I passed the 60-page mark on my current screenplay. This means it's beginning to be a real screenplay and not just 50 pages of shit. Although I suppose it could now be 60 pages of shit, but that's unlikely. I tend to believe the more pages you rack up, let less fecal a script seems. Less pages means more room for it to just flame out as you realize it was a bad idea from the get-go. When you're deep in there, 40, 50, 60 pages in, how can it suck? How can you have chased this sucky idea for that long? Answer: you couldn't have, your good sense wouldn't have let you. Then again, I once got coverage that said a script I wrote was a "bad idea badly written." So I don't know. Hemingway's got his opinion about the first draft of everything, so I guess by his lights it's all shit no matter how many pages I log - that is, until I turn it into a second draft. Funny aside... a quote from Jim Jarmusch, spoken to a NY Times reporter at this year's Cannes: "I don't do drafts." You tell 'em, Jim.
Had a major revelation yesterday that basically gave me the whole ending. It was a real eureka moment, one of those kind that come few and far between in a writer's life, and it was exhilerating (sp?). Really. I my emailed my old writing partner. I called my girlfriend. I wanted to call my mom, but it was too late in New Jersey.
Chatted up the writer of Crash and Million Dollar Baby, who works out of theOffice these days. Nice guy. Smokes a lot. I should smoke. He looks pensive when he does it. Of course it's probably the Oscar nomination that makes him look pensive.
Writing a 12 minute short with Matt, my newer writing partner, to submit to a festival and/or shoot ourselves. It follows the night and day Dr. John Barry Roundtree, spiritual guru, has a life altering meltdown involving his long-lost mistress and a contract killer. Prediction: HIGH-larity.
Submitted some writing samples to The Bedford Diaries, Tom Fontana's new show, which was picked up for next year. Those of you who know me know I've been trying for ten years to vie for a job with him. Now I'm in the running and it's all up to my talent. Whooooo boy. I'm doomed.
Still no script from the Get Low director. And here it is nearly Memorial Day. Hmm.
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
Small Change
A few of you, my devoted public, have mentioned that it's hard to post a comment on here since it involves getting an account, filling out shit, etc. Well, I've gone into the settings and made some changes to hopefully rectify this. Anyone wants to try and see if it's easier, go for it. It's worth it. For me. I need the attention.
Saturday, May 14, 2005
Good Game
I should be at the gym, but as promised, here's a quick wrap-up of my first social engagement with the producers of Get Low.
I met the brothers Zanuck at their Beverly Hills office at quarter of 7, and was introduced to their friend, Bill. He was a nice red-haired Pacific Palisader by way of Canada, and we got along just fine. Turns out Bill is the guy who put together the budget & shooting schedule for Get Low. And through talking to him, I picked up a few tid bits about the status of the film, most notably that Louisiana now leads the race for locations (which is on account of the extremely friendly tax laws regarding film production). Sorry North Carolina.
We all took Dean's car to the game, and for a good long while everyone chatted about baseball and hockey while I watched traffic out the window, only to chime in with an occasional laugh whenever they referenced an obscure shortstop or a goalie's memorable facial hair. Getting to our seats (section 20, behind the visitor dugout) with a beer and a Dodger Dog took no time, and we were witness to a really great game in which Milton Bradley took the Dodgers, down by two, to a 7-4 win off an 8th inning grand slam. Now, I'm not much of a sports guy, but I'm not made of stone: it was unbelievably exciting, and Dean later told me he had never seen two grand slams in one game (the Braves lead was on account of an earlier grand slam, which Dean blamed on my mere sports-inept presence).
Bill and I sat next to one another and talked movies, and since the guy's been in the business a while, he had some pretty good stories about Pacino, Streep, Lumet, Costner, Eastwood and Johnny Knoxville. Soon enough the big fun of the game wound down and victory was imminent, and we left riding a high from the great 8th inning rally.
I was home by 11, greeted by my two neighbors sitting in the courtyard. They offered me a drink, and I thought it was a fine idea, so I obliged. They are both in their own ways - as are most people in this city - in the business, so we talked and gossiped and swapped war stories well into the night, promising to have an apartment complex BBQ in the near future. It probably won't happen, but - as with most people in this city - we were just talking a good game.
Okay, off to the gym to sweat off two Dodger Dogs and an $8.00 Michelob. Until next time.
I met the brothers Zanuck at their Beverly Hills office at quarter of 7, and was introduced to their friend, Bill. He was a nice red-haired Pacific Palisader by way of Canada, and we got along just fine. Turns out Bill is the guy who put together the budget & shooting schedule for Get Low. And through talking to him, I picked up a few tid bits about the status of the film, most notably that Louisiana now leads the race for locations (which is on account of the extremely friendly tax laws regarding film production). Sorry North Carolina.
We all took Dean's car to the game, and for a good long while everyone chatted about baseball and hockey while I watched traffic out the window, only to chime in with an occasional laugh whenever they referenced an obscure shortstop or a goalie's memorable facial hair. Getting to our seats (section 20, behind the visitor dugout) with a beer and a Dodger Dog took no time, and we were witness to a really great game in which Milton Bradley took the Dodgers, down by two, to a 7-4 win off an 8th inning grand slam. Now, I'm not much of a sports guy, but I'm not made of stone: it was unbelievably exciting, and Dean later told me he had never seen two grand slams in one game (the Braves lead was on account of an earlier grand slam, which Dean blamed on my mere sports-inept presence).
Bill and I sat next to one another and talked movies, and since the guy's been in the business a while, he had some pretty good stories about Pacino, Streep, Lumet, Costner, Eastwood and Johnny Knoxville. Soon enough the big fun of the game wound down and victory was imminent, and we left riding a high from the great 8th inning rally.
I was home by 11, greeted by my two neighbors sitting in the courtyard. They offered me a drink, and I thought it was a fine idea, so I obliged. They are both in their own ways - as are most people in this city - in the business, so we talked and gossiped and swapped war stories well into the night, promising to have an apartment complex BBQ in the near future. It probably won't happen, but - as with most people in this city - we were just talking a good game.
Okay, off to the gym to sweat off two Dodger Dogs and an $8.00 Michelob. Until next time.
Friday, May 13, 2005
TMI
I don't know what it is about being "self employed," but I seem to have way too much stuff to do; all these magazine articles to catch up on, all sorts of podcasts (mankind's greatest invention) to listen to, all sorts of news items to keep up with... and it suddenly seems too much. I guess if I was either 1) living in a mountain retreat, or 2) Busy with work, I wouldn't have the sheer time it takes to try and keep up, and I certainly wouldn't have time to complain about it on my bloggg. Maybe it's time to fill out that application at Borders.
Things progress with the screenplay. I sent the first third to my old writing partner Scott, all the way out in Atlanta. We'll see what he's got to say for me. Yesterday I spent at least five hours writing the same scene over and over, only to realize that it was crap, and that I had to go back and take another swing. It's the kind of thing that happens all the time, so I'm not mad. I guess that's the way it goes in writing (and life [resigned sigh])... you gotta plow through the seemingly important bullshit only to realize how wrongheaded and misguided you were, just so you can finally look at something the right way. Like deglazing a pan. Sorta. I don't know if that's an apposite analogy.
Open question to the four people who read this: in the spirit of file-sharing and freedom of information and all that good stuff, I was considering posting the first draft of my oft-delayed screenplay if and when I finish it. Lots of friends ask me to send them something to read and I never do. So I thought I might post the first draft, and some subsequent drafts just to sort of, I don't know... see what happens. I would copyright it, of course, thanks for asking, and I would, I dunno. Just. See where it goes. Anyone think this is a good / bad / legally actionable idea? Is there anyone out there?
Okay, for next time, I swear, I'm going to try and spruce up this thing, post a few pictures, a few more links, something. This is pretty dry, I know it. Also, next time, a full report on the Producers-taking-me-to-a-Dodger-game aftermath.
Things progress with the screenplay. I sent the first third to my old writing partner Scott, all the way out in Atlanta. We'll see what he's got to say for me. Yesterday I spent at least five hours writing the same scene over and over, only to realize that it was crap, and that I had to go back and take another swing. It's the kind of thing that happens all the time, so I'm not mad. I guess that's the way it goes in writing (and life [resigned sigh])... you gotta plow through the seemingly important bullshit only to realize how wrongheaded and misguided you were, just so you can finally look at something the right way. Like deglazing a pan. Sorta. I don't know if that's an apposite analogy.
Open question to the four people who read this: in the spirit of file-sharing and freedom of information and all that good stuff, I was considering posting the first draft of my oft-delayed screenplay if and when I finish it. Lots of friends ask me to send them something to read and I never do. So I thought I might post the first draft, and some subsequent drafts just to sort of, I don't know... see what happens. I would copyright it, of course, thanks for asking, and I would, I dunno. Just. See where it goes. Anyone think this is a good / bad / legally actionable idea? Is there anyone out there?
Okay, for next time, I swear, I'm going to try and spruce up this thing, post a few pictures, a few more links, something. This is pretty dry, I know it. Also, next time, a full report on the Producers-taking-me-to-a-Dodger-game aftermath.
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
Nothing's ever dead, only sleeping
New screenplay is going along well. I stopped blindly ploughing forward and looked back over what I had done and tried to think it all through. Man, it was thrilling. Nothing I like to do more than think; I'm not a doer, I'm a thinker. Isn't that what this blog proves, really?
The on-again-off-again pilot I wrote with my partner Matt ("Crime & Order: NY") has been once again resurrected from the grave and will get us a meeting some time next week with a company called A Band Apart. It proves what I'm coming to learn about show business, which I stated up there in the title line.
The other interesting/funny/slightly nerve-wracking thing is that after two plus years of a strictly business relationship with the producers of Get Low, suddenly they have invited me and my manager to a Dodger game. I will be going alone (as far as I know) since my manager will be out of town on business. And I am touched by the invitation to do something social, of course, but the Sicilian in me can't help but wonder if it isn't the perfect way to have me whacked. The sort of thing where they suggest I run up the concession stand and get a few bags of Cracker Jacks, and then while I'm waiting in line, some thick-necked goon asks me to follow him into a utility closet, where he then drapes a canvas bag over my head and beats me with a Louisville Slugger.
Or it could just be that they're being thoughtful and nice.
The on-again-off-again pilot I wrote with my partner Matt ("Crime & Order: NY") has been once again resurrected from the grave and will get us a meeting some time next week with a company called A Band Apart. It proves what I'm coming to learn about show business, which I stated up there in the title line.
The other interesting/funny/slightly nerve-wracking thing is that after two plus years of a strictly business relationship with the producers of Get Low, suddenly they have invited me and my manager to a Dodger game. I will be going alone (as far as I know) since my manager will be out of town on business. And I am touched by the invitation to do something social, of course, but the Sicilian in me can't help but wonder if it isn't the perfect way to have me whacked. The sort of thing where they suggest I run up the concession stand and get a few bags of Cracker Jacks, and then while I'm waiting in line, some thick-necked goon asks me to follow him into a utility closet, where he then drapes a canvas bag over my head and beats me with a Louisville Slugger.
Or it could just be that they're being thoughtful and nice.
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