Tonight's The Night

Folks, tonight is the staged reading for my thriller, Say A Prayer For Emily Hall. A great deal of work went into the script, and it's through the generosity of The Tank that tonight's even possible.

In related news; no word yet from the New Jersey Rep. However; From the Ground Up company in Los Angeles is moving ahead with their own staged reading, next Sunday. It's the inaugural performance in-residence at their new space, the Lyric Hyperion Theatre. I can't wait to hear what the response is like.

The reaction so far has been positive; and I'm eager to see where the script goes from here. Regardless, after tonight, I'm putting it to bed. Time to move on to my next script; and it's going to be a doozy...

Interesting Thoughts

Right. Well. Rehearsals for Say a Prayer for Emily Hall are moving along nicely. Had a few excellent moments with the cast tonight, who take direction well and are providing... exactly what I'd hoped. It's a wonderful feeling.

Work is going well and has gone well for the last few days. It's been touch and go but I think I'm finally finding a niche there.

The strangest and best part-- something has been feeding my creative side for weeks. I've been brimming with ideas. Since I started this new job, my creative juices have runnethed over. I got the idea for my next big script (and believe me it's a doozy) on the way to work, one morning.

I now have four to five projects that need developing; e.g., writing in full. One at a time. That feels great. It's just going to take time. Hope I have enough to get it all done.

Cheers.

Been A While

Folks, friends, to whomever reads this damn thing... things are going well. I'm working, I'm writing and I'm even dating. (If I didn't need a trip to the dentist, life would be just about squarely terrific.)

Two most significant updates: Work and Writing. I've been working in a production office for six weeks, now. It hardly seems possible that it's been that long, but things are going well and I will presently be going on salary. Woot. There's plenty of room to grow in the company, so as always please do pray.

Secondly (and I confess, more excitingly), the writing... My suspense thriller, Say a Prayer for Emily Hall, has gotten excellent response from everyone who's read it. (This includes complete strangers who have no reason to shield my eggshell-delicate ego.) If all goes well, the show will have a staged reading-- and possibly more-- with a theatre company in Los Angeles. At the same time, I'm hosting a staged reading of my own set for the 26th; and a director has expressed interest in submitting the script to a theatre company of solid reputation. These and other developments take time; but I'm fine with that.

Once the suspense thriller is finally put to bed (and possibly given a new title), I have my next project lined up: A children's story idea that would be pure fun to craft. Still, one project at a time. That's the only way to get anything done.

In preparation for yet another writing endeavor, I've given a great deal of consideration about God; lately. I've taken time to consider precisely what I know or think I understand about God, and finding it to be quite small. I *feel* small. I'd be delighted to discuss religious philosophy at length with anyone who's interested. It's too heavy for a blog. At least this one.

I hope you're doing well. Ciao for now.

*Whew*

I just finished Draft #2 of a script over a year in the making. My first legitimate thriller. Or drama, at least.

It's funny. (Not the script, not very.) The scene that originally inspired the whole script no longer exists. Not in its present (read: better) incarnation. Go figure. I'm delighted that so much change took place between drafts-- shows I wasn't married to the first one, that I was able to accept that things needed changing. It also helps to be friends with smart people of whom one can ask questions.

Now: I need to go back and re-work a few threads of act one, so that choices made in act two do not come as a complete surprise. Don't want to cheat the audience, after all. That wouldn't be sporting. Yes sir, changes need making. Just not tonight. I'm tapped. I'm also unlikely to forget what alterations are due to it-- not before tomorrow, leastways. Also on the to-do list? Giving the damned thing a title.

Nice way to end a three-day weekend. Finishing the script. There's a nice bit of feeling accomplished.

Sweet dreams, folks.

Contributing Factors.

Well. It's been a heck of a week or two. Let's stick to the shop talk for now. I recently finished the first draft of Head Games. I was thrilled, I was exuberant, I was pleased with myself. I sent it to a few friends for their appraisal and the response has been unanimous; more or less. It needs work.

On the road this weekend for several hours, I found time to give the first act a once-over with a red pen and made some notes; aware on some level that the changes I was scratching down to implement later were largely superficial. Cosmetic. They wouldn't fix the underlying structural issues; they wouldn't fix the second act.

Tonight, it may have come to me. Something came to me, whether or not it ends up being any good remains to be seen; but that's why we save in drafts and don't just scrap what we've come up with previously.

Partly to thank was seeing the movie The Comfort of Strangers tonight. (Chris Walken at his creepiest. I couldn't tell if he was trying to do an Italian accent or not. Anyway. Good flick.) It opened my eyes to some interesting couple dynamics.

I'm going to give Head Games an overhaul. Dramatically (heh heh) alter the script. New arc, an added character. Steal a trick from Proof and weave in a scene or two from the past. I feel as if I may have been holding back before. This new draft will be even more complex, more convoluted, and hopefully more satisfying. I also hope that it will sound more like I wrote it. No more holding back. If the new draft sucks; I can always go back in and try again.

That's the news on Head Games. Other scripts of mine are getting some attention, and not from me. Yellow Brick Monologues will be produced in Maryland in the summer of 2009; if all goes well. Dead & Breakfast will be read through here in New York in time to possibly be put up for Halloween.

We'll see! I'm not counting chickens... For now I'm just watchin' em cluck.

Still. It feels great to be working on things. Truly great.

You're Killin' Me, Here

***Spoilers Below for Lost and Battlestar Galactica. You've been warned.***

I caught drift of last night's Lost. In it, the comely young woman, Alex, is held at gunpoint in an attempt to gain leverage over Ben, whom I'm going to start calling the Father of Lies. The guy's a total bastard. Anyway. Bluffing (or one hopes he's bluffing, if he has a shred of humanity to him), he berates Alex as meaning nothing to him; she was little more than a pawn.

Heartbreaking words to hear from your adoptive dad, especially if they're the last thing you ever hear. Alex dies on her knees with a bullet in her skull.

And with that, a supporting female character whose usefulness has come to its apex is brusquely shown the door.

In comics, we call this Women in Refrigerators Syndrome. The character is killed for very little reason; other than to incite the corpse's loved one (aka the protagonist) into action. Their headstone becomes a stepping stone for the plot.

This sort of writing bothers me. It seems unnecessary-- for one thing, there are so many more interesting ways to hurt a character than merely knocking them off-- and an easy way out of having to write for them any longer. I don't like it.

The exact same thing happened to Cally Tyrol last week on Battlestar Galactica. Wife of a recently-realized Cylon; Cally has been sleeping badly and has been growing more paranoid by the day. She ultimately decides to take a walk in space with her hybrid child Nicky. She is stopped at the threshold by another Cylon-in-hiding; and lulled into giving up her child. She does this. It's a poignant, emotionally significant moment that could show Cally still has some marbles and lights a candle of hope that the cylons aren't all bastards.

You literally could not say that sentence out loud (for lack of time) between the moment the baby is safe and the bitchsmack that sends Cally flying. Dazed and confused, she only gathers her wits in time to realize she's doomed and blown out an airlock.

What's this teach us? That some characters are doomed to abuse? In her fictional history, Cally was almost sexually assaulted, placed under arrest, beaten savagely by accident, and exposed to naked, empty space. Twice.

Back to Alex for a minute? Sure thing. The poor girl's death was textbook for unnecessary. If we were looking for an excessively violent gesture to show the mercenaries meant business, they demonstrated that at the end of the episode prior when they wiped out some other characters that had outlived their usefulness (but not by much).

There are other less timely examples, but why belabor the point. I will, however, offer a counterpoint.

I'm writing a comic book miniseries in which some truly awful things happen to the undeserving: namely, superheroes. I was telling Shawna about one such character and her trials; and Shawna said something fascinating. "Wow. You really love your characters." It was meant without sarcasm. I realized she was right.

I do have a great fondness for my characters. If I didn't, I wouldn't be able to inflict such exacting torment; let alone stick around in the narrative to watch them get better.

I don't know. I'm not claiming to have any great point, here.

I just hate to see good material go to waste.

On Writing

It's no secret that I'm a writer. I occasionally even manage to produce something of merit. Hell, my comic is getting published (sooner or later) and a show I put on Times Square brought in a decent dollar amount for a first-time effort.

And something that helped in the writing process? Having someone in mind for the part. Finishing Yellow Brick Monologues, or rather, fleshing it out, involved writing more for the Wicked Witch of the West. I was able to do that after meeting the actress that would eventually play her.

The same goes, in a sense, for the comic. One of the main supporting roles is played (in my head) by good friend and Loose Poisonous Viper, Laura. It helps form her dialogue.

As for my newest script (which is nowhere near done), I've been writing once again w/ Chrysten in mind. The story calls for an intelligent, attractive young woman; which she is. The character also goes a bit mad in the end if I can work it right, and I've seen her pull off some beautiful wickedness. I don't think batshit would be too much of a stretch. Heh.

Anyway. Even with the Oscars on tonight (congrats Tilda Swinton! Congrats Diablo Cody!) I managed to finally eke out Act One, Scene Two. It's a good continuation. Plenty left to do, not that it'll get done tonight.

Still-- that's what is on my brain at present. Thought I'd share.

Progress, Of More Than One Kind

Well, there's a spot of good news; for the first time in weeks, tomorrow is payday and my account isn't flat-empty prior to it. The money will be gone soon enough, bills to pay; but it makes for a pleasant change of pace. Yay employment.

In other smashing news, I finished the first draft of issue seven, last night. Late last night. The juices were flowing and I took advantage of 'em. It felt great to hammer home that last page and send it off to Bill, my editor.

I haven't started in on issue eight. I haven't had the time, of course, but also I think a break might be due-- at least insomuch that I can chip away at other writing projects for a little while. A book idea I've had for ages is just sitting in my hard drive, and sketches that need developing are likewise inert without a bit of elbow grease. Well. Elbow grease so far as typing is concerned.

It feels good to be writing, and to have things to write.

* * *

On another completely different note, Pedro rocks. He calls me up about the most random stuff. The other night he called me to let me know about a History Channel special, The History of the Joke. That is totally something I would have enjoyed. If we had cable, that might be possible!

Anyway. Chris rocks. He went on to regale me with a few golden zingers from the special, and let loose with his hyena-like fountain of laughter after each one. What can I say. I love the guy.

So: A priest, a rabbi and a sperm whale walk into a bar...

The Creative Process

I had three days to myself this weekend; as my current employer acknowledges President's Day. I didn't get any work done. Granted, I was sick as a dog-- but still. No dishes were done, the recycling didn't get taken out, and I didn't manage a lick of work on issue 7 of the comic.

Five minutes after I arrive at work, an idea pops into my brain that bears writing down: it's going into that issue. Not only is it funny, but it also answers a long-posed question (in my mind anyway) about secret identities and/or those little domino masks superheroes wear that are supposed to hide who they are. Anyway. You want to hear the idea, you'll have to pick up the issue whenever it actually gets published.

I had a three-day weekend. Other than raging nausea, why did no real work get done? Why only now, when it's inappropriate to be dividing my attention; do the juices start to flow? It makes no sense.

Oh well. That's writing for ya.

The Week Is Looking Up

*Yawn!* Goodness. Last night was a late one, but for entirely good reasons. Since I started this temp job, piece after piece of All Fall Down has clicked soundly into place. Scribbling notes on my lunch break, jotting down ideas between assignments; it's good to have the creative part of the brain going on all cylinders. It's been a while since that's been the case.

Last night, I was in the zone. I'd planned a scene for the start of issue seven (of twelve), and my fingers had barely touched the keys when I realized the same scene would be dramatically stronger at the start of issue six.

This led to issue six getting an overhaul; trimming a scene that can wait until later; as well as sharpening up a formerly-okay-but-now-quite-good exchange between my heroine and her best friend.

I don't know how it is for other writers; but that moment of clarity where the rest of the room disappears and it's just you and your hands and the keyboard and the screen... last night was the first time I've been able to develop material that wasn't just plodding along, one page after another. This stuff was practically pounding on the inside of my head to get out and onto a page where it could do some good. And it will, boy howdy.

I'm looking forward to what my friend Bill has to say about the new issue six. He's a fair and honest editor, and he 'gets' this stuff implicitly. I think he's gonna be pleased.

I have to attribute this new surge in productivity to finding a (temporary) day job. Having a set schedule, having my time sliced neatly up into compartments between work and home and whatever else has redefined my week. The last month, scrambling around looking for work; I hardly got any writing of substance done. And even when I did, it didn't flow anything like what came out last night.

I'm still looking for permanent work; but this will do fine for now. I'm not saying everything is fine and dandy; but at least my creative juices aren't going to waste. So there's that.

Ciao for now, folks.