that cements that purpose as worthwhile to you. Purpose is why you work, success is what comes when that work has achieved something.
I mean, roughly. Keeping it strictly to the "sky is blue, grass is green" sort of stuff. And remember, I'm just talking about myself here. I don't know the blue you see is the same blue I see. You may not think it's as simple as purpose and success.
I think the definition of success is probably what people struggle with most often. What's an achievement? Being able to make money at what you do? Being able to do what you love for a living? Having your work reach the most people? Getting noticed by one particular critic? Reaching a benchmark that others in your field have reached? Working with a particular person in your field? Maybe just finishing a project.
Maybe just getting a chance to work on a project.
It's hazy. It's pretty different for just about everyone, and that's not even factoring in what other people see as your achievements, what society and your peers see as an achievement. And then there are numerous things you just can't see -- maybe you'll set a goal that's unreachable. Maybe you'll be very pragmatic with your goal, and you will reach it, but you won't really feel like you've succeeded. Then there's that fear. That you'll get to the top of your Everest, look around and say "this is it?" I would imagine there are more than a few people who have that happen who stick the gun their mouth at that point, but there are likely far more who turn around, head right back down that mountain, and find another one to climb.
I think about all this sometimes, but only in a theoretical sense. Because honestly, I'm farther away from success than I've ever been in my life. The comic I'm working on with Justin, though I'm psyched for it, is more of a practice exercise for him [re: Calamity Cash and the Town with No Name]. I don't have a regular artist to work with on hand. I've not been able to get a single film project off the ground [nor can I seemingly keep anyone interested in said projects for more than about... six months at a time]. I blog, but there are a lot more talented bloggers out there, with a lot more readers, and I know this because I link them daily [Hannah Miet, John Wiswell, Hipstercrite], and even have connections to them through social network sites like Facebook, and Twitter. The biggest creative thing I have going right now is a screenwriting contest that I won't even hear about until the end of the year.
And don't get wrong. None of this is a pity party. Some days it is, but right now, I'm just looking at the facts realistically. For a creative person, I have very little going on creatively. For a writer, I'm not writing a lot of stuff that will actively go anywhere -- I'm trying to get these freelance jobs going, and I'm working on getting back to blogging regularly. These are important, of course, but different kinds of important.
I think -- I say "I think" because I'm really not sure yet -- but I think this is in part do to a lack of purpose I've felt lately. I've wanted to write for a long time, but there was definitely a time, before high school I'd say, that I didn't really think I could do it. And I didn't really know what I wanted to write. And then, things happened, and I was exposed to a lot of new, and interesting stuff, stuff like the movie "Clerks" and the movie "Slacker" which, no offense meant to either, but made me feel like these things were things I could do. That I was capable of. And I was drawn to comics, because there's this part of me that's just been reading them so long, enjoying them for so long, that I sort of think like that -- and even when I'm writing prose, even when I'm writing a movie, I see things in my head, sort of lined up as panels. It's a part of me, it's how I think.
It sounds insane, but it just is. Even my favorite novel, the Great Gatsby, when I think of scenes from that book, I think of them as though they were illustrated by John Romita Jr.
So that's what got me going. But I feel like I lost the purpose along the way. I remember, from the moment I sat down, and said "writing is what I wanted to do" I started crafting all these characters in my head. This non-mythic mythology, with all these people based off of people I knew, or people I'd like to know, or myself, and all of them interacting with each other. In some ways, they were just vessels, to get my weird stories and my fucked-up opinions out, and in mouths other than my own. It shaped into a world that went by a lot of names, Sulk, Ever Higher, the Living Dead, White Trash Nation, Sweet Home, etc, etc, etc. And in my head, it was all very realized, and there was this strong compulsion to tell this story, and I knew the characters not just by name, but by age, and if you asked me about one of them and what they'd do on a particular holiday, I could tell you like they were someone who I went to school with, and saw every day.
I put those away at some point. I don't know if it was because so much of the early work with them was done with Sam as the illustrator, and when her and I stopped working together, it felt wrong to pursue them further, or if it was because I picked up new stories like Un-filmable, and Trendsetter, and all the little shorts I wrote. Maybe it was because so much of that early stuff I ended up refining and recycling into other ideas, which also haven't seen the light of day, really. Maybe just so much has happened in my life in the past few years that made up stories just don't have the room in my head that they once did.
I'm not sure. What I do know is, whenever I had one of those stories to tell, I felt the pull of purpose. Like "this is what I'm supposed to be doing, this is what I want to be doing." And then everything that happened, happened, and you know, suddenly I didn't have the house anymore, and my family was a mess, and I wasn't going to be the producer on any movie, and this other thing was delayed, and my dad was dead, and everything was just -- over. Fuck purpose, just not shutting down was the order of the day. Success... success was something that happened other people, people who knew, at least partly, what success meant, who had a reason to work towards those achievements. It was all very far away, if possible at all.
And yet.
I kept writing. I don't know why. It was like writing was autopilot for me. Oh, your life's shit? You've got time, write about these Mercedes Marxists in New York City. What, it'll never get made? Who cares, you're not sleeping anyway, here's a thing about Angels falling from the sky. You don't feel remotely interested in submitting anything to be published? Fuck you, write about fictional communal tent towns anyway.
Maybe it wasn't that hostile. But you get the general idea.
But I think that's sort of where I am, that's how I feel. There's nothing I have this overwhelming urge to get done. No one story I feel I absolutely have to tell. Maybe for a while, while trying to get "Nova" to 25 pages, I got that back for a bit, for just a little while I felt like "You have to do this, because you've worked hard on this story, and you know it's worth your time, and it deserves to be made." And I took the steps I could do that, but regrettably, that put it out of my hands for the time being. So I'm back without any strong story to tell. No purpose.
It really hit me a few weekends back, when I learned a much more successful writer than I was about a year younger than me, and I finally said to myself, "You know, Randall, if you're going to talk about writing comic books, you should really suck it up, find a way to find yourself an artist, and get to it." So I dug up a lot of resources with a lot of helpful hints on how to use the internet to do that, and I will admit some of them were really not appealing [Millarworld, anyone?], but I was going to do it. I was going to make some inroads, and find someone not just to work with me, but someone who I worked well with. And as I was trying to get some stuff together, some pitches and scripts, and the like, I realized, I really didn't know what I'd want to work on if I did have an artist. Could I go back to the old stuff, was that stuff I still wanted to work on, was it even something I still considered good [not taking into account that a lot of that is not as clear in my mind as it once was, most of my notes are in numerous places thanks to my forcible move]? Could I come up with new stuff I had strong feelings on, stories I could really get behind? Because the last thing I wanted to do was start some new working relationship with an artist and only have a lukewarm project to pursue.
The honest answer was no. Even "Real Quality Comics" which was supposed to be a setup for a new story, I never cranked out a script to an issue 2. I think I could. I have outlines for four different issue #2s. But I don't have any one story I really want to tell.
I'm not sure how one goes about finding that. I think, like I said, I got close to it with "Nova," and if I just keep working, keep writing, I could find something that I got really passionate about making again. For right now, I'm settling for a different kind of purpose -- I think just trying to improve my writing, trying to improve the uses of it as a skill, that's something. Getting better, by doing more stuff, blogging more, working with editors who are going to be harder on me, even doing the copy work, which isn't creative, but helps with technical proficiency.
And that's good. It's not a driving force. It's not a purpose. I don't see it leading to a satisfying sort of success, except maybe in small, more practical ways. But I don't know that anyone says "I want to be a writer. I want to write" and looks to find success in that in a merely practical manner. Maybe I'm being short-sighted. It's possible. But not knowing what you want, or why you want it, can really set you behind.
* It's really important I stress that none of these musings come from any sort of spite, or professional jealousy, nor am I so narcissistic as to only be able to view the success that my friends find through some twisted lens that reminds me of what I haven't done. I'm proud of my friends and their art, and I'm really happy that this blog and Twitter have let me get to know some of these cool people whose work I've come to admire. Management encourages everyone to go see what they're doing instead of spending so much time listening to this author try and figure out what it is he wants to do.
A couple of things have happened, or I guess more I've been thinking about a few things, which have lined up with a few other things I've read lately, and I thought I might lay some of it out here.
A couple days ago, internet friend/comic writer who's stuff I rather dig on Eric M. Esquivel posted this article on Bleeding Cool. It's a really good article, as are his others for the website, and I imagine the future ones will be too, and if you're not reading it, you should be. This particular article, I don't entirely agree with everything Eric says, mostly because I think memoir is really important to literature [I studied memoir in college, after all], and I don't think any writer ever really gets away from their own hobby-horses in their work. But he brings up a lot of great, interesting points, and I've been rolling them over in my head since it was posted on Tuesday.
Today, real world friend [not any more important than an internet friend, just making the distinction so people don't think EME and I are out in Tucson, destroying mailboxes together in an El Camino with a baseball bat on weekends -- AKA, totally not dick-riding here] Glen "Mario's Closet" Brogan posted this on his blog, showing off his invitation to Gallery 1988, a real accomplishment for him, and as he points out in his post THE destination for artists who do work in the 8-bit, throwback, cartoony, pulp culture-type genre of artwork. It's a big success, sort of the proof that what he's doing is lucrative, and worthwhile, a real "your dreams can come true" moment for him. And I can't congratulate him enough for it, really. It's huge.
But again, it's made me think.
As a writer, or as someone who wants to be a writer, or as someone who writes too much about wanting to be a writer and not actually writing [I'm sure you have your own opinion on which of these I am], I think a lot about purpose, and about success. Purpose, in my mind, is why you work, why you create, why it is you do whatever it is you feel you have a calling to do. Success is doing something that cements that purpose as worthwhile to you. Purpose is why you work, success is what comes when that work has achieved something.
I mean, roughly. Keeping it strictly to the "sky is blue, grass is green" sort of stuff. And remember, I'm just talking about myself here. I don't know the blue you see is the same blue I see. You may not think it's as simple as purpose and success.
I think the definition of success is probably what people struggle with most often. What's an achievement? Being able to make money at what you do? Being able to do what you love for a living? Having your work reach the most people? Getting noticed by one particular critic? Reaching a benchmark that others in your field have reached? Working with a particular person in your field? Maybe just finishing a project.
Maybe just getting a chance to work on a project.
It's hazy. It's pretty different for just about everyone, and that's not even factoring in what other people see as your achievements, what society and your peers see as an achievement. And then there are numerous things you just can't see -- maybe you'll set a goal that's unreachable. Maybe you'll be very pragmatic with your goal, and you will reach it, but you won't really feel like you've succeeded. Then there's that fear. That you'll get to the top of your Everest, look around and say "this is it?" I would imagine there are more than a few people who have that happen who stick the gun their mouth at that point, but there are likely far more who turn around, head right back down that mountain, and find another one to climb.
I think about all this sometimes, but only in a theoretical sense. Because honestly, I'm farther away from success than I've ever been in my life. The comic I'm working on with Justin, though I'm psyched for it, is more of a practice exercise for him [re: Calamity Cash and the Town with No Name]. I don't have a regular artist to work with on hand. I've not been able to get a single film project off the ground [nor can I seemingly keep anyone interested in said projects for more than about... six months at a time]. I blog, but there are a lot more talented bloggers out there, with a lot more readers, and I know this because I link them daily [Hannah Miet, John Wiswell, Hipstercrite], and even have connections to them through social network sites like Facebook, and Twitter. The biggest creative thing I have going right now is a screenwriting contest that I won't even hear about until the end of the year.
And don't get wrong. None of this is a pity party. Some days it is, but right now, I'm just looking at the facts realistically. For a creative person, I have very little going on creatively. For a writer, I'm not writing a lot of stuff that will actively go anywhere -- I'm trying to get these freelance jobs going, and I'm working on getting back to blogging regularly. These are important, of course, but different kinds of important.
I think -- I say "I think" because I'm really not sure yet -- but I think this is in part do to a lack of purpose I've felt lately. I've wanted to write for a long time, but there was definitely a time, before high school I'd say, that I didn't really think I could do it. And I didn't really know what I wanted to write. And then, things happened, and I was exposed to a lot of new, and interesting stuff, stuff like the movie "Clerks" and the movie "Slacker" which, no offense meant to either, but made me feel like these things were things I could do. That I was capable of. And I was drawn to comics, because there's this part of me that's just been reading them so long, enjoying them for so long, that I sort of think like that -- and even when I'm writing prose, even when I'm writing a movie, I see things in my head, sort of lined up as panels. It's a part of me, it's how I think.
It sounds insane, but it just is. Even my favorite novel, the Great Gatsby, when I think of scenes from that book, I think of them as though they were illustrated by John Romita Jr.
So that's what got me going. But I feel like I lost the purpose along the way. I remember, from the moment I sat down, and said "writing is what I wanted to do" I started crafting all these characters in my head. This non-mythic mythology, with all these people based off of people I knew, or people I'd like to know, or myself, and all of them interacting with each other. In some ways, they were just vessels, to get my weird stories and my fucked-up opinions out, and in mouths other than my own. It shaped into a world that went by a lot of names, Sulk, Ever Higher, the Living Dead, White Trash Nation, Sweet Home, etc, etc, etc. And in my head, it was all very realized, and there was this strong compulsion to tell this story, and I knew the characters not just by name, but by age, and if you asked me about one of them and what they'd do on a particular holiday, I could tell you like they were someone who I went to school with, and saw every day.
I put those away at some point. I don't know if it was because so much of the early work with them was done with Sam as the illustrator, and when her and I stopped working together, it felt wrong to pursue them further, or if it was because I picked up new stories like Un-filmable, and Trendsetter, and all the little shorts I wrote. Maybe it was because so much of that early stuff I ended up refining and recycling into other ideas, which also haven't seen the light of day, really. Maybe just so much has happened in my life in the past few years that made up stories just don't have the room in my head that they once did.
I'm not sure. What I do know is, whenever I had one of those stories to tell, I felt the pull of purpose. Like "this is what I'm supposed to be doing, this is what I want to be doing." And then everything that happened, happened, and you know, suddenly I didn't have the house anymore, and my family was a mess, and I wasn't going to be the producer on any movie, and this other thing was delayed, and my dad was dead, and everything was just -- over. Fuck purpose, just not shutting down was the order of the day. Success... success was something that happened other people, people who knew, at least partly, what success meant, who had a reason to work towards those achievements. It was all very far away, if possible at all.
And yet.
I kept writing. I don't know why. It was like writing was autopilot for me. Oh, your life's shit? You've got time, write about these Mercedes Marxists in New York City. What, it'll never get made? Who cares, you're not sleeping anyway, here's a thing about Angels falling from the sky. You don't feel remotely interested in submitting anything to be published? Fuck you, write about fictional communal tent towns anyway.
Maybe it wasn't that hostile. But you get the general idea.
But I think that's sort of where I am, that's how I feel. There's nothing I have this overwhelming urge to get done. No one story I feel I absolutely have to tell. Maybe for a while, while trying to get "Nova" to 25 pages, I got that back for a bit, for just a little while I felt like "You have to do this, because you've worked hard on this story, and you know it's worth your time, and it deserves to be made." And I took the steps I could do that, but regrettably, that put it out of my hands for the time being. So I'm back without any strong story to tell. No purpose.
It really hit me a few weekends back, when I learned a much more successful writer than I was about a year younger than me, and I finally said to myself, "You know, Randall, if you're going to talk about writing comic books, you should really suck it up, find a way to find yourself an artist, and get to it." So I dug up a lot of resources with a lot of helpful hints on how to use the internet to do that, and I will admit some of them were really not appealing [Millarworld, anyone?], but I was going to do it. I was going to make some inroads, and find someone not just to work with me, but someone who I worked well with. And as I was trying to get some stuff together, some pitches and scripts, and the like, I realized, I really didn't know what I'd want to work on if I did have an artist. Could I go back to the old stuff, was that stuff I still wanted to work on, was it even something I still considered good [not taking into account that a lot of that is not as clear in my mind as it once was, most of my notes are in numerous places thanks to my forcible move]? Could I come up with new stuff I had strong feelings on, stories I could really get behind? Because the last thing I wanted to do was start some new working relationship with an artist and only have a lukewarm project to pursue.
The honest answer was no. Even "Real Quality Comics" which was supposed to be a setup for a new story, I never cranked out a script to an issue 2. I think I could. I have outlines for four different issue #2s. But I don't have any one story I really want to tell.
I'm not sure how one goes about finding that. I think, like I said, I got close to it with "Nova," and if I just keep working, keep writing, I could find something that I got really passionate about making again. For right now, I'm settling for a different kind of purpose -- I think just trying to improve my writing, trying to improve the uses of it as a skill, that's something. Getting better, by doing more stuff, blogging more, working with editors who are going to be harder on me, even doing the copy work, which isn't creative, but helps with technical proficiency.
And that's good. It's not a driving force. It's not a purpose. I don't see it leading to a satisfying sort of success, except maybe in small, more practical ways. But I don't know that anyone says "I want to be a writer. I want to write" and looks to find success in that in a merely practical manner. Maybe I'm being short-sighted. It's possible. But not knowing what you want, or why you want it, can really set you behind.
* It's really important I stress that none of these musings come from any sort of spite, or professional jealousy, nor am I so narcissistic as to only be able to view the success that my friends find through some twisted lens that reminds me of what I haven't done. I'm proud of my friends and their art, and I'm really happy that this blog and Twitter have let me get to know some of these cool people whose work I've come to admire. Management encourages everyone to go see what they're doing instead of spending so much time listening to this author try and figure out what it is he wants to do.
Found wanting.
Last night I did the first twenty pages of "Bourgeois Punks," before stumbling about where to take the story after I'd already had a coke party and a funeral [the first I put in with great trepidation, especially having read John's recollection of workshop writing at Bennington]. I don't really know if I'm going to follow up with it, as while I already have a strong Act 3 in mind, I really have no clue what the end of Act 1 and the beginning of Act 2 is supposed to look like. I only mention it at all because it's rare that my throw-away writing takes shape like this did -- usually what I end up with is a scene, a conversation, or an outline, but here, there's a beginning, and several scenes, and all the characters slowly hit their mark of who they're supposed to be.
Besides, at 20 pages of a screenplay, it's hard to not start thinking about the math. If it only tops out at 90, then it's entirely plausible that a first draft could be done in around five days. Of course, in this case, that would rely on some flashes of brilliance and inspiration to get me through the next thirty or so until the things start happening that I know I want to have happen, but still. People have been telling me more and more lately not to toss so much out, and though I've always felt my process has worked very well with me, it's hard not to argue with folks who've managed to put together a slightly more robust body of work than I have.
The story for BP is nothing special. Pretty much a straight romance with hipsters, something I keep toying with but putting away as soon as it starts to resemble anything. Ending takes a different turn than what I think most people would expect with the genre, so there's that as a saving grace, along with a denouement I think I could actually sit through if I were watching it. There are a lot of characters [in this first twenty I just barely squeeze in nine], and the pacing is sort of wonky, and would probably have to be reworked heavily if I ever wanted to do anything with this. Not strange for me is knowing where I want to go, but not being very sure as to how to get there, and I think I might have just kept writing tonight if not for the fact that I had no idea what the next scene should be.
This morning, I've been thinking about "Un-filmable" -- specifically, if I'm any closer to getting it made than I was when I finished it over a year ago. The funny thing is, it doesn't seem like such an impossibility now, as it has in the past. Pragmatically speaking, and working from the numbers Kyle and I were using on "Nova," I think it could probably be finished in two-and-a-half weeks for somewhere in the area of 25,000-35,000 dollars. Not that I'm anywhere near being able to get that kind of money, but still, with the few connections I have, if funds were to materialize, I think I could do it easily.
So much is about money, of course. And I'd probably have to take the rain scene out. At least the exterior one.
It's good to get writing done, as I actually hadn't done much of anything since making my Halloween post. Three days isn't really a dry spell, especially for me, but for some reason it felt like one. Not getting any feedback on it was kind of a bummer, but let's face it -- not that many people read this blog, and sometimes replying to comments slips my mind, which I doubt encourages people to do make any.
I'm going to try and do a "PsyOps" outline in the next couple of days. I was looking at how many notes I put together in that one period of time when things were just really flying onto the page, and realized if I ordered these things a bit, I might actually have the story I've been looking for. Not sure yet, though.
In an interesting aside, Julia and Zoe both have blogs up about some of their influences. Both good, interesting reads, especially for my interests. Speaking of my interests, the Lucid Despair blog also has an entry up on "Heart Throb Comics," that though tongue-in-cheek was just fascinating to me, especially considering the "Real Quality Comics" script I did recently.
All for now. It's been nice to write a little, but the past 12 hours or so have been rough.
Besides, at 20 pages of a screenplay, it's hard to not start thinking about the math. If it only tops out at 90, then it's entirely plausible that a first draft could be done in around five days. Of course, in this case, that would rely on some flashes of brilliance and inspiration to get me through the next thirty or so until the things start happening that I know I want to have happen, but still. People have been telling me more and more lately not to toss so much out, and though I've always felt my process has worked very well with me, it's hard not to argue with folks who've managed to put together a slightly more robust body of work than I have.
The story for BP is nothing special. Pretty much a straight romance with hipsters, something I keep toying with but putting away as soon as it starts to resemble anything. Ending takes a different turn than what I think most people would expect with the genre, so there's that as a saving grace, along with a denouement I think I could actually sit through if I were watching it. There are a lot of characters [in this first twenty I just barely squeeze in nine], and the pacing is sort of wonky, and would probably have to be reworked heavily if I ever wanted to do anything with this. Not strange for me is knowing where I want to go, but not being very sure as to how to get there, and I think I might have just kept writing tonight if not for the fact that I had no idea what the next scene should be.
This morning, I've been thinking about "Un-filmable" -- specifically, if I'm any closer to getting it made than I was when I finished it over a year ago. The funny thing is, it doesn't seem like such an impossibility now, as it has in the past. Pragmatically speaking, and working from the numbers Kyle and I were using on "Nova," I think it could probably be finished in two-and-a-half weeks for somewhere in the area of 25,000-35,000 dollars. Not that I'm anywhere near being able to get that kind of money, but still, with the few connections I have, if funds were to materialize, I think I could do it easily.
So much is about money, of course. And I'd probably have to take the rain scene out. At least the exterior one.
It's good to get writing done, as I actually hadn't done much of anything since making my Halloween post. Three days isn't really a dry spell, especially for me, but for some reason it felt like one. Not getting any feedback on it was kind of a bummer, but let's face it -- not that many people read this blog, and sometimes replying to comments slips my mind, which I doubt encourages people to do make any.
I'm going to try and do a "PsyOps" outline in the next couple of days. I was looking at how many notes I put together in that one period of time when things were just really flying onto the page, and realized if I ordered these things a bit, I might actually have the story I've been looking for. Not sure yet, though.
In an interesting aside, Julia and Zoe both have blogs up about some of their influences. Both good, interesting reads, especially for my interests. Speaking of my interests, the Lucid Despair blog also has an entry up on "Heart Throb Comics," that though tongue-in-cheek was just fascinating to me, especially considering the "Real Quality Comics" script I did recently.
All for now. It's been nice to write a little, but the past 12 hours or so have been rough.
With respect to J. G. Jones.
I wonder how many of my blogs have begun with "My mood has dipped considerably"?
My mood has dipped considerably, for no discernible reason. As anyone reading or talking to me lately might have noticed, things are going pretty well, and I have been pretty upbeat, especially when compared to how cheerful I usually am.
Likely culprit is, unsurprisingly, lack of sleep. I'm not sure about anyone else, and this is strictly x=1 of me, but insomnia tends to hit me in one of three ways. The first is just neglecting to sleep -- this tends to include getting busy with something and just losing track of time, and usually includes everything from choosing to not sleep, to "forgetting" to sleep [yeah, it does happen]. This first way isn't insomnia in the strictest sense, but I do lose a lot of sleep this way, and like traditional insomnia even when "choosing" to stay up, I rarely feel as though it something within my control. The second way is a general lack of feeling tired -- most people will recognize this as exhaustion but the inability to nod off, when you become easily distracted, your mind seems interested in anything but lulling off, and a great deal of this time is spent staring at the ceiling or the back of your eyelids. Sometimes this manifests with me physically, an itch from having my head on the pillow, a scratchy throat that induces coughing, or feeling like there's something in my eye when there really isn't. This was what hit me this morning, while trying to squeeze in a few hours, though admittedly, it's not the typical offender for me.
More often than not, what I'm struck by is a sort of pre-bed panic attack, the anticipation of, and the exhaustion after, not to mention the extend duration of the panic itself, being the chief reason for being unable to nod off to dreamland. Ironically, it is during these spells I'm most productive -- possibly because sleep typically isn't my goal, calming myself down is, and a lot of my notes and blog entries come from bedside rantings trying to reign myself back under control. Sometimes, it works.
Woke up this morning in the upright position, propped up with my back against the wall, in exactly the same position I remember being in the night before when sleep seemed so far away. Pretty jarring, since there were no dreams [strange for me], and it felt like no time had passed. A blackout? Doubtful, but I have been running on an hour less than usual for the past couple nights, so I suppose it's a possibility. There were definitely a few things done on my computer before I'd slipped off like that, because I don't remember typing what was on the screen upon waking.
Then again, it was mostly gibberish. Entirely possible I was sleep-typing, or I just don't remember the struggle between my brain and body while falling asleep. Worrying about this too much seems ill-advised.
Had a dream I was working with Ron Howard the other night. Weird. I'm not exactly a huge fan, but it was interesting. Very vivid. Strange.
Saw Kyle last Thursday. Justin and Staci took me with them to the movie premiere they were having for this little film they made for one of their professors. It was funny, though I imagine I was missing a few of the in-jokes, but it gave me and Kyle some time to talk about "Trendsetter," and a couple of the other people there chimed in too. It was also nice to share the news with everyone about my possible job, especially since I so rarely have any good news to share.
On producing, I thought I might get a little more informed. I graduated as a writer, after all. Picked up "The Pocket Lawyer for Filmmakers" by Thomas A. Cromwell, and the "Indie Producers Handbook" by Myrl A. Schreibman, partly for a refresher, and partly for self-improvement.
Back to "Trendsetter" for a minute. A friend I met through Glen [don't have many other kinds of friends back here anymore], a really down guy named Ian Nolte, had read the script [that glutton of a short], and had a few thoughts that he shared with me while we were all having dinner. All of it was helpful, especially the note that there was a bit of a separation between the movie's gimmick [the letters], and the film's plot [pretty much everything else], which was particularly striking to me because it has been on my mind a lot lately while doing re-writes, and I have been trying to work the gimmick into the movies plot in some way that really makes it matter. Regrettably, with my decision to take this movie in a less traditional way, and not make it your usual three-act with the weirdness at the center, driving the story, the "trend" becomes like one of Hitchcock's McGuffins. And my fear is that something this expansive might be too big to be a McGuffin.
Ian mentioning it at all makes me feel a lot less crazy for agonizing over it as much as I have been lately. Still a big decision. Seeing a problem and fixing it is hard. Trying to decide if something is or isn't a problem is a lot harder. At least for me.
Ian also called it a romance. He didn't mean it like I took it, but if I'm being honest with my little blog, that's been working on me since it was said. It's difficult to explain, but I always feel like I'm working so hard to get as far away from convention as possible. I can't get away from the subjects I'm dealing with -- connections, misery, relationships -- but the thought of "Trendsetter" in a video store with that little red sticker on the box that says "Romance?" Something to work on. Not a mistake I can let my audience make.
[Paused here, re-read last paragraph, shook my head.]
I'm getting arrogant. "Trendsetter in a video store." Going to Sundance with the closest thing to a male best friend I've ever had. Been thinking, even talking about doing "Un-Filmable" of all things. Thinking about the future -- living... not here, having a social life again. A girlfriend. Seems wrong, like I shouldn't be setting myself up for disappointments. Have plans, do my best to make them work out, but these fantasies are not good things.
One thing at a time.
Going to watch more movies, have to, self-imposed homework to get me on task at putting "Trendsetter" back together. I have a stack of DVDs I've gotten behind on. Last night was "Wristcutters" which hit me just right -- like "Thumbsucker" or"The Royal Tenebaums" did. Dark comedies, with something to say. A structure that doesn't quite fit what all the other movies have. The kind of movies I'd like to make, I guess. Because there aren't many of them, and they're the kind I like to see.
Really striking, hilarious bit in "Wristcutters" that I hate to spoil, but has stuck with me all night. After Zia and Mikal spend a night together, sleeping on the only beach they've found since they "offed," they wake up to find the rocky coast strewn with used needles and condoms. Great image, and they barely gave it to us at all, just a glimpse, enough for the disgust and hilarity. Amazing.
Also? Tom Waits.
Just read all of "Y: The Last Man" this past weekend. Justin handed it off to me, after borrowing it from Ally. Had it on my list of comics to check out for a long time, being a huge Brian K. Vaughn fan, and enjoyed reading it, even if the whole series only took me a few hours to get through. I liked it a lot, whole series was a really enjoyable ride, and I felt good when I finished it. Vaughn's dialogue wasn't as tight in this as some of the other stuff of his I've read though, but the characters were good, with a plot line involving an Israeli solider named Alter really grabbing my attention, and building to a final showdown between her and the main character, Yorick, which actually paid off in the end. Some of the scientific stuff was totally lost on me, as often happens when I'm reading science fiction, but it never bothered me, which was a rare accomplishment.
And there are little things that are still with me about "Y" too -- the beautiful girl with the scar from the church, the looks of rage and indignation on the militia women, the garish, anti-feminist message the removed breast of the Amazons managed to convey while knowing the characters were hoping for the opposite intention... the cover art is what's always talked about with "Y" but so much about Pia Guerra's work on the interiors seemed just perfect to me. No offense meant to J. G. Jones or Massimo Carnevale, of course.
Shalom.
My mood has dipped considerably, for no discernible reason. As anyone reading or talking to me lately might have noticed, things are going pretty well, and I have been pretty upbeat, especially when compared to how cheerful I usually am.
Likely culprit is, unsurprisingly, lack of sleep. I'm not sure about anyone else, and this is strictly x=1 of me, but insomnia tends to hit me in one of three ways. The first is just neglecting to sleep -- this tends to include getting busy with something and just losing track of time, and usually includes everything from choosing to not sleep, to "forgetting" to sleep [yeah, it does happen]. This first way isn't insomnia in the strictest sense, but I do lose a lot of sleep this way, and like traditional insomnia even when "choosing" to stay up, I rarely feel as though it something within my control. The second way is a general lack of feeling tired -- most people will recognize this as exhaustion but the inability to nod off, when you become easily distracted, your mind seems interested in anything but lulling off, and a great deal of this time is spent staring at the ceiling or the back of your eyelids. Sometimes this manifests with me physically, an itch from having my head on the pillow, a scratchy throat that induces coughing, or feeling like there's something in my eye when there really isn't. This was what hit me this morning, while trying to squeeze in a few hours, though admittedly, it's not the typical offender for me.
More often than not, what I'm struck by is a sort of pre-bed panic attack, the anticipation of, and the exhaustion after, not to mention the extend duration of the panic itself, being the chief reason for being unable to nod off to dreamland. Ironically, it is during these spells I'm most productive -- possibly because sleep typically isn't my goal, calming myself down is, and a lot of my notes and blog entries come from bedside rantings trying to reign myself back under control. Sometimes, it works.
Woke up this morning in the upright position, propped up with my back against the wall, in exactly the same position I remember being in the night before when sleep seemed so far away. Pretty jarring, since there were no dreams [strange for me], and it felt like no time had passed. A blackout? Doubtful, but I have been running on an hour less than usual for the past couple nights, so I suppose it's a possibility. There were definitely a few things done on my computer before I'd slipped off like that, because I don't remember typing what was on the screen upon waking.
Then again, it was mostly gibberish. Entirely possible I was sleep-typing, or I just don't remember the struggle between my brain and body while falling asleep. Worrying about this too much seems ill-advised.
Had a dream I was working with Ron Howard the other night. Weird. I'm not exactly a huge fan, but it was interesting. Very vivid. Strange.
Saw Kyle last Thursday. Justin and Staci took me with them to the movie premiere they were having for this little film they made for one of their professors. It was funny, though I imagine I was missing a few of the in-jokes, but it gave me and Kyle some time to talk about "Trendsetter," and a couple of the other people there chimed in too. It was also nice to share the news with everyone about my possible job, especially since I so rarely have any good news to share.
On producing, I thought I might get a little more informed. I graduated as a writer, after all. Picked up "The Pocket Lawyer for Filmmakers" by Thomas A. Cromwell, and the "Indie Producers Handbook" by Myrl A. Schreibman, partly for a refresher, and partly for self-improvement.
Back to "Trendsetter" for a minute. A friend I met through Glen [don't have many other kinds of friends back here anymore], a really down guy named Ian Nolte, had read the script [that glutton of a short], and had a few thoughts that he shared with me while we were all having dinner. All of it was helpful, especially the note that there was a bit of a separation between the movie's gimmick [the letters], and the film's plot [pretty much everything else], which was particularly striking to me because it has been on my mind a lot lately while doing re-writes, and I have been trying to work the gimmick into the movies plot in some way that really makes it matter. Regrettably, with my decision to take this movie in a less traditional way, and not make it your usual three-act with the weirdness at the center, driving the story, the "trend" becomes like one of Hitchcock's McGuffins. And my fear is that something this expansive might be too big to be a McGuffin.
Ian mentioning it at all makes me feel a lot less crazy for agonizing over it as much as I have been lately. Still a big decision. Seeing a problem and fixing it is hard. Trying to decide if something is or isn't a problem is a lot harder. At least for me.
Ian also called it a romance. He didn't mean it like I took it, but if I'm being honest with my little blog, that's been working on me since it was said. It's difficult to explain, but I always feel like I'm working so hard to get as far away from convention as possible. I can't get away from the subjects I'm dealing with -- connections, misery, relationships -- but the thought of "Trendsetter" in a video store with that little red sticker on the box that says "Romance?" Something to work on. Not a mistake I can let my audience make.
[Paused here, re-read last paragraph, shook my head.]
I'm getting arrogant. "Trendsetter in a video store." Going to Sundance with the closest thing to a male best friend I've ever had. Been thinking, even talking about doing "Un-Filmable" of all things. Thinking about the future -- living... not here, having a social life again. A girlfriend. Seems wrong, like I shouldn't be setting myself up for disappointments. Have plans, do my best to make them work out, but these fantasies are not good things.
One thing at a time.
Going to watch more movies, have to, self-imposed homework to get me on task at putting "Trendsetter" back together. I have a stack of DVDs I've gotten behind on. Last night was "Wristcutters" which hit me just right -- like "Thumbsucker" or"The Royal Tenebaums" did. Dark comedies, with something to say. A structure that doesn't quite fit what all the other movies have. The kind of movies I'd like to make, I guess. Because there aren't many of them, and they're the kind I like to see.
Really striking, hilarious bit in "Wristcutters" that I hate to spoil, but has stuck with me all night. After Zia and Mikal spend a night together, sleeping on the only beach they've found since they "offed," they wake up to find the rocky coast strewn with used needles and condoms. Great image, and they barely gave it to us at all, just a glimpse, enough for the disgust and hilarity. Amazing.
Also? Tom Waits.
Just read all of "Y: The Last Man" this past weekend. Justin handed it off to me, after borrowing it from Ally. Had it on my list of comics to check out for a long time, being a huge Brian K. Vaughn fan, and enjoyed reading it, even if the whole series only took me a few hours to get through. I liked it a lot, whole series was a really enjoyable ride, and I felt good when I finished it. Vaughn's dialogue wasn't as tight in this as some of the other stuff of his I've read though, but the characters were good, with a plot line involving an Israeli solider named Alter really grabbing my attention, and building to a final showdown between her and the main character, Yorick, which actually paid off in the end. Some of the scientific stuff was totally lost on me, as often happens when I'm reading science fiction, but it never bothered me, which was a rare accomplishment.
And there are little things that are still with me about "Y" too -- the beautiful girl with the scar from the church, the looks of rage and indignation on the militia women, the garish, anti-feminist message the removed breast of the Amazons managed to convey while knowing the characters were hoping for the opposite intention... the cover art is what's always talked about with "Y" but so much about Pia Guerra's work on the interiors seemed just perfect to me. No offense meant to J. G. Jones or Massimo Carnevale, of course.
Shalom.
And so begins the Idiot Summer.
Title is a Gin Blossom reference. There's a shocker.
Past two days were hot ones, but I'm acclimating better than I expected. Never been good with hot weather, despite the pilgrimage west that's upcoming. I think I can get away with calling it a "pilgrimage," even though I don't know if it's the proper term for a trip you have no intention coming back from.
Cue "Canterbury Tales" reference here.
Today was busy. Had to go out with Dad, for soda, a new hamper. He had errands too, then we got dinner for everyone [Re: pizza] on the way home. Strange that took up most of the day. Meant to pick up "The Wrestler" on DVD, slipped my mind. Knew I needed a few other things -- legal pads, for sure. Irregular hours are getting to me a little bit... been dozing off closer to nine every morning, and waking back up around noon. Surprised that's been sufficient, but I haven't been feeling tired lately -- only the minor slips in memory, upset stomach. No panic attacks, at least not like usual.
Actually, there might be another reason for that last bit. Blew up about something. Surprisingly cathartic. Certainly don't want to turn into one of those people who has to make a huge scene to feel better about something, but for the moment, can't argue with the results.
Been trying to pick up my room some. Hasn't been cleaned much since moving in -- honestly, short of the bed and the bathroom [both of which are easily tended to], haven't needed to clean much. Just stacks of books and clothes, but somehow, knowing roughly how much longer I'll be here has left me thinking it's time to start using drawers. Before, something about it seemed counter-productive, even though I knew I wasn't going to whisked off into the night to a new location like before. Maybe some of not moving in was denial. I think some was defiance too, after being ousted from my house like I was [pleasantly, but quickly, and still ousted].
Entirely possible some was laziness. Will neither confirm nor deny.
My mind has been on many things the past two days. Finished a book about "Columbine" by Dave Cullen, I'd recommend it, if you have any interest in the subject matter -- I cried once, got pissed off a couple of times, and spent some of the book almost... scared. But it is keenly interesting to me, always has been, and the Columbine shootings have marked a lot of my work, going so far as to make a couple appearances [sort of] in "Un-Filmable."
Also done some brainstorming about other projects, and find myself, strangely, looking ahead. Idle, non-movie talk with Casey has gotten me on another conspiracy kick, and a little bit of Wikipedia here and there have given me a few ideas for a "bible" to a X-Files-like project. Likely doesn't have legs, rarely gotten far with it before, but there is something about taking all these claims and dumping them into a drama. I've always been a big Rod Sterling fan. I also have a copy of "The Octopus" coming in the mail. Probably talk about it more later.
Old ideas seems fresher, too. "Assisted Living" and "Fragile" have both slipped back into my head, even though I haven't given either much thought since I finished first draft on "Trendsetter." I also know a very talented actress, who I don't get to talk to as much as I like anymore, and I promised her once I'd write a movie for her to star in. I haven't forgotten, and thinking of her, and thinking of everything I've done up to now, putting all these stories in a sort post-Christmas, never spring, winter months... I can really see her in one, against that white and gray backdrop. As soon as I have time... maybe she's even Joan, in "Fragile." Maybe there's something else, even better.
I'm really getting ahead of myself. Other things... wrote to Kaley today, really glad she's willing to keep up correspondence. Mean to write to Ian soon, but I understand his internet has been sort of... spotty. Likely, there's no rush.Can't begin to describe what it's like having all these letters back and forth with all these creative people -- I feel a little like Samuel Johnson, if I can take a minute and be so arrogant. God, I've been such a literature student today.
Need to call the girls, have been trying to get Sam. Sent her a text tonight, but as usual, it was a bit late for normal people. Story of my life. Sent some Facebook messages to some people I haven't heard from in a bit, but started thinking about -- Alex, and Genevieve, and Andrew had a birthday recently. I miss his music, from his Solo Project blog.
Lots of music in my head lately. Not sure why, been hearing a lot of Regina Spektor, and Team Dresch when that lets up, and it seems so crisp and clean that sometimes I don't even have to pull up my iTunes to enjoy the songs. Funny I mention that, because nothing ever strikes me as less interesting than when people write in their blogs about the music they've been listening to. I get... embarrassed for them, almost. Isn't that strange?
Dad is going to a friend's birthday party, and wants me to make him some mix CDs, so I'm spending a lot of time on a particular message board, pulling up music I haven't listened to since high school. Could never have swung such a project on the old laptop, and dad got me a few DVD-R's for my trouble. Always up for more storage space, even though I just recently discovered ADrive.com.
Hoping to get out this weekend, and see "Wolverine." Would like to go opening night, depends on if anyone I know is up for seeing it, giving me a ride.
And I should be writing [Re: Trendsetter].
Lots to keep me busy.
Finally, importantly, Justin has some new work up on his blog [Re: Calamity Cash and the Town with No Name]. As always, be sure to check the M.R.C.R.W. Just great, exciting stuff. He's really getting into some of the meaty, action-filled parts of the book, and I feel like every drawing is just dripping with that tension, and anticipation. Definitely worth the look.
Past two days were hot ones, but I'm acclimating better than I expected. Never been good with hot weather, despite the pilgrimage west that's upcoming. I think I can get away with calling it a "pilgrimage," even though I don't know if it's the proper term for a trip you have no intention coming back from.
Cue "Canterbury Tales" reference here.
Today was busy. Had to go out with Dad, for soda, a new hamper. He had errands too, then we got dinner for everyone [Re: pizza] on the way home. Strange that took up most of the day. Meant to pick up "The Wrestler" on DVD, slipped my mind. Knew I needed a few other things -- legal pads, for sure. Irregular hours are getting to me a little bit... been dozing off closer to nine every morning, and waking back up around noon. Surprised that's been sufficient, but I haven't been feeling tired lately -- only the minor slips in memory, upset stomach. No panic attacks, at least not like usual.
Actually, there might be another reason for that last bit. Blew up about something. Surprisingly cathartic. Certainly don't want to turn into one of those people who has to make a huge scene to feel better about something, but for the moment, can't argue with the results.
Been trying to pick up my room some. Hasn't been cleaned much since moving in -- honestly, short of the bed and the bathroom [both of which are easily tended to], haven't needed to clean much. Just stacks of books and clothes, but somehow, knowing roughly how much longer I'll be here has left me thinking it's time to start using drawers. Before, something about it seemed counter-productive, even though I knew I wasn't going to whisked off into the night to a new location like before. Maybe some of not moving in was denial. I think some was defiance too, after being ousted from my house like I was [pleasantly, but quickly, and still ousted].
Entirely possible some was laziness. Will neither confirm nor deny.
My mind has been on many things the past two days. Finished a book about "Columbine" by Dave Cullen, I'd recommend it, if you have any interest in the subject matter -- I cried once, got pissed off a couple of times, and spent some of the book almost... scared. But it is keenly interesting to me, always has been, and the Columbine shootings have marked a lot of my work, going so far as to make a couple appearances [sort of] in "Un-Filmable."
Also done some brainstorming about other projects, and find myself, strangely, looking ahead. Idle, non-movie talk with Casey has gotten me on another conspiracy kick, and a little bit of Wikipedia here and there have given me a few ideas for a "bible" to a X-Files-like project. Likely doesn't have legs, rarely gotten far with it before, but there is something about taking all these claims and dumping them into a drama. I've always been a big Rod Sterling fan. I also have a copy of "The Octopus" coming in the mail. Probably talk about it more later.
Old ideas seems fresher, too. "Assisted Living" and "Fragile" have both slipped back into my head, even though I haven't given either much thought since I finished first draft on "Trendsetter." I also know a very talented actress, who I don't get to talk to as much as I like anymore, and I promised her once I'd write a movie for her to star in. I haven't forgotten, and thinking of her, and thinking of everything I've done up to now, putting all these stories in a sort post-Christmas, never spring, winter months... I can really see her in one, against that white and gray backdrop. As soon as I have time... maybe she's even Joan, in "Fragile." Maybe there's something else, even better.
I'm really getting ahead of myself. Other things... wrote to Kaley today, really glad she's willing to keep up correspondence. Mean to write to Ian soon, but I understand his internet has been sort of... spotty. Likely, there's no rush.Can't begin to describe what it's like having all these letters back and forth with all these creative people -- I feel a little like Samuel Johnson, if I can take a minute and be so arrogant. God, I've been such a literature student today.
Need to call the girls, have been trying to get Sam. Sent her a text tonight, but as usual, it was a bit late for normal people. Story of my life. Sent some Facebook messages to some people I haven't heard from in a bit, but started thinking about -- Alex, and Genevieve, and Andrew had a birthday recently. I miss his music, from his Solo Project blog.
Lots of music in my head lately. Not sure why, been hearing a lot of Regina Spektor, and Team Dresch when that lets up, and it seems so crisp and clean that sometimes I don't even have to pull up my iTunes to enjoy the songs. Funny I mention that, because nothing ever strikes me as less interesting than when people write in their blogs about the music they've been listening to. I get... embarrassed for them, almost. Isn't that strange?
Dad is going to a friend's birthday party, and wants me to make him some mix CDs, so I'm spending a lot of time on a particular message board, pulling up music I haven't listened to since high school. Could never have swung such a project on the old laptop, and dad got me a few DVD-R's for my trouble. Always up for more storage space, even though I just recently discovered ADrive.com.
Hoping to get out this weekend, and see "Wolverine." Would like to go opening night, depends on if anyone I know is up for seeing it, giving me a ride.
And I should be writing [Re: Trendsetter].
Lots to keep me busy.
Finally, importantly, Justin has some new work up on his blog [Re: Calamity Cash and the Town with No Name]. As always, be sure to check the M.R.C.R.W. Just great, exciting stuff. He's really getting into some of the meaty, action-filled parts of the book, and I feel like every drawing is just dripping with that tension, and anticipation. Definitely worth the look.
Recieved Kyle's feedback.
Kyle got me his feedback on the script [Re: The Trendsetter] on... Thursday night, I'm thinking. About five pages, sent over Facebook... not as much as it sounds. Something to work from though, and he's provided a few possible segues to the new content.
Not a lot else to cover. Already heard back from a few people, starting to think more seriously about what's going to fill the script in to feature length. My big worry is going to crazy with it, actually -- there are a lot of open-ended things I put in the first part, and as tempting as it is to tap every vein, I don't want to bleed it to death when all I really need is about 30 pages.
Its difficult to think about being economical when I need pages. There's certainly no rush.
I think my major worry is that, on some level, I might consider "Trendsetter" finished, and because of that, finding stuff to add in will be more difficult. This could work to my advantage, and help strain the aforementioned stupid and unnecessary shit out while I'm writing. But it could just as easily make adding to it even more difficult. And then there's also the whole issue of my never having plugged anything significant into the middle of a story before. In "Un-Filmable" I added one scene, which took place practically mid-coitus -- I mean, I interrupted sex to get exposition dialogue in. And that was purely addressing necessity. Adding to "Trendsetter" is something different, as I'm not just adding extra info, I'm putting in a subplot that will likely masquerade as the main action in the film.
All of this is probably nothing more than jitters at trying to do something I've never attempted before. I'm hoping, with some time, and more input, it'll come much more easily than I expect it will.
I'm also struggling with a really pervasive want to finish, to have something, even if it's imperfect, in the 90-100 page area. This is ridiculous, as I'm no where near ready to start working on it again, and trying now would be an arduous and hateful waste of time. The inspiration, and the flow, is not yet there. And I need to be a little more patient. It'll come.
Shalom.
Not a lot else to cover. Already heard back from a few people, starting to think more seriously about what's going to fill the script in to feature length. My big worry is going to crazy with it, actually -- there are a lot of open-ended things I put in the first part, and as tempting as it is to tap every vein, I don't want to bleed it to death when all I really need is about 30 pages.
Its difficult to think about being economical when I need pages. There's certainly no rush.
I think my major worry is that, on some level, I might consider "Trendsetter" finished, and because of that, finding stuff to add in will be more difficult. This could work to my advantage, and help strain the aforementioned stupid and unnecessary shit out while I'm writing. But it could just as easily make adding to it even more difficult. And then there's also the whole issue of my never having plugged anything significant into the middle of a story before. In "Un-Filmable" I added one scene, which took place practically mid-coitus -- I mean, I interrupted sex to get exposition dialogue in. And that was purely addressing necessity. Adding to "Trendsetter" is something different, as I'm not just adding extra info, I'm putting in a subplot that will likely masquerade as the main action in the film.
All of this is probably nothing more than jitters at trying to do something I've never attempted before. I'm hoping, with some time, and more input, it'll come much more easily than I expect it will.
I'm also struggling with a really pervasive want to finish, to have something, even if it's imperfect, in the 90-100 page area. This is ridiculous, as I'm no where near ready to start working on it again, and trying now would be an arduous and hateful waste of time. The inspiration, and the flow, is not yet there. And I need to be a little more patient. It'll come.
Shalom.
The wind blows through me.
Productivity isn't what it should be. I keep doing pages over and over again [Re: Untitled Short]. Think I know what to do to make it work. Just... not sure I want to do that yet.
I think it's probably the sign of a good writer when he can take on a project, and not invest himself personally in the project -- and I don't mean that in a "able to abdicate yourself of responsibility and feelings" for a project -- that's hacky, and ignores the fact that I actually like this concept, and am attached in a creative sort of way to it. What I'm talking about more is the masturbatory aspect to writing, and the ability to diverge from that, and write about something other than oneself.
In many ways, writing about yourself has a lot pro's. Most writers are relatively knowledgeable about themselves -- how could they not be? -- and many "newly made" writers often find their first success "writing where it hurts," I phrase I first heard on "Daria," actually. Very common in movies, especially -- look at "Clerks," or "Superbad." It is one of the few safe bets in writing, unless you're patently uninteresting or just a crappy story-teller, someone out there is going to be able to enjoy/empathize with your plight, and you've got a winner.
It is also a double-edged sword. For one, the loss of privacy is immense, and rarely can you hide behind the "based on" or "work of fiction" excuses. People aren't idiots, and even when they are, some lies are just never believable. It also means whatever you sit down to write is going to become a part of you, and you're basically scraping at new and old wounds, and trying to find a semi-technical way in order those feelings. Things that are easier when you can distance yourself from a project -- attachment, criticism, I'm sure there are more, aren't there, and while time may help you out from under them, you're now tethered to a project in a way you were never asked to be. And doing that for anyone, a friend, a boss, yourself, it just sucks. I envy the people who are idea-masters, who can write about characters and concepts, and not have them be "about anything" all the time. After college, after Steven Bach, I'm starting to think I don't have it in me anymore.
Which means... violating myself a bit. I think I see why most writers drank. I'm getting there... to the writing, not the drinking. Time for a fresh start.
Occurs to me that finishing "Calamity Cash" more or less proves me wrong, though. I guess not everything has to be personal. Maybe some projects just call for it more. Justin and I were talking about finding a font for the comic tonight [Re: Calamity Cash and the Town with No Name]. I'm going to ask Sam if she's scored anything that looks good that we wouldn't have to pay for. If not, who knows? Justin thinks he'll start the first page tonight or tomorrow.
Other news. Thinking about things... absolutes on lines. If everything could be presented on a scale of one to ten. Like say, in life, there's a the line of what a person can take, and a line of how bad things can get. And maybe for some people, they'll never see a "10" on the how bad things can get line -- some would argue that most don't see anything worst than a "6." And that's really the only line anyone ever looks at, because people tend to be pretty crappy about seeing the line of how much someone can handle. So we'll see someone having trouble with a "5" or a "7" and think, that's bad, but it's not that bad. It's not a "10." How can you get beat by something that's not a ten? But what if on that personal line, the worst someone can take is a "7"? What if what's hard, and what's bad are subjective, but still affective on one another? We're not all strong. Sometimes we fall, and its not as unexpected as everyone thinks.
Got a haircut yesterday. Pretty short. Actually not thinking it was the best decision, aesthetically speaking, but I still kind of like it. Like, it's not drastic, but its drastic enough to make me feel better, like a change was made.
Talked to Kyle. He read "Un-filmable" and was so amazingly complimentary. I'm glad. I'm always mildly worried people will find it a waste of their time, or not their style -- snuff porn and jokes about geeky nigh-pederasty is not exactly high art. But Kyle legitimately seemed to enjoy it, and is excited to see what I do with the short. I'd like to see what I'm going to do too, because what I'm doing now isn't cutting it. It was nice to finally talk to him on the phone too -- put a voice with the guy. I like his enthusiasm. Even if nothing comes of this, it feels important, and that keeps me on my toes. Good things.
The church next door is having a "Judgement House" on Halloween. I'm so tempted to go, even if it's by myself. I mean, that door is wide open for great things, I figure. But I promised myself I'd try and stay available Halloween week for friend, who I said I'd always be there for. Likely she won't need me, but just in case...
It's nearby. Maybe I can do both. I keep wishing I had more cash, a car, and a partner in crime. I'd just try to hit as many as possible, all night long. A handful of ones, and the road. Every crappy Haunted and Judgement House on the river. I'm vaguely reminded of being across the street from live mud wrestling one night with Justin, and not taking advantage -- feels like this is an opportunity in the same range.
Not sleeping well. Isn't helping the writing much either. Lots more panic attacks this week, upset stomach. Hysteria? Hopefully will pass.
Big news? Getting high-speed soon. Will that change the blog, and posting? We'll see.
Thinking of putting up a short I wrote several months back. Not likely to come of anything, but it would be interesting to put up. The same with SULK #2, which Sam and I never made, but I had a full script for. I liked it, even though it wasn't my best work. I'll have to see if it's possible.
Shalom.
I think it's probably the sign of a good writer when he can take on a project, and not invest himself personally in the project -- and I don't mean that in a "able to abdicate yourself of responsibility and feelings" for a project -- that's hacky, and ignores the fact that I actually like this concept, and am attached in a creative sort of way to it. What I'm talking about more is the masturbatory aspect to writing, and the ability to diverge from that, and write about something other than oneself.
In many ways, writing about yourself has a lot pro's. Most writers are relatively knowledgeable about themselves -- how could they not be? -- and many "newly made" writers often find their first success "writing where it hurts," I phrase I first heard on "Daria," actually. Very common in movies, especially -- look at "Clerks," or "Superbad." It is one of the few safe bets in writing, unless you're patently uninteresting or just a crappy story-teller, someone out there is going to be able to enjoy/empathize with your plight, and you've got a winner.
It is also a double-edged sword. For one, the loss of privacy is immense, and rarely can you hide behind the "based on" or "work of fiction" excuses. People aren't idiots, and even when they are, some lies are just never believable. It also means whatever you sit down to write is going to become a part of you, and you're basically scraping at new and old wounds, and trying to find a semi-technical way in order those feelings. Things that are easier when you can distance yourself from a project -- attachment, criticism, I'm sure there are more, aren't there, and while time may help you out from under them, you're now tethered to a project in a way you were never asked to be. And doing that for anyone, a friend, a boss, yourself, it just sucks. I envy the people who are idea-masters, who can write about characters and concepts, and not have them be "about anything" all the time. After college, after Steven Bach, I'm starting to think I don't have it in me anymore.
Which means... violating myself a bit. I think I see why most writers drank. I'm getting there... to the writing, not the drinking. Time for a fresh start.
Occurs to me that finishing "Calamity Cash" more or less proves me wrong, though. I guess not everything has to be personal. Maybe some projects just call for it more. Justin and I were talking about finding a font for the comic tonight [Re: Calamity Cash and the Town with No Name]. I'm going to ask Sam if she's scored anything that looks good that we wouldn't have to pay for. If not, who knows? Justin thinks he'll start the first page tonight or tomorrow.
Other news. Thinking about things... absolutes on lines. If everything could be presented on a scale of one to ten. Like say, in life, there's a the line of what a person can take, and a line of how bad things can get. And maybe for some people, they'll never see a "10" on the how bad things can get line -- some would argue that most don't see anything worst than a "6." And that's really the only line anyone ever looks at, because people tend to be pretty crappy about seeing the line of how much someone can handle. So we'll see someone having trouble with a "5" or a "7" and think, that's bad, but it's not that bad. It's not a "10." How can you get beat by something that's not a ten? But what if on that personal line, the worst someone can take is a "7"? What if what's hard, and what's bad are subjective, but still affective on one another? We're not all strong. Sometimes we fall, and its not as unexpected as everyone thinks.
Got a haircut yesterday. Pretty short. Actually not thinking it was the best decision, aesthetically speaking, but I still kind of like it. Like, it's not drastic, but its drastic enough to make me feel better, like a change was made.
Talked to Kyle. He read "Un-filmable" and was so amazingly complimentary. I'm glad. I'm always mildly worried people will find it a waste of their time, or not their style -- snuff porn and jokes about geeky nigh-pederasty is not exactly high art. But Kyle legitimately seemed to enjoy it, and is excited to see what I do with the short. I'd like to see what I'm going to do too, because what I'm doing now isn't cutting it. It was nice to finally talk to him on the phone too -- put a voice with the guy. I like his enthusiasm. Even if nothing comes of this, it feels important, and that keeps me on my toes. Good things.
The church next door is having a "Judgement House" on Halloween. I'm so tempted to go, even if it's by myself. I mean, that door is wide open for great things, I figure. But I promised myself I'd try and stay available Halloween week for friend, who I said I'd always be there for. Likely she won't need me, but just in case...
It's nearby. Maybe I can do both. I keep wishing I had more cash, a car, and a partner in crime. I'd just try to hit as many as possible, all night long. A handful of ones, and the road. Every crappy Haunted and Judgement House on the river. I'm vaguely reminded of being across the street from live mud wrestling one night with Justin, and not taking advantage -- feels like this is an opportunity in the same range.
Not sleeping well. Isn't helping the writing much either. Lots more panic attacks this week, upset stomach. Hysteria? Hopefully will pass.
Big news? Getting high-speed soon. Will that change the blog, and posting? We'll see.
Thinking of putting up a short I wrote several months back. Not likely to come of anything, but it would be interesting to put up. The same with SULK #2, which Sam and I never made, but I had a full script for. I liked it, even though it wasn't my best work. I'll have to see if it's possible.
Shalom.
Goddammit.
I'm working, I swear [Re: Untitled Short].
Important to remember; I'm building, not breaking. The signs are less obvious until the end. Just ask Jimmy Carter.
Put up a Facebook note about my contact information. Never has a man so loudly and so subtly cried out for help and attention. I don't think anyone would excuse it without feeling this lonely.
Did something selfish tonight. I feel bad already, and need to learn to stop. I tell myself I'll grow out of it. Though I'll likely end up rich or dead first.
Sent Kyle a copy of "Un-Filmable." Thought he'd already seen it. Mildly flattered he'd give me this project without knowing my skill level. I should learn to trust more in my reputation.
More later. Promise.
Shalom.
Important to remember; I'm building, not breaking. The signs are less obvious until the end. Just ask Jimmy Carter.
Put up a Facebook note about my contact information. Never has a man so loudly and so subtly cried out for help and attention. I don't think anyone would excuse it without feeling this lonely.
Did something selfish tonight. I feel bad already, and need to learn to stop. I tell myself I'll grow out of it. Though I'll likely end up rich or dead first.
Sent Kyle a copy of "Un-Filmable." Thought he'd already seen it. Mildly flattered he'd give me this project without knowing my skill level. I should learn to trust more in my reputation.
More later. Promise.
Shalom.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
