Say Wha?

The LA Times has a fun article on famous movie lines and those that wrote them.

There's a common debate about which should be given more weight when writing a screenplay - images or words. It's true that films are a visual medium. If it's words that are really important to you, be a novelist. On the flip side, people don't often go around saying, "Remember that smash cut in Planet of the Apes when the apes saw Taylor shaving? I really felt the significance of that moment." But think of how many times a day we quote movies, tv shows, stand up comics, even video games (some of my dearest memories of my first university were those lunches I went to and spent the entire time listening to my guy friends quote Red v. Blue to each other. "I'm from Iowa." Nobody cares!).

I was reading an interview, I think with Kevin Smith, where he said he wanted to write a movie that teenage boys everywhere would quote alongside their regular vernacular. Is there any other real pinnacle of success besides hanging out at a grocery store, the beach, Starbucks, and overhearing some stranger quote lines you wrote?

Really, you should be making all aspects of your story the best they can be. I think the crux of the debate is the question of which has the greatest power to communicate. Knowing which will serve your story best at every given moment, page, and line is a mark of a skilled writer.

Introducing Ellen DeGeneres

Tonight at dinner, I became this one woman comedy show. Not Ellen, because Ellen rarely cracks up at her own jokes, and I occasionally bring myself to tears. That's usually a combination of stress and bad jokes though. I know some of my more lovely friends might disagree with me and, look, I'm not saying I'm going to start selling tickets. I don't have enough childhood trauma and substance abuse history for more than one show's material. But I was never really a funny child. Now I get laughs - and not just pity laughs! I know the difference.

Here is why I bring this up. I'm trying, for the first time, to write some semblance of comedy. I toyed with a half hour comedy pilot a couple months ago but left it percolating. Maybe it would be better as a novel. I can write a snarky novel better than a slapstick laugh gag pilot. Half the time, I don't even know what I'm going to say is funny. So I decided to not take a risk and not work on the pilot.

Then a couple nights ago I was lying in bed awake, unable to sleep, which only happens three times a year, and I started thinking about a rom com feature. A few minutes daydreaming, and suddenly I experienced one of those fabled sit up, turn the light on, and grab your bedside notebook moments. It was good stuff. I've been looking for some good stuff to work on.

BUT it brought up the problem of comedy again. Aaahhhh.

Alright, look. I pride myself on being a person unafraid to take risks. I need to grow as a writer. It's a great marketable idea. I need to work on something. Anything. Even something that's supposed to be funny.

Hey, I'm not married to the idea. There's a lot of work that still needs to be done on it. I only take the risks that I want. But if I don't write this script, it's won't be because the laughs intimidate me.

...

Maybe I should go rent some Charlie Chaplins.

Too Cool for School

My first thought upon receiving the 2010 Jan/Feb issue of Script was that they had made a terrible mistake. They are a writer's magazine, and the guy on the cover was clearly not a writer. Look at this guy --



No writer looks like that. But he is a writer. A writer/director. Ooh. I see. Wait. A fashion designer turned writer/director.

I knew he had too much "style" to be just a writer.

But I can top off that trendy. Today while being my own chic writerly self with my frappacino and my MacBook, I verily did witness a middle aged knitting club sitting in the Starbucks cafe in a Barnes and Noble. Can you get anymore hip than that? Maybe by not using the word hip? But wait, what is that on the table?

Oh, Fitzgerald, Austen, and Wells, she's got a Kindle.

Go after inspiration with a club and a plane ticket

I've been whining a lot about not writing. Hey, I'll call it what it is. I'll blame anything, too, from a gaggle of seven year olds to the felicitous and all consuming holiday season. But I was secretly hoping that if I'm meant to be a writer, if I will enjoy working in "the Industry," I'd have an enlightening experience at the silver screen Mecca.

We didn't do the Hollywood thing until our last day in LA. I was psyched. The only thing we had done remotely movie-like was drive Mulholland Drive. Which I found a little disturbing at first. Thanks, David Lynch.


Let me tell you, "Hollywood" isn't actually the nicest part of LA. But it is awesome. I could have walked up and down the star studded Walk of Fame again and again. I tiptoed through Grauman's Chinese Theatre forecourt as is on hallowed ground. From Cary Grant to Johnny Depp to Rita Hayworth. The Industry's greatest and most mythical. Waltzing through the Kodak Theatre's odd shopping mall area, the pillars decked out with each year and the film that won Best Picture.

It. Was. Awesome.


And it got me excited about writing again. I don't know. Maybe that's kind of kitschy because the likelihood of me getting anywhere near Kodak again is if I pay for the guided tour (which I so will at some point). I'm not a starry-eyed screenwriting starlet. But it wasn't so much about the fame of Hollywood as it was about the realization of the stories. I mean, you pound on your keyboard and daydream about stories and movies and slave jobs I will have in LA. It's nice to have something to remind you that all that isolation can translate into something tangible. Especially cool when I saw "Out of Africa" up there on the Kodak's pillar. Know who wrote that? Kurt Luedtke, Michigan grad.

A few days prior to this we had visited a cemetery where stars such as Marilyn Monroe and Farrah Fawcett are buried. Billy Wilder's grave was there also, with his infamous epitaph, "I'm a writer but then nobody's perfect."

Imperfection, here I come.

Coast to Coast and Back Again

Tonight, I walked into my house after 3.5 hours of sleep on a couch, 5 hours on a plane, and 2500 miles. I devoured dinner and collapsed on the couch until my family's excitement for the Jets roused me. After that, apparently there's nothing to do but blog.

On Monday I locked up my house and took my overpacked suitcase and traipsed by bus and subway and train to Connecticut where my friend D lives. On Tuesday we got up in the wee hours of the morning to drive to the airport where fifteen hours of travel and one surprisingly snowy layover in Salt Lake City later we arrived in Las Vegas. This was the farthest west I've ever been. The terrain was absolutely gorgeous, and Vegas itself was just so... sparkly.

D and I have traveled together before. We went to England and Edinburgh spring break last year. Sometimes we forget to add in time for jetlag and travel recovery. No matter we had been up since 4:30 am eastern time, we endure! We persevere! We oogled all the casinos. We walked up and down the strip in insensible shoes. We collectively lost $8, though I was winning money back on the quarter slots for a little while. We checked out a couple wedding chapels, but unfortunately no elopement is complete without a groom. And that would have been such a good story. We only made it until about 12:30, so I feel like we missed half of Vegas' night life, but by that time we had been up almost 24 hours.

Oh, Vegas. I will return. If only to see the MGM lions that apparently have a very early bedtime.

Some guy laughed as we snapped this. I bet he laughed more when I couldn't figure out how to play.

The next morning we woke up and jumped on the bed as I tend to do in hotels (oops), left the glamorous side of Vegas, and taxied down to the sketchy side of town where the Greyhound bus station is always located. We were not riding the Greyhound. We took an Amtrak bus. After almost being stranded in the Detroit bus station overnight because of Greyhound's sloppy management, I swore never to take them again, but apparently I can't evade them completely. After a delayed start and an exciting rest stop where two passengers had to chase the bus to get back on, we arrived in Los Angeles around 6 pm on what our friend A said was only the third rainy day since he'd moved there. Dude, all I have to say is that I have a new found respect for the covered wagon pioneers.

Oregon Trail was never so real.

So I mentioned earlier that this trip to LA would be like a little dry run. Would I like it enough to want to move there eventually? Would the rumored death-trap traffic daunt me? How would I restrain myself from getting into physical fights with the OSU fans in town for the Rose Bowl? (This I did not realize until we had gotten there and we saw lots of old people milling around with OSU gear. Why were the majority of the fans old? I don't know, but it was especially difficult not to mock the woman wearing the knitted OSU sweater vest. However, in the end we were all silenced because we weren't sure how we'd be able to answer their return mockery. Hey, we're proud, not in denial.) So what sort of impression did LA make on me?

I really liked it. It didn't exactly match my expectations, but mostly in good ways. Even during the holidays and non peak hours, the roads seemed manageable (people don't believe this, but Jersey driving prepares you for anything.), and the geography was more beautiful than I expected. I got to stick my feet in the Pacific Ocean. I took a stupid amount of pictures in Grauman's Chinese Theatre forecourt. We brought in the New Year with pancakes and mimosas and the news reruns of the New York ball drop (apparently LA doesn't have a news worthy New Year's Eve celebration?). I found out that Crumbs' cupcakes are beyond delicious and warrant a trip into the city to find the original bakery. D and A spotted Joshua Jackson, and I spotted the back of his head.

Sunset at Santa Monica. Also, my new camera is brilliant.

And then last night D and I packed up, showered, dressed in our travel clothes, and crashed on the couch to fall asleep to Pride and Prejudice. Because we were leaving for the airport at 3:30 in the morning, and there's absolutely no reason to let yourself get snuggled up and comfortable in bed if you won't be able to leave it when the time comes. I slept for a couple hours here and there, and then we left A's lovely apartment and drove through LA in the early hours to arrive at the airport and queue up before check in had even opened. Our 6:10 flight left before the sun had risen, which is mind boggling when you hadn't really gone to sleep the night before. The LA-NYC flight was rather speedy. I finally watched the Time Traveler's Wife, which I knew was a dangerous move in public since I tend to turn into a waterworks during movies. We touched down in JFK's only crappy terminal, we collected our luggage, and D and I parted ways.

A pretty good trip. It's nice to have finally traveled coast to coast. For all the traveling I've done in Europe, it seemed a bit sad to me that the farthest I remember traveling west was St. Louis (my sister told me we went to Montana or Colorado when I was little, but I don't remember). My pseudo-nap on the couch has me feeling better, despite having less than a quarter night's sleep last night, but I know better. I am grateful to have a job where I still have Christmas break, but school does start again tomorrow, and after Vegas and LA and two planes and a bus and 5000 miles I still have to find enough energy to match 23 second graders returning from their own breaks.

You say you can now get caffeine in pills? What about straight up IVs?

George Lucas has smaller feet than I imagined. Not that I imagined his feet at all.

Why not to throw rocks inside the house

Boys should come with a relationship equivalent to Carfax reports.



You change your mind
Like a girl changes clothes
Yeah you, PMS
Like a chick
I would know

And you
Over-think
Always speak
Cryptically

I should know
That you're no good for me

Cause you're hot then you're cold
You're yes then you're no
You're in and you're out
You're up and you're down

You're wrong when it's right
It's black and it's white
We fight, we break up
We kiss, we make up

You!
You don't really want to stay, no
You!
But you don't really want to go-oh

You're hot then you're cold
You're yes then you're no
You're in and you're out
You're up and you're down

We used to be
Just like twins
So in sync
The same energy
Now's a dead battery

Used to laugh
Bout nothing
Now your plain
Boring

I should know
you're not gonna change

Cause you're hot then you're cold
You're yes then you're no
You're in and you're out
You're up and you're down

You're wrong when it's right
It's black and it's white
We fight, we break up
We kiss, we make up

You!
You don't really want to stay, no
You!
But you don't really want to go-oh

You're hot then you're cold
You're yes then you're no
You're in and you're out
You're up and you're down

Someone call the doctor
Got a case of a love bi-polar
Stuck on a roller coaster
Can't get it off this ride

You change your mind
Like a girl changes clothes

Cause you're hot then you're cold
You're yes then you're no
You're in and you're out
You're up and you're down

You're wrong when it's right
It's black and it's white
We fight, we break up
We kiss, we make up

You're hot then you're cold
You're yes then you're no
You're in and you're out
You're up and you're down

You're wrong when it's right
It's black and it's white
We fight, we break up
We kiss, we make up

You!
You don't really want to stay, no
You!
But you don't really want to go-oh

You're hot then you're cold
You're yes then you're no
You're in and you're out
You're up and you're down

- "Hot N Cold" by Katy Perry

Joshua Radin said it best

My family left for Florida yesterday morning, and while I've hardly been alone in the past 48 hours, there is definitely a different feel to the unusually empty house. Why didn't I go to Florida with them? you ask. Especially since they took the car you usually drive, leaving you virtually stranded in New Jersey? I didn't go to Florida because my best friend and I are going to Vegas and LA. Glorious, glorious.

I've never been this far out west before, and I'm very excited about traveling to these new cities. Going to LA will be an especially interesting trip. We plan on doing mostly touristy things (I really would love to go to the Magic Castle, home of the Academy of Magical Arts, but apparently it's very exclusive and by invite only. So if anyone can get me hooked up with three invites.. ;) ), but LA may be my future home one day. LA and I are going for a test drive.

I feel like I think about next year all the time, which is especially weird because no matter how much I think about it now, no real decision will be made until this summer. I am pretty much split equally three ways about what to do when I move out of my parents' house this summer--

1. Stay in the area, get the nicest crappy studio apartment I can afford, and get a job that will be able to cover my rent, student loans, and car insurance paycheck by paycheck. Oh, and groceries. Or maybe I'll just alternate nights between my parents' house and my sister's.

2. Move back to Michigan. Cost of living is a little lower there, and most of my friends are still in the area. We'll see how the film industry weathers the winter.

3. Ditch all I've known and move some place new. New Mexico if I want to pursue a film job. Anywhere else if I decide I don't mind what my day job is.

Here's the break down -- Jersey offers some semblance of financial security. My current job loves me, and I might have another option to pursue. Michigan guarantees easily accessible friends. Most of my friends in Jersey live at least a half hour away. Stumbling block to a lot of my spontaneous social activity ideas. Option number three, the anywhere option, guarantees adventure, if only from the looming giant of my student loans as I settle into a new state with no friends and no job.

Financial security, friends, or adventure.

There's a greater plan that needs to be considered here. Unfortunately, I don't yet have that sort of lifetime concept for my life yet. If I want to be able to move to Europe, I should probably focus on financial security now in order to have adventures later. If I desperately need a change now, I can be a little riskier in my decision for next year even if it fetters me financial in the future. On the other hand, if I don't know what I want to do next year, how can I consider where I want to be in five years? Or ten? What about the people in my life? If I move back to Michigan, that will alter where I am in five years. So will picking up and moving to a place where I meet an entirely new set of friends. There can be one goal -- putting a priority of friendships -- with radically different outcomes.

What to do, what to do.

Sometimes I miss that time in college when you feel like you have the whole world waiting for your graduated entrance just as eagerly as you are. There was something different about those options. There was less ambiguity.

And then there are so many options. When you don't mind taking risks, you sometimes get confounded by lack of eliminated options.

Who knows though? This greatly anticipated trip to Vegas and LA may change everything. After all, my friends always said I would be the one to elope...

Less freezing rain and more snow

Apparently, a girl knowing what an onside kick is not impressive enough these days. Well, I don't know if it ever was, but then again, I just heard the term "blocking in the back" a few weeks ago.

The days are full of Christmas and bad weather. Tonight is the second meteor shower of the fall that I won't get to see because it's too cloudy. My mom and I have made 17 different kinds of cookies, and one batch of dough is chilling in the fridge to be cut and baked tomorrow. This is a very important batch because it will be the record breaker for us. We've only ever made 17 kinds of Christmas cookies. It was my personal goal to break the record. And I still have more kinds I want to try. Other than that, I miss the usual semester's end rush to get things done. Maybe because when you have "I HAVE to get this screenplay done," you actually feel like you're doing important things. Or that at the very least, you DO get them done.

And I haven't gotten any writing done. That's mainly why I blog so little these days. I would just switch the focus of this blog a little but 1. I feel a little weird blogging more about my personal life and my job and 2. this "chronicles in screenwriting" blog is one of the few places that fuels me with any guilt at all about not writing.

On the writing front, the only real news is that I didn't get the ABC/Disney TV writing fellowship. I knew my chances weren't all that great, but how nice it would have been. This is definitely a contest I will want to enter again. And I haven't gotten my official rejection yet, but all the finalists are traditionally notified the week of Thanksgiving.

It's the holidays. I'll just watch Elf again.

Confessions

PostSecret has a cool video on its website this week. I think I recognize some of the locations from Central Park.

So I really like music. Unfortunately, I'm not good at finding music on my own. Most of my library comes from soundtracks to movies and TV shows or friend recommendation. Overall, though, I'm a little embarrassed to say that my music tastes are pretty pedestrian. Lady GaGa's "Bad Romance"? Love it. I will always stop for Whatcha Say, Tik Tok, and any Kelly Clarkson. On the flip side, I can barely stand Daughtery or that Empire State of Mind song. With three stations that play Top 40, some songs get rammed into you like a jack hammer. I have literally toggled between Z100 and 923Now when they're playing the exact same song. More than once.

I haven't been a diligent writer. I like to blame the holidays, because it's a very effective way to pass the buck. Who's going to argue with me over Christmas? I need to pick a project, though. Rewrite of Keys to the Garden or continued work on my collab spec? I have a YA novel idea I'm playing around with that I really like. Getting a day job has definitely increased my respect for full time writers who once juggled a job and writing at night - and sometimes with a family too. Inspiring.

However, I do have plans to write a travel narrative after my New Years' vacation with my best friend to Vegas and LA. Oh yes, that's called hitting inspiration before it hits you.

Yesterday one of my students told me my fingernails smelled delicious.

I hope I have a kid like him one day.