The Hive
The official blog of science fiction / horror author Terence West.
William Gibson Blog
Famed author of Neuromancer and Johnny Mnemonic: The Screenplay.
The Word Foundry
Joe Clifford Faust's "blog of a working writer: tracking writing projects, musings on the
creative process, occasional side trips into music, media, politics, religion, etc."
A Writer's Diary
By Cynthia Harrison, who has the good sense to quote Virginia Woolf: "The truth is that writing
is the profound pleasure and being read the superficial."
The American Sentimentalist
"Never has any people endured its own tragedy with so little sense of the tragic." Essays by Mark W. Anderson.
Screenwriting By Blog
David C. Daniel writes a screenplay online. "I've decided to publish the process as a way to push myself through it.
From concept to completion, it'll be here."
SeanAlonzo.com
Official site of occult fiction author Sean-Alonzo, exploring symbolism, alternative
history, philosophy, secret
societies and other areas of the esoteric tradition.
Crafty Screenwriting
Maunderings of Alex Epstein, tv scribe, about life, politics, and the tv show I'm co-creating.
Stealing Heaven From The Lips Of God
Writer & Artist, Dee Rimbaud reflects upon politics, religion, art, poetry, the meaning of life,
the nature of God and why toast always lands butter side down on carpets.
The Writing Life...
"And it came to pass that all the stars in the firmament had ceased to shine. But how was anyone to know?" The Half-Life Conspiracy
Friday, September 30, 2005 Proof A first rate film drama based on the award-winning play. All four leads are excellent. A great film for students to study to learn how dramatic structure is about story strategy, about the order of revealing events to an audience, and not chronology (although most of the time the two coincide). Here, something that happens in the first half of the chronological story is the last act of the film, the resolution, telling us what we need to know. Story strategy.
9/30/2005 07:53:00 PM |
0 comments
TGIF More progress (rewriting) on the road story this morning.
I'd forgotten how much teaching takes out of me. Maybe more each year, as I get older. Mighty glad it's Friday! Maybe I'll see the movie Proof this afternoon.
9/30/2005 10:53:00 AM |
0 comments
Thursday, September 29, 2005 Tchaikovsky Made a tad of progress in my office on the hypertext. Some months ago, after I conceived of this project, I searched and managed to find (at a reasonable price) the hard-to-get, out-of-print English translation of Tchaikovsky's diaries. Obviously this is a major resource for me. I'll be using passages directly throughout the work, linking to them both chronologically and "emotionally" as I build the hypertext. So I have to begin reading them and using my "digital marker" to save passages I may want to include. Or, to be different, maybe I'll record the diary passages as audio files! Get an actor, or play the role myelf (I was a Russian linguist, I should be able to still fake an accent ha ha). That's a nifty idea, link to audio diary excerpts! Hmm. I'll consider it. First, find the passages.
An hour plus before class and I'm running out of steam! I've been working hard in my office all day. Fortunately, most of the class is watching the documentary "The Monster That Ate Hollywood." After that, I have to give my talk about loglines since they turn some in on Tuesday.
The lunch meeting was typical. Trying to explain her story, my colleague went all over the play, and I only began to understand the story after asking direct questions and insisting on short answers (!). And there's a good story there! It was typically hidden in endless talk about back story and other things that get in the way. The first thing to learn and appreciate about screenwriting is its incredibly tight focus. This is a skill one can apply to all forms of writing.
I'm glad I have "off" tomorrow. Have chores to catch up on. I feel like I'm in the groove with my two writing projects now, the road story and the hypertext. Will I ever finish the mystery? I don't know. It's definitely back burner now. I'm so close, I might as well finish it -- but on the other hand, it's pretty low priority now. So maybe during a break down the road, when I have nothing else to do. And I might as well put the first one in my archives. Ah, me.
NYer archive II Just took the virtual tour of the New Yorker archives being offered on DVD. What powerful tools for taking notes, setting bookmarks, searching, etc. I can't help myself, I have to get this. An early Xmas present to myself. Each year, you get an update to cover the past year to keep it current. What a stupendous idea. Other magazines surely will follow. This is fantastic for lovers of the New Yorker. I can't wait to read all of Dorothy Parker's old theater reviews! John Updike's early stories! All of Salinger's stories! What a gold mine.
9/29/2005 02:36:00 PM |
0 comments
Early start Came to my office bright and early and got a ton of rewriting done on the road story, which is now my front burner project. I love this novel, one of the more personal and autobiographical ones I've written.
Have a noon lunch with my colleague about her screenplay. She seems determined to learn the craft, and it's not rocket science and so far her attitude is good.
Will work on the hypertext today as well. I began a short hypertext as well, something that popped into my head the other morning. But Tchaikovsky is my focus in hypertext.
9/29/2005 10:13:00 AM |
0 comments
Mind-boggling 4109 issues of the New Yorker magazine. Every issue from the beginning through February, 2005. On DVD. Details.
9/29/2005 03:22:00 AM |
0 comments
Wednesday, September 28, 2005 What a great idea! M.I.T. computer scientists have developed a $100 laptop for kids. I know some starving artists who could use one, too ha ha. Details.
9/28/2005 03:35:00 PM |
0 comments
Bob Dylan Watched the first part of the new Martin Scorsese documentary on Dylan, "No Direction Home." Excellent most of the time with great film clips and cogent remarks by Dave Van Ronk about the period. However, I have two beefs, one small and one huge.
The small beef: the sequence of musical clips would be confusing to someone not familiar with Dylan's history, especially with regard to his turning electric and the controversy of this in the folk community. Maybe this is covered in part two.
But an incredible and baffling omission: the influence of Ramblin' Jack Elliott when Dylan first hit NY. The kid was even booked as "Son of Ramblin' Jack" in the coffee houses, for Christ's sake. There's one very quick shot of Jack but otherwise no mention. Why?
Twenty years ago Jack's girl friend at the time told me that he was hurt by Dylan's refusal to acknowledge the influence. Not something Jack would admit to. When I interviewed him, he said he quit playing harmonica on a rack because he got tired of people saying he was imitating Dylan when, in fact, Dylan took it from Jack as much as from Woody Guthrie. It was Jack, after all, who lived with Woody before he got sick, Jack that Arlo remembers as "the cowboy" who came around a lot.
Why does Dylan not give Jack his due? Why didn't Scorsese pick up on this in his research and deal with it? There's some of it in the documentary by Jack's daughter, "The Ballad of Ramblin' Jack." According to Jack's girl friend, it really did bother him a lot.
9/28/2005 10:30:00 AM |
2 comments
John Dos Passos The older I get, the more I think "the Great American Novel" is the U.S.A. trilogy by John Dos Passos. It's about time to reread it, too. Does anyone read Dos Passos any more? He is an author who lived so long that the trilogy and other work fell into the public domain (under the old copyright law, you could only copyright for 26 years, renewable only once -- he outlived the 52 years he owned his early work!). In his papers at his death (he was in his 90s) was an outline for a series of many related novels, about a dozen as I recall. Died with his boots on, as they say. He's due for a revival!
Tuesday, September 27, 2005 Office hours Ah, the ritual of office hrs. begins! Got a tad of work done on the hypertext and the road story. Tried to run my screenwriting program from the flash drive but no luck. No problem last time I tried that here, must check out what's wrong.
Got a rewrite of colleague's screenplay. First draft, I lasted one page. Improvement: this draft, I lasted 18 pages. Intriguing sci-fi world but what the story is, who the main character is, I haven't the foggiest. She's buying me lunch on Thursday to talk about it. I know the questions to ask her to find out what her story is -- if she even knows! Often new writers create a world or a concept or a backdrop for a story but actually have no idea what the story is (sometimes because they don't understand what a story actually is).
A student coming to beg admittance into my class. Fat chance ha ha. There's a healthy waiting list. Take your turn in line etc.
9/27/2005 03:23:00 PM |
0 comments
First day of class For me, the new term begins this afternoon. Looking forward to it actually. I'll be going in early to do some work in my office and make myself available if students have questions. Full class, waiting list, most of whom don't have a chance to get in, but those at the time of the list often slip in. I'm supposed to hold enrollment to 25 but often I let it go a few beyond that.
I'm thinking of teaching an 8-week online class in January, basic screenwriting. Seeing if there's sufficient interest.
Have all my work -- the road story, the hypertext, a new screenplay -- loaded on the flash drive, so I can work on anything in my office. Onward.
9/27/2005 09:40:00 AM |
0 comments
Monday, September 26, 2005 Mood You'd think I'd be in a bad mood after the news from my agent. Strangely I'm not. In fact, I'm in a pretty good mood. Why?
I got some good work done on the hypertext today and high art is more exhilarating than low art.
It's warm and sunny outside.
I've received so many rejections in my writing life that they just bounce off me now.
I'm teaching Sideways again this term and the protagonist/writer gets rejected, too.
I've solved the problem in the road story and have energy to return to it (high art v. low art again).
I've gotten better at deluding myself.
I have energy to begin serious research on the epic libretto (high art etc.).
I'm off the hook: the trouble with a series is you have to keep adding to it, and if I got bored with it, I'd have a fine albatross around my neck.
I've gotten better at rationalization.
I'm an old fart who's been through this countless times in 40 years. It's a zero sum universe. Lose a few, win a few.
If I wrote a hit series, I'd have to change the subtitle of my memoir/bio ("the education of a marginal writer").
Good news and bad news The bad news is from my agent: "You know that I myself enjoy and appreciate the book, but it seems that it may not be highly marketable in the eyes of publishers. Even though I'm a fan of it, my enthusiasm does not seem to be shared." This, of course, puts the entire mystery series in question, which suggests the summer of working on #2 may end up being misplaced energy. Ah, me.
The good news is I got a great start on the Tchaikovsky hypertext, finishing two writing spaces.
Ramblin' Jack commercial Someone asked where and when they can see the Ramblin' Jack Elliott car song commercial. I have no idea but it's still playing -- I saw it on prime time last night, I believe on CBS. I've seen it 4 or 5 times and don't watch all that much network TV, so I suspect it comes on fairly frequently. Here's the great part: I can't even remember what car is being advertized! A Nissan maybe? Just the car sporting around with the car song sound track. Pretty cool and I hope Jack is getting well paid. I assume he's still alive!
9/26/2005 09:28:00 AM |
3 comments
Sunday, September 25, 2005 Elliot, a soldier's fugue I was really looking forward to seeing this play this afternoon because I love its concept: three generations in the same family who went to war, gramps to Korea, pop to Vietnam, Elliot to Iraq ... and the 4th character, mom, a nurse, women in their lives. The play runs 90 minutes without an intermission -- and this was fortunate because I may have left. This would have been a shame because I like the last 30 or 40 minutes a lot but the long poetic opening gets repetitive and drags, as if the playwright, Quiara Alegria Hudes, gets too infatuated with her own theatricality and visual metaphors. A damn good hour play is in this excellent material.
9/25/2005 04:40:00 PM |
0 comments
Almost up to speed This morning rewrote chapters 27, 28 and part of 29 -- up to where I stopped on the draft. Need to input into computer, then I'm up to speed on the mystery.
Ready to get back to the road story as well. Some time ago I made a major plot revision, and it ends up this was a mistake. Too contrived and adrift from my central focus. The last book still needs something but I've figured out what will work better, I think -- but now I need to go back and remove the earlier new plot element changes I made, insert the new stuff, and get up to the last book in good order.
I'm also ready to start the Tchaikovsky hypertext. And I've begun a new screenplay.
Loose ends Hope to wrap some things up today. Look at the three scripts submitted to the review. Finish rewriting the mystery up to my last stop point. Make sure I'm ready for the first class, double-checking things. Maybe some yard work since the day is forecast warm.
Saturday, September 24, 2005 Mystery draft Rewrote chapters 25 and 26 today. Only two to go and I'm back up to speed with tighter focus. Onward.
9/24/2005 01:46:00 PM |
0 comments
Stages of a career I feel like I may be near the end of a stage in my career, beginning a new one. Roughly, my career has gone this way:
Desire to be a writer
Learning the craft
Gain validation: selling journalism, publishing stories in literary magazines
Failed literary novelist
Switch in grad school to playwriting after winning a contest
MFA in playwriting
Teaching writing at Univ of Oregon
Move east, stringer for Washington Post, begin acting
Playwright-in-residence, New Rose Theatre: a playwriting career in Portland, getting grants
Sell film rights to play, begin screenwriting, option scripts
Get important commission, refocus on hyperdrama
Hyperdrama on the Internet
Start screenwriting program at PSU, teaching again
Return to fiction, small press novels
Begin writing librettos for John Nugent
propose mystery series, get first class agent
Which is where I am now. I see the new stage being "Oregon Literary Review," in which I give my primary energy to the review, focus on high art projects in my own work to publish here in the Editor's Showcase section, which takes me completely out of the marketplace. The exception is if my agent sells the mystery series. I'm not counting on it but I can deal with it and have fun doing it. But it's the high art focus, and an outlet for it -- the Tchaikovsky hypertext being a perfect example -- that would be new and different.
Screenwriting A colleague at the university in another department wrote a screenplay and asked me to look at it. I tried but gave up after five pages. Hugely, hugely overwritten at every level, far too much description, far too much expository dialogue, pretty much a worse case scenario (I seldom get a student script in this bad a shape). So I suggested sitting down over coffee to talk about the story and to go from there.
9/23/2005 08:52:00 AM |
0 comments
More feedback Ended up riding the bus with a woman with whom I struck up a conversation, and she is university staff. When I told her I taught screenwriting, she said, So you're the popular guy.
Interestingly enough, I have little sense of being popular. I hear more from unhappy students than from happy ones. My class evaluations are always good -- but that strikes me as being about competence, not popularity. So I am surprised when I learn that in some circles I am "popular." (But not many students come to my office hours!)
It's a lovely morning, a fall nip in the air. I love the fall. I love college football. I love raking leaves. I love school starting again. If I have a down term, it's always winter, stuck between the fresh feeling of beginning again and the anticipation in spring of summer coming. But I've only ever had one dismal winter term, so bad that I considered retiring. Then spring was a joy -- and I continued.
I have no idea how long I'll keep teaching. I'm still having fun, is the main thing. And with a new strategy this term, I may want to explore it, develop it, for two or three years. We'll see how it goes. With gas prices the way they are, and bound only to get worse, living in an RV would be much more expensive than we anticipated.
High speed Man, talk about transferring files fast, the university connection does it. I can send a 10M file in less than a minute. But I also have tons to transfer.
New blog I'm starting a new blog: The Writing Life: Audio, with the subtitle "Remarks to young writers." Over the years my Real Audio Screenwriting Tips have been so popular I thought I'd do something similar about writing in general. The site is up, and I should add my first audio file soon.
The van Harriet had a Toyota van when I met her 12 years ago. It was old then. It's 20 years old now and has over 200,000 miles and runs fine. Our second car -- which, truth be told, means I drive it ha ha. At any rate, taking it in to be serviced, which means an early start this morning, which will get me downtown as the city awakens. A nice time of day. I'll drop by a coffee shop and do some rewriting on the mystery. I'll drop by my office at the university and transfer some files to the review's new home, the large musical ones mainly (a faster connection there). It should be a leisurely but constructive morning.
9/23/2005 05:45:00 AM |
0 comments
Thursday, September 22, 2005
Update The review is at about 145M, 34 contributors contributing a total of 302 files. Not sure how large I'll let this issue get but I still haven't heard anything from the poetry editor and have very little from nonfiction and fiction, though these will not take much space. I think a 200M issue might be a good goal post. We'll see how it goes.
I'm behind in my script reading for the review. Maybe I can catch up this weekend before school starts. I like the issue a lot. A whole lot.
9/22/2005 04:02:00 PM |
0 comments
The Flight That Fought Back This docudrama about Flight 93 on 9/11 by the Discovery Channel is a kick in the gut, a challenge to the memory and mind, and finally an inspirational story of how victims can refuse to be victimized. I highly recommend it. More info:
Nice to be wanted In today's email: "I really wanted to take your screenwriting class, but when I went to sign up for it I was told it had been filled since July! I’ve heard that your class is awesome..." Realistically, I think ANY screenwriting class would be very popular because of the times we live in, the age of film. But this does give me a certain job security. I can keep teaching, I think, till I decide to retire, even though I'm on a year-to-year contract. A few years back an ex-TV writer who moved here aggressively sought my job, and I survived. This year I'm especially excited because I've changed my syllabus dramatically (in order, not content) and I have my new pretty textbook to teach from. Anyway, nice to get something like this in the mail.
9/22/2005 08:38:00 AM |
0 comments
Subliminal solution Back in bed, half asleep, I solved the structural challenge of the Tchaikovsky hypertext.
I write hypertext using a powerful editor called StorySpace. If there's a better hypertext tool on the market, I don't know about it. SS creates writing spaces, which you then can link together in various ways.
I'm going to structure my writing spaces in three columns. The central column will be the central narrative thread. The left column will be back story writing spaces. The right column will be miscellaneous writing spaces, including stream of consciousness, monologues, reviews and other newspaper items of the day, music files, and whatever else may be appropriate.
The central narrative writing spaces, then, will link to spaces in the other two columns. The back story spaces will link to miscellaneous spaces and to the next sequential narrative space. The miscellaneous spaces will link to the next sequential narrative space.
I mapped out the story architecture this morning. It looks very workable. I think I've solved the problem, which I've been brooding about for weeks, months. And practically in my sleep, no less.
9/22/2005 08:13:00 AM |
0 comments
God bless software! Up doing grunt editing chores as I prepare the review for its new home. Good software, much of it free, sure makes my job easier. I use it for html editing, link verifying, ftp transfers, spell checking. What would I do without it?
Going to hear a lecture by Cynthia Ozick tonight. Looking forward to it.
One more script to mail out, which will make four this week. That should be the end of it as far as the recent marketing blitz is concerned. I'm doing to do a less frantic marketing of my two most recent scripts while I'm in this mode, posting them at a marketing site. Then it's time to write a new one. Screenwriting is still as much fun as any writing I do. Surely easier than writing a novel! I don't buy into the whining of screenwriters who say they don't get respect. They can't sit at the same writerly table as novelists, as far as I'm concerned. They have a special talent, yes, but it's not a writing talent but a storytelling one. There's a difference. These guys whine all the way to the bank.
At the same time, I do agree the screenplay deserves more respect than it gets.
Less than a week before I enter the classroom! I'm ready, although I still have prep work to do before week three. I'd like to get it done before I start.
I love this new computer. Hope it lasts at least as long as the last one.
What a hurricane season. I was talking to a guy from Guam, who told me about "super typhoons" with winds well over 200 mph. One is bearing down on Guam right now, and he is pissed there's nothing anything about it on the news. He has lots of family there. He says he feels like a second class citizen with so little weather news about Hawaii and the islands on mainstream TV.
9/22/2005 04:58:00 AM |
0 comments
Wednesday, September 21, 2005 Editing A very busy day doing editing chores for the review. I found its permanent home, I think, and I've been transferring files to do a test run, etc. A long way to go yet, with material still coming in, but I don't want to be stuck doing everything at the last minute. Looking damn good so far if I say so myself.
9/21/2005 08:40:00 PM |
0 comments
A hurricane journal
Kat Nesbit, a former student of mine, sent along a diary of her experience visiting the gulf area after the hurricane, making the trip to rescue her grandmother. Excerpts follow:
Tuesday, Aug. 30th
The full extent of the devastation is beginning to sink in as headlines trumpet the news of death and destruction. The photographs are unbelievable. The headlines are callings this, “Our Tsunami.”
I realize now that my grandmother could very well be dead. Her house is only a few blocks from the beach, and the destruction on the news looks absolute... my uncle assures me that the church always picks her up and takes her to their shelter. But I can see the worry in his face and hear the tension in his voice. We leave unspoken our fears-that this time, in the chaos of the approaching storm, she had been forgotten. Or, that with Tim on vacation in Oregon, Grandma might have refused to leave her Akita, Boo. Boo-Boo Bear normally rides out the storm with my uncle, but with Tim gone, the dog that both of them adore would be left in the house alone. We worry that Grandma, in her infinite compassion for animals, had stayed in the house to comfort her dog, who becomes terrified in storms. If she stayed, and the house looks like the debris we are seeing splashed across the newspaper, she’s a goner.
Wednesday, Aug. 31st, 2005
6:00 am
They are saying a twenty five foot storm surge hit Biloxi and Gulfport. The aerial views of the coast show nothing left. Even the highway, only blocks from the house, appears to have vanished into the ocean. Only the shining white of the Biloxi lighthouse remains. I see it as a sign, a beacon of hope, that not all was destroyed. Tim says his house sits on high ground. I remember that it was surrounded by brick apartment buildings that may have protected it from the 145 mph winds. We pray that the water didn’t reach the house if Grandma was still inside.
1:53 pm
I’m sitting in the airport. The paper shows sections of I-10 between Slidell and New Orleans that have sunk into the water, floating away from each other like a child’s blocks in the bathtub. I’m 90% sure that Grandma went to a shelter. I guess the only way to find out for sure is to hurry up and get our asses down there.j I don’t think people up in the Northwest have any idea how bad things really are down there. We are so isolated up here! Except for those directly affected by having family or friends who rode out the hurricane, the entire disaster is completely removed from our lives, even as it has completely, and for some, permanently altered the course of theirs.
Thursday, September 1st
The violence in New Orleans grows worse. Disorder and violence prevail. There is news of rape, murder, thievery. Whispers of looting in Biloxi, but it is all hearsay. Still, my mother called and insisted that my uncles buy ammunition for their rifles and pistol. For better or worse, we’re going armed. The headlines are calling it, “The Worst Natural Disaster the United States has Ever Seen.”
Friday, September 2nd, 2005
Frustrations run high as we continue to prepare for departure. I thought we would be out of here by noon yesterday. I wanted to just load the truck and the car with water, food, backpacks, gasoline and diesel and be on our way, meeting obstacles with our brains and our wits as we encountered them, but my uncle Mike wants certainties in a situation where there are no certainties. He wants FEMA to guarantee the roads are open, he wants to know there are no roving bands of marauders, but the simple fact is that we will know nothing until we get down there.
2:00 pm
We received a call from the Mormon church in Salt Lake City. My grandmother is alive and being housed in a Mormon shelter. We breath a collective sigh of immense relief-the Mormons, after all, believe in being ready for the apocalypse, and we are fairly sure she has food and water. Our worries turn to Boo, who remained in the house. A big strong dog like that ...she should be fine, even if she had to swim for it. Tim worries that looters may have shot her even if she survived the storm. Even knowing Grandma is in a shelter, I worry. Does she have enough medication? Is she taking it? How is she handling the heat? We have read of many old people who died in the heat; we can’t help but worry.
Saturday, September 3rd, 2005
10:30 am The phone lines are up at Tim and Grandma’s house! Or at least, a persistent person on the outside can call in to the house. Beverly, Grandma’s niece, actually reached her. Amazingly, the house is still standing, Grandma is all right and staying in the house, and Boo Bear is also alive and well after protecting the house from looters for five days after the storm. The mood greatly lightened in the “rescue” party, and Tim stopped to buy a generator while I ran into the nearest Kroger’s to buy dog food.
10:00 pm
The first sign is a shredded American flag snapping in the wind. Driving south from Jackson, Mississippi, headed for the devastated coastal town of Biloxi to rescue my grandmother, the evidence of the reach of Katrina reveals itself little by little. After the flag, we begin to see downed trees, at first soldiers fallen alone amongst their comrades, but gradually the downed trees become thicker and thicker, the swathe of the hurricane widening, the power of the wind increasing the closer we come to the ocean. We pass buildings with their windows shattered, then ones with their roofs blown off. We continue our approach. The trees are thick Mississippi jungle on either side of us, all of them either bending heavily inland from the force of the wind or snapped off halfway up their trunks. We begin to see houses completely collapsed, the roofs touching the foundations, and tree trunks with diameters as thick as two feet cracked cleanly twenty feet from the ground, their pale innards white as corpses exposed within their rough black bark, jagged edges reaching to the sky like fields of matchsticks, dead crowns blown away from the rooted stumps that remain. We pass a power line pole that is suspended ominously like a predatory spider only a few feet over the center of the road, held trapped in the buzzing lines that it had once supported. We swerve carefully to the right, crossing under the lines where they are high enough to allow us passage. There are no road blocks. Nobody tried to stop us. We reach Biloxi and begin to pass houses decimated by the floodwaters, shifted on their foundations or completely collapsed. Mattresses lie on the road, plastic bags and clothing flutter in trees at ten or twenty feet above the ground, a testament to how high the water of the storm surge had reached.(In some places they are saying thirty five feet.) We pass an enormous lake of a puddle stretched across the blacktop of the street, the water bubbling up from the middle, presumably a broken pipe or water supplier the origin of the mess. We pull into the apartment building that surround Tim’s house. People who had weathered the storm in their apartments or nearby shelters talk softly from porches or merely glance disinterestedly out their windows at the new arrivals. There is a taste of shock in the air; while those we speak to are cordial, they have a look in their eyes, a certain distraction from the moment they are living in, that reveals something of the emotions they must be feeling to see their hometown so devastated. Amazingly lucky we are. Tim’s house is standing. Though many shingles have been ripped off the roof, revealing the plywood beneath, none of the windows are broken, and no flood water reached the house. Most of the apartments around us are intact as well. A neighbor tells us the wave was headed straight for us but at the last moment the wind shifted and the wave was diverted. A large crabapple tree has fallen on Tim’s pickup, but it sustained little damage. However, the entire 3/4 ton truck was literally pushed a good twenty fee by the force of the wind, so that its bed sticks out of the yard and the tree rests lightly on the cab. Other limbs and branches, some as thick as my waist, litter the yard-but remarkably, all missed the house. We hug Grandma and she tells us that there is a six o’clock curfew. Looting has been bad, but one hundred and twenty pound Boo was able to scare off any would be thieves during the days the house stood alone, and thousands of dollars of electronics and tools remain untouched. We spend the rest of the evening using a chain saw to cut up the crabapple tree and drag it out closer to the road, where it will be picked up by government contract at some vague date in the future. Ice and water are being distributed to survivors from the backs of semi trucks, but they are finished for the night by the time we arrive. We hook up the generator at dusk and collapse into our beds, mentally and emotionally exhausted.
Sunday, September 4th, 2005
We walk down to the beach in the morning. On the way the interior of houses stare at us from gaping holes, walls ripped out from the inside so that looking in, it is possible to simultaneously view the living room, a bathroom, a bedroom, a kitchen. There is what looks like garbage everywhere; in the roads, in the ditches, on the sidewalks, dancing from tree limbs and fences. Here and there, people alone and in couples still pick their way through the debris, perhaps looking for those items that are unreplaceable, photo albums and hand made gifts, perhaps merely curious, or perhaps searching for closure. The private belongings of families are strewn across the beach for all the see. Lives exposed. Mattresses water logged and covered with sand. Children’s toys, cars and dolls, lie in piles in the sand, flung haphazardly at the whim of the storm surge. Tim suggests that we not walk along the beach, in case we find something we don’t want to see. I suggest that we do, in case we find something that should be found and carried away. The human bodies are gone by the time we get there. But bodies still remain; a small terrier dog, its stomach bloated, its eyes misty, with insects crawling from its mouth and anus, is crumpled beside a tire and a plastic bag. A rabbit, a child’s pet, its fur thick with sand, lies stretched alone on the beach. A cat, once a lovely siamese, is curled almost gracefully in a grotesque semblance of life, its nose tucked under a tail, gaping holes where its eye sockets had been. I notice birdcages and dog leashes littered on the beach. I realize that many beloved family pets had met their end in the surging floodwaters, and I wonder how many of their owners had been with them when they drowned. Most people had fled for shelters, but some had stayed, and many had died. I was glad the human bodies were gone by the time I got there. A young woman from my grandmother’s church who had decided not to seek shelter was brought in after the hurricane. She had been clinging to a tree for over four hours. When the tidal surge hit, she watched helplessly as her two children and her fiancé were swept away by the broiling water. My thoughts wander to that woman, her children. Had they been among the bodies left on the beach by the retreating wave? Yet as we walk we also see remarkably normal things. The lighthouse we had seen in aerial photographs does indeed still stand, but the buildings, roads, stoplights that I remember surrounded it have all vanished. A couple walks their dogs, a border collie and some sort of hound, along the decimated street. Workers in orange vests and hardhats swarm amongst the wreckage of the once rich casinos and hotels. I begin to become desensitized. At first I photograph everything, searching for the best angles, the best light, in a strange desire to share this experience with friends and family who are not here, knowing instinctively that I will hardly believe my own memories without recorded proof. But soon I am no longer lifting the camera. I simply walk, taking it all in. The scope of the destruction is too vast. I do not continue to photograph the ripped out guts of museums and hotels or enormous live oaks ripped out by their roots because there is just too much of it; it is no longer remarkable, no longer newsworthy. I imagine what it would be like to see Portland, my home town, the place I was raised and the keeper of thousands of precious memories from my life, destroyed the way the gulf coast communities have been destroyed. But I can hardly comprehend it. Things that normally would seem shocking have become ordinary; we are stopped and given a flyer advertising an important meeting at the local morgue, where friends and relatives are encouraged to drop by and list identifying marks on missing or dead loved ones; tattoo's, scars, piercings, etc. We in turn spread the word to those we meet, chatting pleasantly with people about damage to houses and cars and then waving the flyer, titled, “Urgent Notice” in their face and asking, “Is this relevant to you?” We pass the flyers out and ask them to spread the word. One man says casually, “Oh yeah, I know someone, my friend Reggie Oswald. He done floated away.” He says it with apparent nonchalance, but he turns away from us for a moment as he speaks. When he turns back his face is carefully composed. He takes the flyer and thanks us, walks away without looking back. Not everything is gone. A two hundred year old hotel in the heart of downtown remains standing, shielded by the lee of an enormous concrete building. Mary Mahoney’s, my Grandma’s favorite cafe, stands nearby, gutted but rebuildable. In fact, in the bright light of sunshine it is easy to picture the streets as I last saw them six years ago, when I visited my uncle at his Biloxi home. We talk softly as we walk. My uncles think it will be rebuilt within a couple of years, and to my surprise, this isn’t hard to imagine. The utter devastation we expected from the media reports is not the reality of the situation... while the damage is catastrophic, it is not unfixable. It is amazing what we take for granted. Every few blocks we pass trucks distributing water and ice, people walking away with their arms full, saying gracious thank you’s over their shoulders. I am surprise by how thoughtful people have become... we pass one young black man, walking with his arms full of empty milk cartons. Tim asks him if he needs water, offers to drop some off at his house. The young man shakes his head, and tells us he plans to fill the cartons with water from a leaking hydrant, untreated, to be used for bathing. He says he doesn’t want to use the “good” water to wash, in case others need it for drinking. He flashes us a cocky grin, “I’m just makin’ the best of it, just tryin’ to make the best of it just like everyone else.”
…
Monday, September 5th, 2005
7:00 am
The precise whop of helicopter blades has become almost a constant the past few days. It was the first sound I heard this morning and the last sound I heard last night. Fred and I also heard what may have been gunshots late last night; however, it m ay also have been the transformers on the power lines popping as the rain began to fall, the water pushing the electrical current over the edge of what the already overloaded transformers can handle. This apartment complex is the first place in the whole city to get electric back. Most of the town still does not have water or electricity-which means no air conditioning, no plumbing. We thought they were going to bring in portable toilets, but the only toilets we found on our walk yesterday were set up downtown, in the areas of the worst devestation. I guess everyone else is going in yards, behind bushes, or in their toilets, which fill with waste.
8:00 pm
For the first time in my life, guns are a natural, in fact invisible, part of the household. By “invisible” I mean that nobody pays much attention to them, they are not a source of comment or excitement; a pistol lying on the dining room table, a rifle in the trunk of the car. Yet we brought them, and the ammunition that goes in them, for the express purpose of defense. I’ve never been anywhere in my life where we thought we might actually need to defend ourselves. I feel quite safe though. The people of Biloxi do not seem violent, nor joyful, nor anything. They walk the streets as though in a daze. A fight breakes out in the street. A large crowd, a woman’s chilling scream, “Stop! Stop! Stop!” I watch from our yard. The fight breaks up quickly, and nobody appeared to be in need of medical attention, so with relief I go back to what I was doing. Tim’s only comment is that tensions run high in the heat. The heat sucks the vitality and soul out of us. It is so hot that we drink constantly and are always thirsty. By noon I feel drained; not overheated or exhausted exactly, but as though my eyes are glue in my head and I am moving very, very slowly. I pity the people who have no air conditioning to escape to. A spontaneous game of football breaks out in the street after lunch. Young men holler enthusiastically and the ball rockets through the air. For a few minutes everything seems back to normal, and then as quickly as the game began the group vanishes.
…
We are trying to find tarps to put over the holes in the roof, the hardware stores are sold out. We are told that FEMA is supposed to supply tarps and other emergency building supplies to people whose homes have been damaged in the hurricane, but FEMA’s presence here is non-existent. We ask relief workers from every organization we pass; the Red Cross, the Salvation Army, a Lutheran church, police officers, uniformed army and national guard, where we can find the FEMA distribution locations, but NOBODY KNOWS WHERE TO FIND FEMA. We are told the same thing at each stop: we need to call FEMA. We are given phone numbers for FEMA everywhere-in the paper, on the radio-but the irony is, nobody in the area can call out. We can’t call FEMA, or anyone else. The ridiculousness of the situation frustrates me. It is absurd! …
One the other end of the spectrum, the rescue workers, volunteers, and private organizations are doing wonders. Despite my frustration, I am convinced that most if not all of the people in the area now at least have access to canned foods and breads, water, and ice. There are shelters set up at fairly frequent intervals along the roads, and the workers consistantly give warm smiles of encouragement and support, asking if they can do anything to help or if we need anything they can give. Luckily for us, we do not need what they can give us. By luckily, I mean, we have food, water, and shelter. The failure of FEMA is unbelievable, their lack of presence in this disaster zone shocking. My uncle Tim’s comment is, “I think you can find FEMA where the unicorns graze. I think it is a mythical organization.” Finally we find tarps at Lowe’s. We spend the evening nailing tarps to the roof, finishing just after dark. Exhaustion is setting in. I’m as tired as I’ve ever been in my life.
Tuesday, September 6th, 2005
The whole area around us reeks worse with each passing day as the chicken and seafood in local stores and distribution centers rots. When I first smell it, it makes me nauseous, but the nausea passes within a few minutes. We still can’t use the water from the pipes. I woke up with a sinus headache this morning and have gotten increasingly ill throughout the day, with aching joints and a feeling of lightheadedness. If we were to have a true emergency, we would be shit out of luck, because we have no way to call for help and probably no-one to call even if we did have a phone. Tim’s friend’s wife is a nurse working in the hospital. She said the body count is nowhere near accurate-it’s far worse than the reports are saying. Also, people who came to the hospital for “help” tried to take it over and had to be forcibly contained.
…
Wednesday, September 7th, 2005
In America we grow so used to seeing scenes of destruction in the news, on movies, all around us. But always when the movie ends or when we turn off the television, the catastrophe is over and we can go back to our normal lives. Not this time. We see it every day, every hour. We are living in it. It becomes almost monotonous, but it is that very constancy that is at last driving home the realness of the situation and provoking an emotional reaction out of me. I can’t turn this off, and it doesn’t end. But is is getting better.
A precious moment Taking the dog out this morning, I passed a spider web that sparkled like diamonds. By the time I rushed back with my camera, the light had changed -- and this was the best I could do. A precious, lost moment. (Click for enlargements, which look much better.)
9/21/2005 09:09:00 AM |
0 comments
Good start A good start this morning, rewriting chapter 25, which was in pretty good shape for a change.
9/21/2005 07:59:00 AM |
0 comments
Tuesday, September 20, 2005 Banjo health Next to my desk, leaning against the bookcase, is my Deering Goodtime 5-string banjo. Now and again -- waiting for a download or upload to finish, fighting away the blahs, or for no reason at all -- I pick it up and pick a little. I always feel better afterwards. I also need to learn some new tricks on the sucker. I have a book I keep threatening to study to such an end. Maybe this year.
Productive day Got a lot done today, albeit mostly prep stuff for school, but stuff that had to be done. Not finished but made good progress. I'm ready for next week, almost.
What's in a number? Sales of Screenwright have picked up considerably since I lowered the already low price of $35 to $25. There may be some magical threshold I crossed in the minds of consumers. As I said before, I've never been successful in marketing this as "software" rather than "ebook," even though very very few ebooks are written in hypertext. At any rate, it's nice to see the 8 year-old product moving well again. I still prefer it to all my print versions of the same material -- three now, Screenwright: The Craft of Screenwriting, What Happens Next? and the recently released Practical Screenwriting. All have the same table of contents but minor variations in material, usually with regard to examples used. I'm using the latter for the first time in class, and it looks so pretty I look forward to it.
9/20/2005 01:09:00 PM |
0 comments
Moving right along Rewrote chapter 23 this morning, 5 to go to “catch up.” An improvement, still not quite right, but enough to get through the first draft, I hope. Then the real work, and the real fun, begins. This draft is not as “close” as with the first in the series, no doubt because my plot is more convoluted and the subtext more ambitious. But I still am optimistic I can pull it off.
3 more scripts to send out this week, 2 of the drama, 1 of the thriller; requests continue to trickle in. The response, while not great, isn’t so bad after all. Just not immediate. And, of course, the thing we always tell ourselves, “all it takes is one.”
I look forward to my next two projects, the hypertext and epic, since they are so non-commercial! Well, the epic can be if John writes great music for it, as he no doubt will. But the hypertext has no commercial value whatever. Arty projects have their advantages in mental health ha ha.
Taking my syllabus in to be copied today. Still lots of prep work to do, looking at Sideways (novel, script, film) closely again. Have only taught it last term, so lots to learn yet for me.
Monday, September 19, 2005 In the mood for a joke? An old Cowboy sat down at the Bar and ordered a Drink.
As he sat sipping his Drink, a young Woman sat down next to him.
She turned to the cowboy and asked, "Are you a real Cowboy?"
He replied, "Well, I've spent my whole life, breaking colts, working cows, going to rodeos, fixing fences, pulling calves, bailing hay, doctoring calves, cleaning my barn, fixing flats, working on tractors, and feeding my dogs, so I guess I am a cowboy."
She said, "I'm a 'Lesbian'. I spend my whole day thinking about Women. As soon as I get up in the morning, I think about Women. When I shower, I think about women. When I watch TV, I think about Women. I even think about Women when I eat. It seems that everything makes me think of Women."
The two sat sipping in silence.
A little while later, a man sat down on the other side of the old Cowboy and asked him, "Are you a real Cowboy?"
Wagner John Jarvis, the creator of StoryCraft (which I consider the best story development software on the market) just completed an ebook on Wagner called The Wagner Companion, and I didn't have to twist his arm too much to get him to let us publish some of it in the review. The music section grows impressively - it may well end up being the strongest section of the review, which is great since most journals ignore music. Meanwhile I am three scripts behind on reading submissions … something else I need to get to. Suddenly I am very busy and already miss staring into the eastern Oregon vastness of empty space. 9/19/2005 03:46:00 PM |
0 comments
Grunt work city A very busy day of necessary chores, preparing for my class next week, editing for the review, still catching up on email. Did manage to rewrite one chapter of the mystery. Will try to do one a day and get back to where I stopped by the weekend. We'll see how it goes.
9/19/2005 03:15:00 PM |
0 comments
Sunday, September 18, 2005 Where the hell are my apples? Every year at this time we come through the forest to feast on the rotting apples in the orchard -- but this year the orchard is gone! What kind of hospitality is this? You expect us to feast on the dirt that's replaced all the apple trees? What's with your species anyway? There was a great bounty here! Grand feasting for us, a magnificent view for you. If it ain't broke, don't fix it.
9/18/2005 10:27:00 AM |
0 comments
Reflections on the trip We began our recent trip as so many trips begin by driving east out of Portland along the Columbia Gorge. I can’t drive here without thinking of Woody Guthrie’s songs about the river. This comes up in my novel-in-progress, Kerouac’s Scroll, since my two old men begin their trip the same way:
After breakfast we quickly picked up the Columbia River and headed into the most beautiful section of the Columbia Gorge. When we had driven along the river for a while, Hooker suddenly yelled out, “It's a big river!” and started laughing like hell. I grinned and nodded. The line was from Ramblin' Jack Elliott's version of Weedy Guthrie's Talkin' Columbia, which was on a record I played endlessly through the 1960s. Ten miles later, just because I felt like it, I said, “It's a big river. My, oh my.”
Orofino, Idaho, was Dick’s home town (Hooker above is patterned after Dick, the narrator after me) and my introduction to “God’s country” and all its mythology and romance. I explain it this way in my short story “The Idaho Jacket” (Roll of Honor, Best American Short Stories 1974):
I'm a city boy and the poker game fits right into the romantic Idaho landscape. When I set Orofino against Los Angeles, I can't comprehend Buck's complaints that Idaho is getting too "civilized," that Idaho isn't the same country in which he grew up, that the hills have been stripped of timber. To my eye, the hills around Orofino are covered with more trees than I could find in all of Southern California. And the Clearwater River is getting polluted, Buck complained, and yet the Clearwater is, yes, the clearest river I've ever seen. Too many people moving in? Into Orofino! How many could even find it on a map? For me, Richard, to enter Orofino was to step into a page from the journal of Lewis and Clark.
The older I get, the more my life and work seem to come from the same whole cloth. All the smaller pieces feel like chapters in one larger work. A body of work, I suppose it’s called. Since I have no close family and have outlived my close friends, “the body of work” is more or less “it” in the architecture of my life, what connects past to present, what moves present into the future. I write, therefore I am, which appears to be my existential mantra in this last act of my journey here. At least I mostly enjoy the scenery.
I am very eager to get into the fall routine of writing and teaching. Still busy and grunt work to prepare for this, which I should be able to take care of this week, and then we begin. I am eager to finish the current drafts and move on to new things while polishing the old.
I am still wrestling with the structure of my Tchaikovsky hypertext. In hypertext, structure is everything: if I begin with the wrong organizational principle, everything will go to hell fast. I know I want to write the story in vignettes taking up one computer screen each – very short, in other words. The question is how to define the hyperlinks. I think most will be in the body of the prose, with perhaps a “continuous” at the end of each vignette. I want to organize this so there isn’t too much repetition from alternative paths through the work – always the challenge in hypertext. There is considerable controversy concerning the circumstances of his death and I don’t plan to take sides with one theory over another but retain the ambiguity while dramatizing the possibilities. I have a notion of adding a musical soundtrack written by John if he is up to it.
I’ll be ready to start this as soon as I commit to a structure, which is to say, as soon as I decide on how to arrange the hyperlinks. I’m also ready to re-read the source material for my epic libretto.
So the fall will see five projects: continue the two drafts and begin rewriting, continue putting together the review, begin a draft of the hypertext, and begin research for the epic libretto. This, with teaching, ought to keep me busy ha ha.
9/18/2005 08:16:00 AM |
0 comments
Still catching up Have almost dealt with all the email that piled up while I was gone. That's the biggest catch-up chore.
Awaiting me was a new toy, a digital recorder. Very slim, powerful, quite useful. I'll take it everywhere. Can upload to computer, so I may be adding audio to my blog or even start a new entirely audio blog, haven't decided. The learning curve was a tad steep for me but I think I have figured out the options I'll be using.
Not sure when I'll get back into writing rhythm. This week the priority is preparing for my class. Making some major changes in my syllabus. Really looking forward to using my textbook, the "commercial" version, which looks so much nicer. It's really not any better, just looks better.
Lots of energy and enthusiasm for the new term! Have a waiting list of folks wanting into class, usually a few don't show up and some on the list get in.
Saturday, September 17, 2005 Catching up Still catching up on various things that came up while we were gone. Should be ready to start fresh on Monday. I hope.
9/17/2005 09:50:00 PM |
0 comments
Friday, September 16, 2005
Friday's adventure On the way home Friday, explored the John Day Fossil Beds and the Thomas Condon museum. More spectacular country! Coffee break in Condon, high wind area where "wind farms" are everywhere.
9/16/2005 06:33:00 PM |
0 comments
Wednesday's adventure Got into Weiser, Idaho, late Tuesday and got a motel. Wednesday we went onto John Day, Oregon, and rented a tepee on the river. Great country! Took a hike -- and the path dead-ended at a barbed wire fence. Along the way, passed a, well, art object.
9/16/2005 06:22:00 PM |
0 comments
Tuesday's adventure Monday we drove 7 hrs straight through to Lewiston. Began Tuesday taking the Snake River walk. Then to Orofino to visit my late best friend Dick's mother in a rest home, and from there south to White Bird where Dick was put to rest.
9/16/2005 06:12:00 PM |
0 comments
He's back! Not sure I'll get anything posted today about our trip -- but home safe and sound. C.
9/16/2005 05:49:00 PM |
0 comments
Monday, September 12, 2005 The end of summer My break from work that begins today marks the official end of summer as far as my routine and rhythm go. How did it go?
I began with three goals in the best of worlds: finish a draft of the mystery, finish a draft of the road story, and finish the chamber opera libretto in a draft John can use. I accomplished the latter. In the road story I discovered a flaw in the last of three parts, stewed about it for over a month, and recently solved it. I wrote 300 pages of the mystery draft, of about 400. So, although I didn’t reach all the ideal goals, it’s been a very productive summer. No complaints.
A breather now – and I return to the school year, which begins in two weeks. I have a lot of prep work to do. I’ll continue work on the two drafts. And I have two new projects to begin, plus continuing to get the review ready for its premier. A busy fall!
The more I have to do, the more I get done. No complaints.
I really need this break. When I turn the computer off this morning, I don’t expect to turn it back on until … well, for a while, which typically means a few days.
Sunday, September 11, 2005 Last minute request Just got a request for my thriller (4th request, no great shakes but better than nothing or less), in time for me to print it tonight and get it off tomorrow before I stop checking email.
9/11/2005 09:37:15 PM |
1 comments
Twas the night before… Taking a break for a few days, which means getting away from the daily routine. No email. No PC, though I’ll have my AlphaSmart. And a book to read. Just a change of rhythm to restore the battery before entering school mode in a serious way.
Meanwhile I got through chapter 21 on the rewrite today. 8 more to fix before I move forward into the last stretch. Surely I’ll have a draft done before Xmas. Eager to get back to the road story, now that I know what I need to fix in the last part. This also means what I set up in the first part is all wrong now – but actually easy to fix, just time consuming. I am eager to get back on track with that.
Perhaps most exciting of all, once school starts I can begin on the Tchaikovsky hypertext and the epic opera in a serious way. These two projects really excite me.
And, of course, getting the review ready for official release. Harriet got some great photographs today. She also is thinking of doing a video of her art wall for her Editor’s Showcase piece! I hope she does.
My electronic screenwriting tutorial always has been an extraordinary value at $35. Strictly speaking, it is a software product, not a book per se, and comparable software costs over $100. Anyone who has reviewed the product understands this. However, the public apparently thinks of it as an electronic book, most of which are just digital forms of linear print books. Screenwright, however, is written in hypertext. It is most assuredly not a linear book! I do things in it that simply can’t be done in a linear book, which is why I’ve always preferred it to the three book versions that have come out of it, the most recent being Practical Screenwriting. At any rate, sales have dropped over the years so recently I decided to drop the price to $25 to see what happened – which makes it a steal, in truth. It worked. Sales improved dramatically. Maybe if you think of it misguidedly as a book and not a software product, $25 sounds more in line with the competition. I don’t know. But it’s nice to see it selling again.
Ramblin’ Jack My all-time favorite folksinger, Ramblin’ Jack Elliott, is featured on a current Nissan TV ad singing Guthrie’s “Car Song.” I hope he’s getting good royalties from it. His daughter’s documentary, “The Ballad of Ramblin’ Jack,” is a must-see if you missed it.
9/11/2005 12:02:20 PM |
1 comments
Another try Only thing wrong is I lost my title … but I can do that in Word as well. Pretty cool.
9/11/2005 09:26:00 AM |
0 comments
While I’m testing “toys,” here’s another: I’m writing this in Word, testing the new Word blogging tool, which lets me write and publish from here. The digital world keeps getting more inter-connected.
I am going to get myself a digital recorder so I can make audio notes to myself through the day. Gives me someone, or something, else to talk to besides my dog ha ha.
Stats Internet stats are a fascinating thing. One never knows quite what they mean. Spikes are especially interesting. Yesterday, for example, my play Famililly, which typically has maybe 4 or 5 accesses a week, had 80 accesses in a single day. What is this about? Some robot gone mad? A class assignment by somebody? Who the hell knows.
Meanwhile, over the hump in the rewriting, I think, though I still have a lot of work to do on chapter 21, which I hope to take care of today.
Only a couple things left to do in my great office cleaning. I'll start the term with a clean, orderly office!
9/11/2005 05:57:00 AM |
0 comments
Saturday, September 10, 2005 Working despite myself Managed to do another rewrite of the difficult transition chapters, 16-18 ... I think I can move forward now. Almost a dozen more to rewrite before I enter new creative territory.
9/10/2005 01:55:00 PM |
0 comments
Friday, September 09, 2005 Crash Watched the Paul Haggis film for the third time on DVD tonight (having seen it on two consecutive days in the theater at first release) -- it's one of those films that gets better each time you see it. I still have trouble with the ending (not its action but its "resolution by pop song" that has become so standard in TV drama) but everything else I admire greatly. Here are some related links.
Running out of gas? No rewriting done today ... some editing chores, cleaning my office, errands, lots of excuses. I may have run out of steam for the summer. I didn't get the draft done but I am over half done, maybe as much as 3/4, so it was a good summer. Now I think I need a battery charge, school to start, and a return to my academic/writing routine. First, a short vacation!
9/09/2005 06:51:00 PM |
0 comments
Mailing a script? If you send out screenplays or stage plays and haven't used the recent flat rate envelope, check it out. Standard rate $3.95 for priority mail and a bound script just snuggles into it. Pretty nice.
9/09/2005 08:53:00 AM |
1 comments
Perspective Woke up this morning and windows wouldn't boot on my new computer. I thought, oh great, just what I need, a screwed up new computer! Then I caught myself. Wait a minute. I'm dry, fed, rested, have a roof over my head, don't have to wade in a sewer ... who the hell am I to bitch about anything? So I calmed down, went to support on my wife's laptop, went to trouble shooting, found what I might need, came back to my computer, followed the instructions, and in no time I identified the peripheral that was causing the problem, unplugged it, and I'm off and running -- and actually it was something I don't really need any more anyway since the new computer has the drive built-in. So I should be okay.
Thursday, September 08, 2005 Over the hump? Got through what has been the hardest section to rewrite. Not perfect but improved and close enough to move forward and come back to it the next rewrite. Glad I got this taken care of, it must have been bugging my unconscious, that this section needed so much fixing.
9/08/2005 09:33:00 AM |
0 comments
Wednesday, September 07, 2005 Rewriting In a section of the draft requiring heavy rewriting, so the progress is slower. But after this section, I think I'll have pretty free sailing. Would like to start next week ready to begin the final section.
9/07/2005 02:43:00 PM |
0 comments
Art Wall progress Harriet continues to build the art wall, and the housing development continues in limbo.
We're not getting our evacuees this week -- and maybe never. Here's a thought. They converted an abandoned school into a housing center for 1000 folks, with cots and supplies, etc. There are over 1000 homeless in Portland. Would Pdx put its own in there? Not a chance! Other people's misery is also more attractive than one's own.
9/07/2005 12:22:00 PM |
0 comments
Tuesday, September 06, 2005 A modern producer! Just heard from a producer requesting the script of my thriller -- as an attachment. This, which makes it so much easier for everyone, is rare in my experience. How refreshing! As editor of the review, I don't know what I'd do if I needed to deal with hard copies of everything. The stuff I want to take time with, I just print out myself.
9/06/2005 06:27:00 PM |
0 comments
Halfway Halfway through the rewrite now -- and I have my enthusiasm back, which is essential. I felt lost there for a while but once again I see how the pieces are fitting together. Everything I see wrong is fixable, so I continue ahead. Want to finish the rewrite this week.
The grind begins Today, or I should say this afternoon, I put on my professor's cap and start thinking about the new term.
In the meantime, ten chapters into the rewrite. Issues of tone and pacing but I'm improving both and moving forward.
Marketing blitz of my romantic drama was a total bust, it appears. Only one script request. The more recent blitz of a thriller begins on a more encouraging note -- an agent not accepting new clients was so taken by the pitch that she wants to see the script anyway. Sign of a good pitch. (My book agent doesn't handle scripts.)
Took more or less a day off yesterday, went to an art festival, a nice lunch out. Time to get into high gear again.
9/06/2005 08:17:00 AM |
0 comments
Sunday, September 04, 2005 Reading and rewriting I'll begin chapter one of the mystery today, reading and rewriting, taking notes, and I look forward to it. This is the enjoyable part of the process, not the first time through. This is when you can make it good. I should be able to average five or more chapters a day and be done in a week. Then on to the ending!
9/04/2005 07:40:00 AM |
0 comments
Entering the marketplace From time to time I hear from a certain former student who strikes me as someone who will make a career in film. He is persistent, serious, dedicated -- and patient. About a week ago, however, I rec'd an email of distress from him. After 4 or 5 scripts, he'd decided to enter the marketplace, following the strategy outlined in my course and book(s). Initially thrilled because he had a number of requests for his script, he now was panicked because an agent had written him that, while his story was good, his script was poorly written -- and even wrongly formatted! Would I look at a few pages and tell him what was wrong? Of course. You can evaluate format and rhetoric with only a page or two, it takes that little to tell if a script has a professional presentation. He sent the pages and there were only two very minor problems that a purist might jump on. I looked at the agent's website -- and aha! This so-called agent really was in the business of selling "how-to" material. Forget him, I told the former student, and carry on. Well, yesterday came an ecstatic email. A producer had taken the trouble to write them that, while this particular story was not was his company was looking for, the script was so well crafted that they welcomed future work from him. This is how you start networking.
Alas, some poor writers, not having an ex-teacher or someone to go to, may believe the rubbish from agents or producers who really are after your money. Moral: if someone is selling something, beware!
9/04/2005 07:32:00 AM |
0 comments
Friday, September 02, 2005 Change of strategy I've decided my narrative has become too disjointed -- so, as I did at the 100 and 200 page marks, I am printing out my 300 pages of mystery draft and doing a rewrite to tighten focus and clarify the last movement of my story. I should be able to do this in a few days, week at the most. Feeling too insecure, if that's the right word, to bully forward as I had wanted to. The subplots especially bother me -- they've either been forgotten or are not contributing enough to the central thread. The narrative unravels somewhere along the line, and I need to fix it.
9/02/2005 08:40:00 AM |
0 comments
Thursday, September 01, 2005 Editing chores Spent most of my time today on editing chores for the review, mainly on a musical about the Rosenberg trial we're publishing, adding to our already very strong musical and drama sections. I have two scripts recently submitted I have to read as well, both interesting enough in concept to pay attention to. I'm beginning to worry about issue two already ha ha -- I mean, we'll be a hard act to follow! But I suspect once folks see it, they will want to be in it, so we should get even more quality work. Onward.
9/01/2005 08:37:00 PM |
1 comments
Coming What the CD/DVD edition of the review may look like.
What a tragedy in New Orleans. How fragile the human fabric, how quickly some return to our beastly roots. Others, of course, rise to the occasion.
9/01/2005 07:50:00 AM |
1 comments
_The Writing Life