I picked this up for a couple reasons. 1. I like Jane Austen. 2. As someone who recently finished a YA contemporary version of Hamlet, I thought this might be an interesting comp.
Of course, an agent recently told me that my manuscript is "too on the nose." Somehow this isn't? Oh, but this author is a screenwriter and has connections, plus she made her characters bi-racial (though apart from a passing reference in the story and the book cover, you wouldn't know the difference), so . . .
I'm promise I'm not bitter. (Except maybe I am, a little. At least I'm self-aware and can admit it.)
Look, this is a cute book. It took me a while to get into it, and I actually set it down for a few months, but I'm glad I came back to finish it.
Still, it is very on the nose. Sure, a few things have been changed to update the story, but it hews pretty darn close to the original. Which, if you like Sense and Sensibility, and you don't mind reading [Hollywood-centric] YA, give this a shot.
The ending felt a bit rushed, but overall it's a decent beach read.
Showing posts with label Hollywood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hollywood. Show all posts
3.03.2018
Movies: The Disaster Artist
Okay, I've never seen The Room. I've seen clips, but never the entire thing. I've tried to watch it, but can never find it on streaming, and I'm not really the cult-screening-at-midnight type.
I have no idea how true the events in The Disaster Artist are, how many are perhaps a trick of the author's perception/memory, and how many have been blurred to make the story cohesive and/or entertaining. But boy is it entertaining. A bit cringe-y, but my understanding is The Room is also a cringe fest, so . . .
For the maybe two people who don't know, The Disaster Artist is based on a book written by Greg Sestero (with the help of Tom Bissell) that details Greg's friendship with Tommy Wiseau. Wiseau is the writer, director, producer, and star of The Room, and Greg acted opposite Wiseau in that film. In fact, Greg moved from San Francisco to L.A. with Wiseau and roomed with him for a while as they both tried to make it in Hollywood. When that failed, they decided to make their own movie. The Room was the result.
I'll admit, I never realized The Room had a full crew. I'd always assumed there was just one guy with a camera and a light or something. But no, apparently it was professionally filmed, all funded by Wiseau. I knew the guy had money, but didn't think he'd spent that much to make the film everyone says is the best worst movie ever made (or something like that).
There's more than a little bit of a hint that Wiseau had a crush on Greg and took it personally when Greg got a girlfriend and moved out of their shared apartment. Again, I have to wonder how much of that is Greg's perception and how much might be punched up just for the sake of drama. Or maybe it's all true.
The Disaster Artist is entertaining enough to make me want to both read the book and watch The Room. If I can find it anywhere. But even if you know nothing about The Room or Wiseau, it's a worthwhile distraction.
I have no idea how true the events in The Disaster Artist are, how many are perhaps a trick of the author's perception/memory, and how many have been blurred to make the story cohesive and/or entertaining. But boy is it entertaining. A bit cringe-y, but my understanding is The Room is also a cringe fest, so . . .
For the maybe two people who don't know, The Disaster Artist is based on a book written by Greg Sestero (with the help of Tom Bissell) that details Greg's friendship with Tommy Wiseau. Wiseau is the writer, director, producer, and star of The Room, and Greg acted opposite Wiseau in that film. In fact, Greg moved from San Francisco to L.A. with Wiseau and roomed with him for a while as they both tried to make it in Hollywood. When that failed, they decided to make their own movie. The Room was the result.
I'll admit, I never realized The Room had a full crew. I'd always assumed there was just one guy with a camera and a light or something. But no, apparently it was professionally filmed, all funded by Wiseau. I knew the guy had money, but didn't think he'd spent that much to make the film everyone says is the best worst movie ever made (or something like that).
There's more than a little bit of a hint that Wiseau had a crush on Greg and took it personally when Greg got a girlfriend and moved out of their shared apartment. Again, I have to wonder how much of that is Greg's perception and how much might be punched up just for the sake of drama. Or maybe it's all true.
The Disaster Artist is entertaining enough to make me want to both read the book and watch The Room. If I can find it anywhere. But even if you know nothing about The Room or Wiseau, it's a worthwhile distraction.
10.30.2017
Weinstein et al
I'm going to make what many will consider a distasteful analogy. But you've heard the saying in airports and at train stations: "See something? Say something."
I've been fortunate, I suppose, never to have brushed up against Weinstein back when I was navigating a young and hopeful career in "the industry." But for those who have worked with him—and especially you men, but in some cases also women—did you ever see anything? Hear anything? Did your spidey senses ever tingle? If so, and you did nothing . . . If you brushed it off . . . Then you are complicit.
Because it is rather like the airport or the train station. If you see something and don't speak up and that plane goes down or that train derails—that's a little bit on you. And your lack of action impacts the people on the plane or train, and all their loved ones. That selfish little piece of you that stayed silent—that helped the terrorists.
Yeah, I said terrorists. Because there is a war of terror against women, and sometimes also against men. Against homosexuals and people of color and just any minority group, really. This is true in the world, and Hollywood is a microcosm of it.
After the Weinstein story broke, more allegations began to spill about others in the industry. I'm going to make another analogy here. Say you have a lush forest. It's been standing for a long time. But then one of the biggest trees has a disease. "We need to take down that tree," the park rangers say. And then they discover the disease has actually spread to a lot of the trees. Now the rangers hesitate. That's a lot of trees to cut down. It won't leave much forest. What will people do for shade? What will animals do for homes? But that disease isn't going to go away. If you leave those trees, the disease will just spread to newer, younger trees.
You've got to cut them down. Better yet, pull them by the roots so they don't regrow. Then replant with hardier stock. It will leave a very young forest, but a healthier one.
For those of you who don't follow, the casting couch mentality in Hollywood needs to be yanked up and tossed out. A new way of thinking and behaving needs to take its place. That's scary, to overhaul an industry that's used to doing things a certain way. The people on top don't want a shift of power. Of course they don't. They're the tall trees that get all the sun. But some of them are diseased and need to go. It's that simple and that difficult at the same time. A lot of hard work ahead, but the forest and the world will be better for it.
I've been fortunate, I suppose, never to have brushed up against Weinstein back when I was navigating a young and hopeful career in "the industry." But for those who have worked with him—and especially you men, but in some cases also women—did you ever see anything? Hear anything? Did your spidey senses ever tingle? If so, and you did nothing . . . If you brushed it off . . . Then you are complicit.
Because it is rather like the airport or the train station. If you see something and don't speak up and that plane goes down or that train derails—that's a little bit on you. And your lack of action impacts the people on the plane or train, and all their loved ones. That selfish little piece of you that stayed silent—that helped the terrorists.
Yeah, I said terrorists. Because there is a war of terror against women, and sometimes also against men. Against homosexuals and people of color and just any minority group, really. This is true in the world, and Hollywood is a microcosm of it.
After the Weinstein story broke, more allegations began to spill about others in the industry. I'm going to make another analogy here. Say you have a lush forest. It's been standing for a long time. But then one of the biggest trees has a disease. "We need to take down that tree," the park rangers say. And then they discover the disease has actually spread to a lot of the trees. Now the rangers hesitate. That's a lot of trees to cut down. It won't leave much forest. What will people do for shade? What will animals do for homes? But that disease isn't going to go away. If you leave those trees, the disease will just spread to newer, younger trees.
You've got to cut them down. Better yet, pull them by the roots so they don't regrow. Then replant with hardier stock. It will leave a very young forest, but a healthier one.
For those of you who don't follow, the casting couch mentality in Hollywood needs to be yanked up and tossed out. A new way of thinking and behaving needs to take its place. That's scary, to overhaul an industry that's used to doing things a certain way. The people on top don't want a shift of power. Of course they don't. They're the tall trees that get all the sun. But some of them are diseased and need to go. It's that simple and that difficult at the same time. A lot of hard work ahead, but the forest and the world will be better for it.
3.13.2017
Television: Feud, "Pilot"
I've watched my share of Ryan Murphy: some seasons of American Horror Story, the first season of Scream Queens, American Crime Story (which he produced and directed some of but didn't write), and I did try Glee way back when it first started. In any case, I think Murphy has a definite brand, though I'd be hard pressed to name it. Maybe it's more of a spectrum? From glossy to gritty, from howlingly ridiculous to . . . slightly less ridiculous.
Given that spectrum, Feud fits squarely in the Murphy mold. It archly and colorfully examines the feud between Bette Davis and Joan Crawford at the time of their making Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?. Their rivalry is Hollywood legend, of course, and quite vivid at a time when a certain amount of class was expected from the film elite. (Made the feuds all the more delicious, though—like a luscious dessert. Nowadays Twitter feuds make these things less of a treat.)
In the first episode of this mini, Joan Crawford (played by Murphy favorite Jessica Lange) is nearly bankrupt and searching for the right property (I'm speaking in the film sense rather than real estate) to restore her to Oscar glory. The scripts being offered her don't do her justice, at least not to her way of thinking, so she raids bookstores and finds Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?. After reading it, she takes it to Robert Aldrich and promises him she'll also deliver a perfect co-star. She chases Bette Davis (Susan Sarandon) down on Broadway while Aldrich shops the story and strong arms Jack Warner (Stanley Tucci) into financing.
Of course there are problems even before shooting begins. Joan gets a glimpse of Bette's contract and sees Bette is getting more per week. And so it begins.
Since Murphy never met a frame story he didn't like, there's one here too: the conceit is that some kind of documentary is being filmed, and so people like Olivia de Havilland (Catherine Zeta-Jones) and Joan Blondell (Kathy Bates, another of Murphy's regulars) give tidbits of backstory about Joan and Bette.
Certainly this is an entertaining show and I'll continue to watch. So far it's not outrageous, but I'm sure—just based on the actual history of the subject matter—it's building to that. I will say I'm way more excited about the prospect of a Charles v Diana story line next season. In the meantime, I'll enjoy this one. There is, after all, a reason I keep watching Ryan Murphy shows. For the most part, they serve up the very thing(s) he promises. It's just a matter of deciding which of those things I want. In the case of Feud, yeah, I think there's room on my plate for a little.
Given that spectrum, Feud fits squarely in the Murphy mold. It archly and colorfully examines the feud between Bette Davis and Joan Crawford at the time of their making Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?. Their rivalry is Hollywood legend, of course, and quite vivid at a time when a certain amount of class was expected from the film elite. (Made the feuds all the more delicious, though—like a luscious dessert. Nowadays Twitter feuds make these things less of a treat.)
In the first episode of this mini, Joan Crawford (played by Murphy favorite Jessica Lange) is nearly bankrupt and searching for the right property (I'm speaking in the film sense rather than real estate) to restore her to Oscar glory. The scripts being offered her don't do her justice, at least not to her way of thinking, so she raids bookstores and finds Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?. After reading it, she takes it to Robert Aldrich and promises him she'll also deliver a perfect co-star. She chases Bette Davis (Susan Sarandon) down on Broadway while Aldrich shops the story and strong arms Jack Warner (Stanley Tucci) into financing.
Of course there are problems even before shooting begins. Joan gets a glimpse of Bette's contract and sees Bette is getting more per week. And so it begins.
Since Murphy never met a frame story he didn't like, there's one here too: the conceit is that some kind of documentary is being filmed, and so people like Olivia de Havilland (Catherine Zeta-Jones) and Joan Blondell (Kathy Bates, another of Murphy's regulars) give tidbits of backstory about Joan and Bette.
Certainly this is an entertaining show and I'll continue to watch. So far it's not outrageous, but I'm sure—just based on the actual history of the subject matter—it's building to that. I will say I'm way more excited about the prospect of a Charles v Diana story line next season. In the meantime, I'll enjoy this one. There is, after all, a reason I keep watching Ryan Murphy shows. For the most part, they serve up the very thing(s) he promises. It's just a matter of deciding which of those things I want. In the case of Feud, yeah, I think there's room on my plate for a little.
2.28.2016
Movies: Straight Outta Compton
I just . . . don't understand why this movie didn't receive more Oscar nominations.
Actually, I do. If the Academy is made up of seventy-something percent old white guys, it's a cinch they get more excited remembering how they blackballed Communists than want to think about L.A. in the 80s and 90s.
The self-congratulatory aspect of the Academy Awards—and the industry in general—leaves a bad taste in my mouth. They're so proud of themselves for what? Making an entirely unnecessary export? I guess they employ a lot ofpeople white men. Good for them, keeping those off the streets.
Anyway. This movie. I know nothing about rap music. I don't listen to it, don't much care for it at all. I mean, at that time I was living in Texas, where most people I knew listened to country music, a few listened to alternative/grunge, and a tinier sliver listened to techno. And I listened to pop and classic rock and Jimmy Buffett. Throughout this movie, my husband kept saying, "Now you must recognize this song!" I didn't. The songs all sounded the same to me, and all sounded a bit like Red Hot Chili Peppers' "Give It Away." I'd heard of Dr. Dre and Ice Cube and Suge Knight, but that's about it. Name recognition. Yet despite all this handicap, I still found Straight Outta Compton compelling.
A movie that encourages me to endure rap? Pretty amazing.
More than that, a movie that brings home what it was like to suffer under the racial ire of the L.A. police—something I could never hope to fully understand, but this film comes as close as possible to making me "get it"? That's impressive. (Though I still can't entirely wrap my brain around how they are so violent towards one another. How is that okay?)
The acting here is really good, too. Again, it left me shaking my head that they didn't get any nominations.
I don't know what else to say. It's a fabulous film. Better than Trumbo or The Big Short, in my opinion. Just goes to show, the Academy is . . . I think it's too close to the industry to be able to see the big picture (no pun intended). It's impossible for the Academy to step back and be any kind of objective. And I know this is all subjective—art is subjective—but in the Oscars' case it's too subjective. It's too influenced by its own self-interest. If that makes any sense.
Bottom line is, the Academy Awards don't mean much. Or shouldn't. It's a peer group slapping each other on the back, and we're supposed to believe that who and what wins matters. But it really doesn't. We can look at past winners and see that it doesn't make a bit of difference, and we can look at omissions like Straight Outta Compton and realize that says more than whoever takes home the trophy. It's the equivalent of prom king and queen—those elected (and their best friends) think it's amazing, the rest of us won't care or remember in a few years and will feel sorry and embarrassed for them when they still talk about being prom court whenever we run into them. "In" versus "out" is so high school, yet the Academy perpetuates exactly that. I think it's time we all move on.
Actually, I do. If the Academy is made up of seventy-something percent old white guys, it's a cinch they get more excited remembering how they blackballed Communists than want to think about L.A. in the 80s and 90s.
The self-congratulatory aspect of the Academy Awards—and the industry in general—leaves a bad taste in my mouth. They're so proud of themselves for what? Making an entirely unnecessary export? I guess they employ a lot of
Anyway. This movie. I know nothing about rap music. I don't listen to it, don't much care for it at all. I mean, at that time I was living in Texas, where most people I knew listened to country music, a few listened to alternative/grunge, and a tinier sliver listened to techno. And I listened to pop and classic rock and Jimmy Buffett. Throughout this movie, my husband kept saying, "Now you must recognize this song!" I didn't. The songs all sounded the same to me, and all sounded a bit like Red Hot Chili Peppers' "Give It Away." I'd heard of Dr. Dre and Ice Cube and Suge Knight, but that's about it. Name recognition. Yet despite all this handicap, I still found Straight Outta Compton compelling.
A movie that encourages me to endure rap? Pretty amazing.
More than that, a movie that brings home what it was like to suffer under the racial ire of the L.A. police—something I could never hope to fully understand, but this film comes as close as possible to making me "get it"? That's impressive. (Though I still can't entirely wrap my brain around how they are so violent towards one another. How is that okay?)
The acting here is really good, too. Again, it left me shaking my head that they didn't get any nominations.
I don't know what else to say. It's a fabulous film. Better than Trumbo or The Big Short, in my opinion. Just goes to show, the Academy is . . . I think it's too close to the industry to be able to see the big picture (no pun intended). It's impossible for the Academy to step back and be any kind of objective. And I know this is all subjective—art is subjective—but in the Oscars' case it's too subjective. It's too influenced by its own self-interest. If that makes any sense.
Bottom line is, the Academy Awards don't mean much. Or shouldn't. It's a peer group slapping each other on the back, and we're supposed to believe that who and what wins matters. But it really doesn't. We can look at past winners and see that it doesn't make a bit of difference, and we can look at omissions like Straight Outta Compton and realize that says more than whoever takes home the trophy. It's the equivalent of prom king and queen—those elected (and their best friends) think it's amazing, the rest of us won't care or remember in a few years and will feel sorry and embarrassed for them when they still talk about being prom court whenever we run into them. "In" versus "out" is so high school, yet the Academy perpetuates exactly that. I think it's time we all move on.
2.22.2016
Movies: Steve Jobs and Trumbo
So we watched these as a double-header the other night, and that was possibly a mistake. Both are biopics, but they don't mesh well together, and I think Trumbo suffered by comparison because we watched Steve Jobs first.
I haven't read the Isaacson biography, although I'd like to. The film, however, is very condensed and concise. It begins with the 1984 launch of the Lisa and weaves Jobs' professional ambitions with his personal tangents—namely his denial of Lisa as his daughter and his insistence that the computer was not named for her. The whole movie bounces this way in that it harnesses various major product launches to his relationship with Lisa and her mother. It's actually done very well and would make a good stage play. As someone with only a passing sense of the history of Apple, I found it educational. The film ends with the reveal of the iMac in 1998 while Jobs simultaneously brings Lisa back into his life. This means we don't get Pixar or any of the rest of Jobs' life or work history, but it's a satisfying enough chunk for entertainment purposes.
So after watching that, to turn to something as sprawling as Trumbo . . . Made Trumbo feel long and dull by comparison.
Though Steve Jobs doesn't have a lot of action, the film feels dynamic. In Trumbo, meanwhile, a lot is going on, yet it feels as if nothing is happening at all.
Dalton Trumbo was a screenwriter and an admitted Communist at a time when being a Communist was borderline criminal. The House Un-American Activities Commission was investigating Hollywood in the belief that Communist influences were using the industry to distribute propaganda. The result was a bunch of hearings in which some industry people named names and others, like Trumbo, refused to answer questions at all. He was held in contempt and served time then returned to screenwriting but, because he could not get work under his own name, he began writing under myriad pseudonyms.
On paper it sounds like a good movie. Maybe. But in truth there isn't much meat to it. Trumbo's perseverance . . . His steadfast character . . . Because he never wavers, he's not all that interesting to watch. Instead we're served a history lesson, a kind of: Here's a thing that happened. And we all nod and say, "Yeah, that happened. It shouldn't have. Um . . ." While Trumbo's résumé is impressive (Roman Holiday, Spartacus, The Brave One among others), and his punking the system is also kind of cool, none of it makes for particularly compelling viewing.
The real winner here may be actor Michael Stuhlbarg who appears in both Steve Jobs and Trumbo and is one of the best things about each. In Steve Jobs he plays Andy Hertzfeld, hapless underling, and in Trumbo he is Edward G. Robinson. When we saw him in Trumbo, I said, "That's the guy from Steve Jobs!" No one believed me so I looked it up on IMDb to prove myself. (I pride myself on being good with faces.) I thought he did solid work on both counts.
In short, I enjoyed Steve Jobs but didn't like Trumbo as much as I would have hoped, especially after it was recommended to me by so many. I can only conjecture I may have liked Trumbo better if I hadn't watched it right after Steve Jobs. I'll never know for sure. 'Tis the hazard of a double feature.
I haven't read the Isaacson biography, although I'd like to. The film, however, is very condensed and concise. It begins with the 1984 launch of the Lisa and weaves Jobs' professional ambitions with his personal tangents—namely his denial of Lisa as his daughter and his insistence that the computer was not named for her. The whole movie bounces this way in that it harnesses various major product launches to his relationship with Lisa and her mother. It's actually done very well and would make a good stage play. As someone with only a passing sense of the history of Apple, I found it educational. The film ends with the reveal of the iMac in 1998 while Jobs simultaneously brings Lisa back into his life. This means we don't get Pixar or any of the rest of Jobs' life or work history, but it's a satisfying enough chunk for entertainment purposes.
So after watching that, to turn to something as sprawling as Trumbo . . . Made Trumbo feel long and dull by comparison.
Though Steve Jobs doesn't have a lot of action, the film feels dynamic. In Trumbo, meanwhile, a lot is going on, yet it feels as if nothing is happening at all.
Dalton Trumbo was a screenwriter and an admitted Communist at a time when being a Communist was borderline criminal. The House Un-American Activities Commission was investigating Hollywood in the belief that Communist influences were using the industry to distribute propaganda. The result was a bunch of hearings in which some industry people named names and others, like Trumbo, refused to answer questions at all. He was held in contempt and served time then returned to screenwriting but, because he could not get work under his own name, he began writing under myriad pseudonyms.
On paper it sounds like a good movie. Maybe. But in truth there isn't much meat to it. Trumbo's perseverance . . . His steadfast character . . . Because he never wavers, he's not all that interesting to watch. Instead we're served a history lesson, a kind of: Here's a thing that happened. And we all nod and say, "Yeah, that happened. It shouldn't have. Um . . ." While Trumbo's résumé is impressive (Roman Holiday, Spartacus, The Brave One among others), and his punking the system is also kind of cool, none of it makes for particularly compelling viewing.
The real winner here may be actor Michael Stuhlbarg who appears in both Steve Jobs and Trumbo and is one of the best things about each. In Steve Jobs he plays Andy Hertzfeld, hapless underling, and in Trumbo he is Edward G. Robinson. When we saw him in Trumbo, I said, "That's the guy from Steve Jobs!" No one believed me so I looked it up on IMDb to prove myself. (I pride myself on being good with faces.) I thought he did solid work on both counts.
In short, I enjoyed Steve Jobs but didn't like Trumbo as much as I would have hoped, especially after it was recommended to me by so many. I can only conjecture I may have liked Trumbo better if I hadn't watched it right after Steve Jobs. I'll never know for sure. 'Tis the hazard of a double feature.
9.28.2015
Books: You're Never Weird on the Internet (Almost) by Felicia Day
Picked this one up prior to traveling to London and it was a nice, quick and easy read for the plane.
I am not, for the record, any particular fan of Ms. Day, though I've seen many of the shows she's been in (I'm a fan of Joss Whedon, so . . .) Why, then, did I decide to read her memoir? Because it sounded interesting. And as I read, I realized we have a lot of personality traits in common.
Anyway. It's a great little book that doesn't require Felicia Day fandom to enjoy or relate, though whether you find her life and experiences interesting may be predicated on how much you like . . . geekdom? Day doesn't say anything specific about time on the Buffy set or other such things, instead focusing on her own work with The Guild and Geek and Sundry. We do get a lot about commercials and auditions, though, and acting classes, etc. And a bit about conventions, of course. (I was the guest at conventions when I was at UT, back when fan fiction had to be published in zines rather than just slapped onto the Internet. I was a fanfic author of some renown at the time—well, and my Sherlock fic from a few years back is still considered the gold standard—and those conventions were so fun. Maybe I'll get to do it again some day. Thanks, Felicia, for giving me permission to own that I got my start writing fanfic before moving on to more "serious" work.)
Other topics covered include mental illness and Gamergate. On the whole, it's a somewhat spotty story, but a good one. Worth the little bit of time it takes to read.
I am not, for the record, any particular fan of Ms. Day, though I've seen many of the shows she's been in (I'm a fan of Joss Whedon, so . . .) Why, then, did I decide to read her memoir? Because it sounded interesting. And as I read, I realized we have a lot of personality traits in common.
- Weird upbringing in the American South? Check. (Though mine was distinctly different from hers, I was equally isolated and had difficulty making friends.)
- Crush on Commander Riker? Check. Named my favorite teddy bear William. Though later MacGyver became my man.
- Creating elaborate worlds that combined favorite book and TV/film characters? Check. Mine had Han Solo and Indiana Jones as identical cousins, Patty Duke style, and for some reason they all spent a lot of time on the Enterprise. Also time traveling into the antebellum South, cuz I love me some houses with big columns.
- Astrology? Check. I still read charts for friends.
- UT Austin? Check. In fact, it sounds as if we attended at about the same time.
- Obsessive/addictive nature? Check. For me it was TV shows and movies rather than video games, but yeah. You should see my scrapbooks.
- Having a friendly support group hold you accountable and get you to start writing? Check.
- A people-pleasing, perfectionist nature? Check. I didn't necessarily need kids my age to like me, but boy howdy did I want my teachers to love me. All my self-worth was caught up in that, and I still struggle with it.
- Wanting to erase yourself from the world (digital or otherwise)? Check. I went through that a few years back, deleting accounts left and right, and I'm starting to feel that way again now.
Anyway. It's a great little book that doesn't require Felicia Day fandom to enjoy or relate, though whether you find her life and experiences interesting may be predicated on how much you like . . . geekdom? Day doesn't say anything specific about time on the Buffy set or other such things, instead focusing on her own work with The Guild and Geek and Sundry. We do get a lot about commercials and auditions, though, and acting classes, etc. And a bit about conventions, of course. (I was the guest at conventions when I was at UT, back when fan fiction had to be published in zines rather than just slapped onto the Internet. I was a fanfic author of some renown at the time—well, and my Sherlock fic from a few years back is still considered the gold standard—and those conventions were so fun. Maybe I'll get to do it again some day. Thanks, Felicia, for giving me permission to own that I got my start writing fanfic before moving on to more "serious" work.)
Other topics covered include mental illness and Gamergate. On the whole, it's a somewhat spotty story, but a good one. Worth the little bit of time it takes to read.
11.07.2014
Movies: In A World . . .
I'd heard really cute things about this movie and finally had the chance to sit down and watch it. And it's as good as they say.
Written and directed by Lake Bell, she also stars as Carol, daughter of a semi-famous voice actor (with the necessary nod to the late, great Don LaFontaine). Carol scrapes together a living as a voice coach supplemented with whatever voiceover work she can pick up. But when she subs in on a demo for the far more famous Gustav (who is also her father's protégé) and then lands the actual job, her career starts to take off.
Meanwhile, Carol's dad has kicked her out, so Carol goes to live with her sister Dani and brother-in-law Moe. Rob Corddry does a phenomenal job in the role of Moe, just the right amounts of awkward and sympathetic. Complications ensue when Carol asks Dani to get a voice recording of an Irish client at the hotel when Dani is concierge. But because this is a comedy, it all comes right in the end.
Thing is, though this is a comedy, it's not the slapstick kind. It has heart. It's a sweet movie. But if you're looking for laugh-out-loud funny, you may be disappointed.
It's interesting from a Hollywood "boys' club" perspective as well. Without hitting viewers over the head with the misogyny inherent in the biz, it does a fine job of portraying it, I'm guessing because Bell has lived it.
The climax comes when Carol, her dad, and Gustav all go after the same huge job as, more or less, official voice for the trailers for a "quadrilogy"—four movies being made from a series of dystopian YA novels. It seems to me, since the novels are about Amazonian women, they'd want a female voice for the trailers. But you'll have to watch the movie yourself to see if it happens. Or look it up on, like, Wikipedia. Since there's probably a summary that tells you.
In A World . . . is definitely worth a watch, though. And made me think Lake Bell would be awesome in the lead of the rom-com I co-wrote, but that's something else again.
Written and directed by Lake Bell, she also stars as Carol, daughter of a semi-famous voice actor (with the necessary nod to the late, great Don LaFontaine). Carol scrapes together a living as a voice coach supplemented with whatever voiceover work she can pick up. But when she subs in on a demo for the far more famous Gustav (who is also her father's protégé) and then lands the actual job, her career starts to take off.
Meanwhile, Carol's dad has kicked her out, so Carol goes to live with her sister Dani and brother-in-law Moe. Rob Corddry does a phenomenal job in the role of Moe, just the right amounts of awkward and sympathetic. Complications ensue when Carol asks Dani to get a voice recording of an Irish client at the hotel when Dani is concierge. But because this is a comedy, it all comes right in the end.
Thing is, though this is a comedy, it's not the slapstick kind. It has heart. It's a sweet movie. But if you're looking for laugh-out-loud funny, you may be disappointed.
It's interesting from a Hollywood "boys' club" perspective as well. Without hitting viewers over the head with the misogyny inherent in the biz, it does a fine job of portraying it, I'm guessing because Bell has lived it.
The climax comes when Carol, her dad, and Gustav all go after the same huge job as, more or less, official voice for the trailers for a "quadrilogy"—four movies being made from a series of dystopian YA novels. It seems to me, since the novels are about Amazonian women, they'd want a female voice for the trailers. But you'll have to watch the movie yourself to see if it happens. Or look it up on, like, Wikipedia. Since there's probably a summary that tells you.
In A World . . . is definitely worth a watch, though. And made me think Lake Bell would be awesome in the lead of the rom-com I co-wrote, but that's something else again.
8.31.2014
The Future of Film
I was thinking about this last night, about how Hollywood keeps churning out the expensive, big-scale movies. A lot of people talk about the Chinese market, and that's certainly a factor. But it occurred to me that I'm just as guilty.
See, I'm pretty picky about what I go see on the big screen. If a movie isn't full of special effects that merit the cost of a cinema ticket, I'll wait for it to be On Demand or streaming or whatever. And I know a lot of other people are the same way. Why spend the money for a ticket, overpriced concessions, and then have to deal with rude people unless the movie itself is a big screen must? And what both Hollywood and cinemas have learned from this is: Make the big screen movies and the people will come.
My hope, then, is at some point we'll quit going even to the blockbusters. We'll get sick enough of the movies all looking alike, and sick enough of the crappy etiquette (or utter lack of etiquette), and stay home regardless. Our TVs and entertainment systems are getting bigger and better anyway, and at some point (I predict) movies will eventually just release directly to the public almost at the same time as in cinemas. Maybe cinemas as we know them now will become quaint, like the old drive-ins.
See, I'm pretty picky about what I go see on the big screen. If a movie isn't full of special effects that merit the cost of a cinema ticket, I'll wait for it to be On Demand or streaming or whatever. And I know a lot of other people are the same way. Why spend the money for a ticket, overpriced concessions, and then have to deal with rude people unless the movie itself is a big screen must? And what both Hollywood and cinemas have learned from this is: Make the big screen movies and the people will come.
My hope, then, is at some point we'll quit going even to the blockbusters. We'll get sick enough of the movies all looking alike, and sick enough of the crappy etiquette (or utter lack of etiquette), and stay home regardless. Our TVs and entertainment systems are getting bigger and better anyway, and at some point (I predict) movies will eventually just release directly to the public almost at the same time as in cinemas. Maybe cinemas as we know them now will become quaint, like the old drive-ins.
8.21.2014
Movies: Tales from the Script
I was told that, as a screenwriter, I should see this little documentary. But I have to say, while it was interesting, it didn't really tell me anything I didn't already know, either from personal experience or from having heard similar stories at conferences or in screenwriting books.
The film talks to a swath of screenwriters—Shane Black, John August, John Carpenter, William Goldman, Frank Darabont, Paul Schrader to name a few (and a couple token female writers, including Guinevere Turner, which made me wonder whether they either couldn't find any others or didn't try?). And just as at so many writing conferences, these screenwriters told anecdotes to illustrate the life of a screenwriter, the process, just how difficult it can be on various fronts, from selling the script to working with actors and directors and so on.
I've said it before, that there's only so much one can take away from these kinds of stories. Because every writer has them (or, starting out, hopes to have them) . . . And how much they apply to others is questionable. Because everyone's experience is going to be different. What worked for one person won't necessarily work for another.
I wish I could remember which of the screenwriters said this last night, and I think it perfectly encapsulates my thoughts on the matter (paraphrasing): That there is a wall around where you, as a writer, want to get to. And there are tiny cracks in that wall. And everyone is feeling for a crack. And once you find it and get in, the crack you used closes up behind you, and no one else will ever get in that way again.
So it's very little use to try what's worked for others because the system—the wall—has gotten wise to that technique and won't fall for it again. The problem being that it's becoming increasingly difficult to find any cracks; the wall has been shored up, patched, reinforced. And meanwhile there are more people than ever before trying to get through.
The documentary touches only lightly on how studios no longer make smaller movies (a matter of concern to me, as that is what I write). Nor does it really explore independent outlets as an alternative. This is a discussion of screenwriting at the mega level, even if some of the screenwriters are known for scripting dramas rather than blockbusters. A couple of them say, "Well, my movie would not be made today," and that is the extent of it.
The bottom line is, no one can say, "This is how you break in and get your script sold and produced." Because there is no one way that it is done. Hollywood is a machine that no one is entirely sure how it works. When you're on the outside of it, it's all grinding gears, and you have to be prepared to run the gauntlet. Once you get in (if you're lucky enough to get that far), you're still surrounded by threatening machinery that can grind you up and spit you out again. But at least it's a little easier to navigate. More space between the gears, more room to stand and move. And, weirdly, the goal seems to be to stay in rather than get out. It's sort of messed up that way.
My only other issues with Tales from the Script are technical: the sound was a bit muffled, and some of the transfers of clips from other films were not great.
On the whole, it was an interesting little documentary, but not actually all that helpful or informative. Maybe it's simply for complete and utter newbie writers. I mean, I know if I sell a script it will be changed. I'm fine with that. Otherwise I'd tell that story in prose instead. And I know there's no such thing as "made it." Because in Hollywood you're only as good as the last thing you wrote. You're hot off a blockbuster? Great. But then you think you can write some little film that no one will want? You're outta here. You have to prove yourself over and over again. It's not one hurdle, it's hundreds.
But the first is the highest and hardest.
The film talks to a swath of screenwriters—Shane Black, John August, John Carpenter, William Goldman, Frank Darabont, Paul Schrader to name a few (and a couple token female writers, including Guinevere Turner, which made me wonder whether they either couldn't find any others or didn't try?). And just as at so many writing conferences, these screenwriters told anecdotes to illustrate the life of a screenwriter, the process, just how difficult it can be on various fronts, from selling the script to working with actors and directors and so on.
I've said it before, that there's only so much one can take away from these kinds of stories. Because every writer has them (or, starting out, hopes to have them) . . . And how much they apply to others is questionable. Because everyone's experience is going to be different. What worked for one person won't necessarily work for another.
I wish I could remember which of the screenwriters said this last night, and I think it perfectly encapsulates my thoughts on the matter (paraphrasing): That there is a wall around where you, as a writer, want to get to. And there are tiny cracks in that wall. And everyone is feeling for a crack. And once you find it and get in, the crack you used closes up behind you, and no one else will ever get in that way again.
So it's very little use to try what's worked for others because the system—the wall—has gotten wise to that technique and won't fall for it again. The problem being that it's becoming increasingly difficult to find any cracks; the wall has been shored up, patched, reinforced. And meanwhile there are more people than ever before trying to get through.
The documentary touches only lightly on how studios no longer make smaller movies (a matter of concern to me, as that is what I write). Nor does it really explore independent outlets as an alternative. This is a discussion of screenwriting at the mega level, even if some of the screenwriters are known for scripting dramas rather than blockbusters. A couple of them say, "Well, my movie would not be made today," and that is the extent of it.
The bottom line is, no one can say, "This is how you break in and get your script sold and produced." Because there is no one way that it is done. Hollywood is a machine that no one is entirely sure how it works. When you're on the outside of it, it's all grinding gears, and you have to be prepared to run the gauntlet. Once you get in (if you're lucky enough to get that far), you're still surrounded by threatening machinery that can grind you up and spit you out again. But at least it's a little easier to navigate. More space between the gears, more room to stand and move. And, weirdly, the goal seems to be to stay in rather than get out. It's sort of messed up that way.
My only other issues with Tales from the Script are technical: the sound was a bit muffled, and some of the transfers of clips from other films were not great.
On the whole, it was an interesting little documentary, but not actually all that helpful or informative. Maybe it's simply for complete and utter newbie writers. I mean, I know if I sell a script it will be changed. I'm fine with that. Otherwise I'd tell that story in prose instead. And I know there's no such thing as "made it." Because in Hollywood you're only as good as the last thing you wrote. You're hot off a blockbuster? Great. But then you think you can write some little film that no one will want? You're outta here. You have to prove yourself over and over again. It's not one hurdle, it's hundreds.
But the first is the highest and hardest.
6.16.2014
Blockbuster Fatigue
I was trying to find something to watch the other night—you know, a movie. I scrolled through all the new On Demand options and everything that was "hot" on Netflix . . . And it was all sci-fi and action-adventure and big-scale crap. And I wasn't in the mood for that.
Seriously, my eyes started to glaze over. Every option looked alike. Even the posters, all blues and blacks and silvers . . . Every now and then a brownish one that made me think of pollution . . .
Sigh.
I tried to narrow down my choices. I looked for a comedy, but they were all older and stuff I'd seen, or else the raunchy stuff I don't find funny.
Clearly the studios are mostly targeting men. And China, which has a huge, insatiable appetite for the epic blockbusters. Every now and then a little indie film comes along, but you never hear about those so much as stumble upon them accidentally, assuming they're lucky enough to get distribution of some kind. But those middle movies? The rom-coms, for example? Nobody will make them any more because there is this prevailing notion that movies like that won't sell. And the idea isn't entirely unfounded; look at how poorly Blended did.
But then also look at how well 22 Jump Street did this weekend. And yes, women went to see it. (I want to see it; I thought the first one was great.) But that movie wasn't targeted at women; that women want to see Channing Tatum is just a happy side effect for the studio.
I don't know where I'm going with this except to say I'm tired of having to go re-watch Dodgeball or whatever to find something that suits my mood. I'm tired of my only current options being big science fiction and action movies. I'm tired of not being able to find what I want to watch because studios don't make those movies any more.
What did I end up watching? Well, I had the disc for The Young Victoria in from Netflix, so I popped that in. It was okay. Not great but kind of a nice, quiet break from all the pounding action films. And I do like Emily Blunt. (Who, coincidentally, stars in Edge of Tomorrow with Tom Cruise . . . another big sci-fi flick. Because roles for women have been shunted into "sexy sidekick/love interest" territory.)
Dramas now go to television to be born . . . Though we're in danger of losing comedies on the small screen now, and the dramas themselves are skewing ever darker, ever closer to the same sci-fi thrillers of the film trade. Hmm. While I think some of the best work—writing, acting, etc.—is being done for television now, I do worry it will all start to look and sound alike, too.
Honestly, it's like going into the produce section of a store, and all they have is a bunch of different kinds of apple. There are some differences in flavor and color, but they're all apples and the texture is pretty much the same. And I think, What if I don't want an apple? What if I want an orange or a banana or something like a mango? But good luck finding it.
Seriously, my eyes started to glaze over. Every option looked alike. Even the posters, all blues and blacks and silvers . . . Every now and then a brownish one that made me think of pollution . . .
Sigh.
I tried to narrow down my choices. I looked for a comedy, but they were all older and stuff I'd seen, or else the raunchy stuff I don't find funny.
Clearly the studios are mostly targeting men. And China, which has a huge, insatiable appetite for the epic blockbusters. Every now and then a little indie film comes along, but you never hear about those so much as stumble upon them accidentally, assuming they're lucky enough to get distribution of some kind. But those middle movies? The rom-coms, for example? Nobody will make them any more because there is this prevailing notion that movies like that won't sell. And the idea isn't entirely unfounded; look at how poorly Blended did.
But then also look at how well 22 Jump Street did this weekend. And yes, women went to see it. (I want to see it; I thought the first one was great.) But that movie wasn't targeted at women; that women want to see Channing Tatum is just a happy side effect for the studio.
I don't know where I'm going with this except to say I'm tired of having to go re-watch Dodgeball or whatever to find something that suits my mood. I'm tired of my only current options being big science fiction and action movies. I'm tired of not being able to find what I want to watch because studios don't make those movies any more.
What did I end up watching? Well, I had the disc for The Young Victoria in from Netflix, so I popped that in. It was okay. Not great but kind of a nice, quiet break from all the pounding action films. And I do like Emily Blunt. (Who, coincidentally, stars in Edge of Tomorrow with Tom Cruise . . . another big sci-fi flick. Because roles for women have been shunted into "sexy sidekick/love interest" territory.)
Dramas now go to television to be born . . . Though we're in danger of losing comedies on the small screen now, and the dramas themselves are skewing ever darker, ever closer to the same sci-fi thrillers of the film trade. Hmm. While I think some of the best work—writing, acting, etc.—is being done for television now, I do worry it will all start to look and sound alike, too.
Honestly, it's like going into the produce section of a store, and all they have is a bunch of different kinds of apple. There are some differences in flavor and color, but they're all apples and the texture is pretty much the same. And I think, What if I don't want an apple? What if I want an orange or a banana or something like a mango? But good luck finding it.
11.25.2013
Screenwriting: Please Stop Telling Me to Make My Own Movie
Cross posted from PepperWords.
The latest hot advice to would-be screenwriters is: Go make your own movie.
I understand why. I really do. The chances of getting your script read, much less noticed by anyone with any clout in the industry is nearly nil. It's even less than it used to be, if that's possible. Studios have become increasingly risk adverse, unwilling to take chances on new writers or unproven ideas. They want known quantities: Writers who have a track record and/or properties that have built-in fan bases (like all those comic book superheroes).
So what is a writer to do? Go indie, naturally, and prove him- or herself by getting noticed on the smaller circuit. And this should be easy, right? Since there are so many would-be directors and acting hopefuls just looking for the right content? Except . . . Not really. A lot of those would-be directors, and some of the actors too, are also writing their own stuff and have little interest in yours. OR, alternatively, what you write is not what they want to film. So as a writer you are back where you started: Nobody wants your script.
And here's where the DIY advice comes in. "So film your script yourself!" And we're told it's easy, or that there are resources to help us or whatever. But for those of us who aren't prepared to take on that kind of project, surely there must be another option? What I'm saying is, even if producing your own film isn't a bad idea, surely it can't be the only one.
I, for one, am not ready to wade into the Kickstarter waters, nor am I able to put up a bunch of my own money to make a movie. While I'm sure I could find willing crew and other help, and while I'm quite capable of managing large projects (I have a project management background), going and making a movie is no small, quick, or simple process—at least, not if you're hoping the movie will be a good one. You want it to look a certain way, namely professional. You need equipment, good sound and lighting, and later editing and music. You need locations, which may involve permits. Making a [good] movie takes time, and it takes money, and it takes people who know what they're doing.
And when all that is done and you have a finished product that you are hopefully proud enough of to share with the world? You then have to try and get people to notice it. Maybe you put it on YouTube and beg people to watch it. Maybe you submit it to festivals and hope for acceptance. But the bottom line is: Even if you go through all the trouble of making your own movie, there's no guarantee it will launch your career. You continue to swim upstream and against the odds.
Yes, it's easier to sell something that is finished than something that is not. People still prefer to watch movies rather than read them. The arguments are all valid, but that's not really the issue for me. Telling a writer to produce/direct/film his or her own movie is like telling a nurse to do brain surgery—she may or may not have an idea of how to do it, and she'll still need a surgeon, an anesthesiologist, and all the rest. And maybe she's eager to have a chance to try brain surgery. If so, good for her (perhaps not so good for the patient). But for those who are not so eager . . . Can't you just refer us to a good doctor?
I write all this knowing full well I am very fortunate to have a script of mine in post-production. A short film that I did not have to make myself. Admittedly, I have no idea how it turned out; as a writer, I labor under the knowledge and understanding that once the script leaves my hands, my control over it is diminished if nonexistent (depending on the circumstances). And that's fine. I am not one of those writers who insists on it being just as I envisioned it. Because if I were . . . I'd make the movie myself.
The latest hot advice to would-be screenwriters is: Go make your own movie.
I understand why. I really do. The chances of getting your script read, much less noticed by anyone with any clout in the industry is nearly nil. It's even less than it used to be, if that's possible. Studios have become increasingly risk adverse, unwilling to take chances on new writers or unproven ideas. They want known quantities: Writers who have a track record and/or properties that have built-in fan bases (like all those comic book superheroes).
So what is a writer to do? Go indie, naturally, and prove him- or herself by getting noticed on the smaller circuit. And this should be easy, right? Since there are so many would-be directors and acting hopefuls just looking for the right content? Except . . . Not really. A lot of those would-be directors, and some of the actors too, are also writing their own stuff and have little interest in yours. OR, alternatively, what you write is not what they want to film. So as a writer you are back where you started: Nobody wants your script.
And here's where the DIY advice comes in. "So film your script yourself!" And we're told it's easy, or that there are resources to help us or whatever. But for those of us who aren't prepared to take on that kind of project, surely there must be another option? What I'm saying is, even if producing your own film isn't a bad idea, surely it can't be the only one.
I, for one, am not ready to wade into the Kickstarter waters, nor am I able to put up a bunch of my own money to make a movie. While I'm sure I could find willing crew and other help, and while I'm quite capable of managing large projects (I have a project management background), going and making a movie is no small, quick, or simple process—at least, not if you're hoping the movie will be a good one. You want it to look a certain way, namely professional. You need equipment, good sound and lighting, and later editing and music. You need locations, which may involve permits. Making a [good] movie takes time, and it takes money, and it takes people who know what they're doing.
And when all that is done and you have a finished product that you are hopefully proud enough of to share with the world? You then have to try and get people to notice it. Maybe you put it on YouTube and beg people to watch it. Maybe you submit it to festivals and hope for acceptance. But the bottom line is: Even if you go through all the trouble of making your own movie, there's no guarantee it will launch your career. You continue to swim upstream and against the odds.
Yes, it's easier to sell something that is finished than something that is not. People still prefer to watch movies rather than read them. The arguments are all valid, but that's not really the issue for me. Telling a writer to produce/direct/film his or her own movie is like telling a nurse to do brain surgery—she may or may not have an idea of how to do it, and she'll still need a surgeon, an anesthesiologist, and all the rest. And maybe she's eager to have a chance to try brain surgery. If so, good for her (perhaps not so good for the patient). But for those who are not so eager . . . Can't you just refer us to a good doctor?
I write all this knowing full well I am very fortunate to have a script of mine in post-production. A short film that I did not have to make myself. Admittedly, I have no idea how it turned out; as a writer, I labor under the knowledge and understanding that once the script leaves my hands, my control over it is diminished if nonexistent (depending on the circumstances). And that's fine. I am not one of those writers who insists on it being just as I envisioned it. Because if I were . . . I'd make the movie myself.
10.15.2013
On Creativity
I was reading this article on Salon.com and I have to say . . . Isn't it interesting that creatives cannot make a living at their work? If you are not a big-name writer or director or what-have-you, if you are not a member of that elite, then it is unlikely you scrape together many pennies doing what you (I assume) love to do. (And for the purposes of this write-up, I'm talking about people who are artists and/or creative for a living.)
Even the "big" screenwriters will turn up at conferences if it means free food. The creative pool is growing steadily smaller, even as more and more people are trying to jump in. Thing is, as studios get increasingly risk averse, they fish for only the biggest writers, directors, actors. (There are more actors that make big money than, say, writers, but there are still many struggling actors out there in the world, too. These have my sympathy.) What this means is, even screenwriters who once could get steady gigs . . . can't. So they supplement their incomes with appearances.
And there are more and more of these conferences every year, too. The industry is creating its own market. People want to "break in" so they go to conferences. But fewer people are able to break in. So there are more conferences . . . And still fewer results.
You see it with film festivals, too. Every tiny town on the map has a festival now. And with competitions. How many of those are there now? Only a few really mean anything in the industry, but as more and more independents make movies and write scripts and hit walls in Hollywood, more and more towns and . . . whoever the fuck comes up with competitions . . . will take up the slack by luring these hopefuls toward their limelights, rather like will-o-the-wisps leading unsuspecting travelers into a bog.
The Salon article talks about the literature that has sprung up around creativity, books like Imagine by Lehrer (which I have read), and how so many of the books use the same handful of anecdotes to illustrate big creative breakthroughs. The Post-it Note story for one. The Swiffer for another. And is it any different in the writing world (or directing, or other creative endeavors)? The story of the guy who wrote the one big script or novel and sold it for a million? You hear it over and over again, but does it prove anything? Except that it happened once? How about the one in which Stephen King's wife rescues his manuscript from the trash. Okay, but . . . So?
Is creativity valued? Not really. People want more of the same, more of what they already like. Make it a little different, not a lot. And studios and publishers want more of what they can sell, which is predicated on what they've already sold. So more of that, please, for them. (Television is sometimes more willing to take a chance, but that is because they also have more ability to kill a project and cut losses if it starts to go south.)
The only time creativity gets applause is if and when it succeeds. Then it becomes another anecdote for the oft-repeated list. But that's only on the rare occasions creativity is given the opportunity to succeed. Because few people want to take a chance on a book or movie that is truly out of the ordinary. Most really creative work doesn't see much daylight. If the book gets published (even self-published), if the movie gets made by a group of friends working together on weekends, even still the chances anyone will read it or see it are slim. And God help us every time a creative piece fails. Because then the studios and publishers are all the less likely to take a chance on the next screenplay or manuscript that shows originality.
So if there's a class of creatives, we're pretty low in the hierarchy.
Even if you look at people who problem solve creatively . . . Companies get antsy when it's suggested they do something differently. And the more radical the suggestion, the more antsy the company gets. So, no. I don't think creativity is all that valued. Anywhere.
Hindsight, they say, is 20/20. The ideas people eschew today may be seen as invaluable tomorrow. Alas, we can only live in the here and now.
Even the "big" screenwriters will turn up at conferences if it means free food. The creative pool is growing steadily smaller, even as more and more people are trying to jump in. Thing is, as studios get increasingly risk averse, they fish for only the biggest writers, directors, actors. (There are more actors that make big money than, say, writers, but there are still many struggling actors out there in the world, too. These have my sympathy.) What this means is, even screenwriters who once could get steady gigs . . . can't. So they supplement their incomes with appearances.
And there are more and more of these conferences every year, too. The industry is creating its own market. People want to "break in" so they go to conferences. But fewer people are able to break in. So there are more conferences . . . And still fewer results.
You see it with film festivals, too. Every tiny town on the map has a festival now. And with competitions. How many of those are there now? Only a few really mean anything in the industry, but as more and more independents make movies and write scripts and hit walls in Hollywood, more and more towns and . . . whoever the fuck comes up with competitions . . . will take up the slack by luring these hopefuls toward their limelights, rather like will-o-the-wisps leading unsuspecting travelers into a bog.
The Salon article talks about the literature that has sprung up around creativity, books like Imagine by Lehrer (which I have read), and how so many of the books use the same handful of anecdotes to illustrate big creative breakthroughs. The Post-it Note story for one. The Swiffer for another. And is it any different in the writing world (or directing, or other creative endeavors)? The story of the guy who wrote the one big script or novel and sold it for a million? You hear it over and over again, but does it prove anything? Except that it happened once? How about the one in which Stephen King's wife rescues his manuscript from the trash. Okay, but . . . So?
Is creativity valued? Not really. People want more of the same, more of what they already like. Make it a little different, not a lot. And studios and publishers want more of what they can sell, which is predicated on what they've already sold. So more of that, please, for them. (Television is sometimes more willing to take a chance, but that is because they also have more ability to kill a project and cut losses if it starts to go south.)
The only time creativity gets applause is if and when it succeeds. Then it becomes another anecdote for the oft-repeated list. But that's only on the rare occasions creativity is given the opportunity to succeed. Because few people want to take a chance on a book or movie that is truly out of the ordinary. Most really creative work doesn't see much daylight. If the book gets published (even self-published), if the movie gets made by a group of friends working together on weekends, even still the chances anyone will read it or see it are slim. And God help us every time a creative piece fails. Because then the studios and publishers are all the less likely to take a chance on the next screenplay or manuscript that shows originality.
So if there's a class of creatives, we're pretty low in the hierarchy.
Even if you look at people who problem solve creatively . . . Companies get antsy when it's suggested they do something differently. And the more radical the suggestion, the more antsy the company gets. So, no. I don't think creativity is all that valued. Anywhere.
Hindsight, they say, is 20/20. The ideas people eschew today may be seen as invaluable tomorrow. Alas, we can only live in the here and now.
9.26.2013
Movies: Escape from the Megas?
I certainly hope Jeremy Zimmer is right. I write smaller pictures. I write character-driven fare that I hope will appeal to actors tired of having to work against CGI and green screens. I'd like to think there's a market out there for what I write. Someone, somewhere must be tired of superheroes and big budget epics . . . Right?
They say this is one of the reasons TV is so big right now—people who don't want flash and bang are getting fed by the more intricate stories told weekly (or, if it's available in intravenous, streaming form, sometimes told in huge, bingeing mouthfuls). Of course, as I've mentioned in previous posts, television's format allows for longer, deeper studies of character and more careful crafting of plot and overarching story. Or it can, anyway, in the right hands. Which is why people like Fincher and Soderbergh and Michael Douglas are winning Emmys now instead of Oscars.
The world is made up of a lot of different tastes. But lately Hollywood has been serving up mostly one thing. They've done this because they can charge a lot for it, and a lot of people will eat it up. But some of those diners are getting tired of the same old fare, and some diners never liked it in the first place. Time to lay out some additional offerings, don't you think?
Well, I'd like to see it happen that way anyway. So again, I hope Zimmer is right, and that studios might consider taking on a few smaller projects. Side dishes, if nothing else.
They say this is one of the reasons TV is so big right now—people who don't want flash and bang are getting fed by the more intricate stories told weekly (or, if it's available in intravenous, streaming form, sometimes told in huge, bingeing mouthfuls). Of course, as I've mentioned in previous posts, television's format allows for longer, deeper studies of character and more careful crafting of plot and overarching story. Or it can, anyway, in the right hands. Which is why people like Fincher and Soderbergh and Michael Douglas are winning Emmys now instead of Oscars.
The world is made up of a lot of different tastes. But lately Hollywood has been serving up mostly one thing. They've done this because they can charge a lot for it, and a lot of people will eat it up. But some of those diners are getting tired of the same old fare, and some diners never liked it in the first place. Time to lay out some additional offerings, don't you think?
Well, I'd like to see it happen that way anyway. So again, I hope Zimmer is right, and that studios might consider taking on a few smaller projects. Side dishes, if nothing else.
7.22.2013
Books: Sleepless in Hollywood: Tales from the New Abnormal in the Movie Business by Lynda Obst
Okay, first all necessary disclaimers: I worked for Lynda in the time right before she switched from Fox to Paramount. This was in Texas, though; I never saw the L.A. office. Lynda did offer to have me go out there, but at the time I decided to finish my degree at the University of Texas at Austin. Big mistake? Maybe . . . While from her descriptions in Sleepless in Hollywood of life at Paramount it seems I may have dodged the proverbial bullet, I ended up on the opposite coast at Houghton Mifflin (now Houghton Mifflin Harcourt) during its Vivendi years, which I'd say were equally fraught with peril and paranoia.
But that's my story to tell another time. I did enjoy reading Sleepless in Hollywood in part because Lynda is just so . . . Lynda. She's a formidable force despite her petite framing. And that's a good thing. Because in the movie and TV industry what's needed are people willing to say "yes" or "no," people who will make a decision, and Lynda was never afraid to do that. Or if she was, she never showed it.
(I also enjoyed reading about Oly, since I was often the recipient of phone calls from him that began, "Please don't tell Mom, but . . .")
As for Sleepless in Hollywood, let's summarize the chain of events that turned the "Old Abnormal" into the "New Abnormal" (so called because Hollywood has never been normal):
Meanwhile, as technology spreads and gets ever less expensive, everyone is not only a critic but a filmmaker. Digital cameras have become prolific, and just about anyone can make a movie, create a YouTube series, whatever. (I do wish, when getting my Radio-TV-Film degree, I'd done more of the practical studies classes as opposed to cultural studies and writing. As things stand, I would be reliant on quite a bit of aid from others more savvy than I when it comes to filming were I to strike out on turning one of my scripts into something more.)
I'd say Sleepless in Hollywood is good reading for those wanting to understand the current filmmaking model*. There is almost no middle class any more—of society or of movies. BIG studio films or little "tadpole" indies. People with money or people with no health insurance. This is the state of things. Never mind Hollywood being abnormal, it ALL is.
I'll try not to get too discouraged, though. Just got my first little movie produced, after all, and my drama script is getting good feedback. And yeah, I've got some TV ideas in my back pocket just in case . . . Hey, Lynda. Free for lunch?
*Always subject to change without notice.
But that's my story to tell another time. I did enjoy reading Sleepless in Hollywood in part because Lynda is just so . . . Lynda. She's a formidable force despite her petite framing. And that's a good thing. Because in the movie and TV industry what's needed are people willing to say "yes" or "no," people who will make a decision, and Lynda was never afraid to do that. Or if she was, she never showed it.
(I also enjoyed reading about Oly, since I was often the recipient of phone calls from him that began, "Please don't tell Mom, but . . .")
As for Sleepless in Hollywood, let's summarize the chain of events that turned the "Old Abnormal" into the "New Abnormal" (so called because Hollywood has never been normal):
- People quit buying DVDs because they could find the content online or via streaming services.
- DVD revenues made up a large portion of the studios' P&Ls—the profit & loss statements that help them determine whether a movie can make any money (and therefore whether or not they should greenlight it).
- At the same time (or maybe shortly thereafter), the international market began to grow. Now, that market demands BIG movies. China, in particular, will only accept big 3D and IMAX offerings. Studios began to focus on this new revenue stream because they are desperate to make up for the DVD losses.
- With all their money going to BIG movies, there's nothing left to make little ones. And the studios don't care because, as far as they see it, no one wants little movies anyway.
- Not all BIG movies are created equal. Stuff like The Avengers makes huge amounts of money, stuff like Green Lantern doesn't. Preawareness becomes the watchword—the studios only want properties they are sure they can sell, stuff fans already know about and will flock to see, stuff that's easy to market and make tie-ins for. Sure, a few core comics fans like Green Lantern, but EVERYBODY loves Spider-Man and Superman and Batman!
- Marketers are the big hotshots now because if an "intellectual property" (the comics and bestselling books studios look to for content) doesn't already have preawareness, they will [attempt to] fabricate it.
- And while they're busy making sure they have a product that will sell, the studios also began narrowing their focus on writers and directors with proven track records. What this means is: They don't want your spec script. They don't want your pitch. If you're a newbie writer, director, actor, you'd better be thinking of making your own independent movie because the studios aren't interested. And neither are the agents, since they can't sell you to the studios.
- Actors get tired of doing all BIG movies. So they sometimes seek out what Lynda refers to as "tadpoles" (to differentiate from the "tentpole" mentality) in order to stretch themselves . . . Or in hopes of some Oscar recognition. So if you can attach talent to your script or film? There's a sliver of a chance someone might bite. (Still, the industry is no longer as talent driven as it once was. Remember when a big name was all one needed to open a movie? That's less and less true.)
- And where are the drama writers going? Or even sometimes the BIG movie writers when they're suffering superhero fatigue? (Lynda mentions Jonathan Nolan specifically.) Television. Where characters can be developed and shows are like mini-movies, where originality is welcomed and even encouraged. Lynda herself has begun wading into the television waters with shows like Hot in Cleveland and the forthcoming Helix.
Meanwhile, as technology spreads and gets ever less expensive, everyone is not only a critic but a filmmaker. Digital cameras have become prolific, and just about anyone can make a movie, create a YouTube series, whatever. (I do wish, when getting my Radio-TV-Film degree, I'd done more of the practical studies classes as opposed to cultural studies and writing. As things stand, I would be reliant on quite a bit of aid from others more savvy than I when it comes to filming were I to strike out on turning one of my scripts into something more.)
I'd say Sleepless in Hollywood is good reading for those wanting to understand the current filmmaking model*. There is almost no middle class any more—of society or of movies. BIG studio films or little "tadpole" indies. People with money or people with no health insurance. This is the state of things. Never mind Hollywood being abnormal, it ALL is.
I'll try not to get too discouraged, though. Just got my first little movie produced, after all, and my drama script is getting good feedback. And yeah, I've got some TV ideas in my back pocket just in case . . . Hey, Lynda. Free for lunch?
*Always subject to change without notice.
7.16.2013
Movies: The Falling Star of Mega-Movies (or, Make a Wish!)
Is it too much to hope that we've finally hit that wall wherein the moviegoing public is tired of being force fed major blockbusters? After After Earth, The Lone Ranger and Pacific Rim and now the poorly tracking R.I.P.D. . . . If I stretch a little, I can even include Star Trek Into Darkness since it underperformed when held up against the 2009 reboot (taking into account that the 2009 movie did not have 3D and IMAX sales to boost ticket prices).
On the flip side, however, there are hits like Iron Man 3 and Fast and Furious 6. And Man of Steel did well, too, though reviews were not 100% glowing.
Where does this leave us? Well, while I'd like to think it means studios might save a little money and put it aside for smaller films, my big fear is that even the big movies will be narrowed down to only those that are (a) sequels and/or (b) based on a comic book. Studios won't want to risk making anything original; they won't want to develop new product or try anything not already tested.
If movies were meals, as a viewing audience we'd now be subsisting on primarily junk food. (Maybe this explains why we're obese as a nation—mentally as well as physically.) "Smart" and "skinny" movies can't get produced except independently, and that's only when and if anyone can scrape together the money.
There's hope, though, in the small progress. Movies like Mud and Before Midnight and Fruitvale Station that can at least create a bit of buzz, thus cutting through the deafening roar of the action blockbusters. (Okay, yes, Before Midnight is also a sequel too, but there are no spaceships or superheroes at least.) Unfortunately, until these kinds of movies make serious money, the studios will probably continue to mostly ignore them. Or, should the glorious day ever come when the big movies no longer draw so many bodies, maybe the studios will then reconsider their slates and decide smaller, cheaper films are less risky. (For them it's not about the art so much as the business.)
Of course, then we'll have to live on a diet of mostly gore, since horror movies are cheap to make and draw crowds . . .
Well, let's tackle one problem at a time.
What we need now is a wider range of movies. We need a buffet. We need more options so that there's something at the multiplex for every taste.
I hope against hope that as crowds for tentpole films ebb like an outgoing tide, instead of putting all their eggs in one or two baskets, so to speak, studios will diversify. I hope they'll open up to developing new ideas and talents, and that the art of the pitch will make a comeback. I hope this in part for selfish reasons—I am a screenwriter who would like to be able to pitch my scripts and ideas—but also for the greater good. We as an audience need a better film diet. But until we demand it (and we do this by withholding our dollars from the blockbusters as much as by being vocal about wanting other kinds of movies, and by turning out to see those smaller films), the studios will only continue to serve up whatever they sit fit to cook.
On the flip side, however, there are hits like Iron Man 3 and Fast and Furious 6. And Man of Steel did well, too, though reviews were not 100% glowing.
Where does this leave us? Well, while I'd like to think it means studios might save a little money and put it aside for smaller films, my big fear is that even the big movies will be narrowed down to only those that are (a) sequels and/or (b) based on a comic book. Studios won't want to risk making anything original; they won't want to develop new product or try anything not already tested.
If movies were meals, as a viewing audience we'd now be subsisting on primarily junk food. (Maybe this explains why we're obese as a nation—mentally as well as physically.) "Smart" and "skinny" movies can't get produced except independently, and that's only when and if anyone can scrape together the money.
There's hope, though, in the small progress. Movies like Mud and Before Midnight and Fruitvale Station that can at least create a bit of buzz, thus cutting through the deafening roar of the action blockbusters. (Okay, yes, Before Midnight is also a sequel too, but there are no spaceships or superheroes at least.) Unfortunately, until these kinds of movies make serious money, the studios will probably continue to mostly ignore them. Or, should the glorious day ever come when the big movies no longer draw so many bodies, maybe the studios will then reconsider their slates and decide smaller, cheaper films are less risky. (For them it's not about the art so much as the business.)
Of course, then we'll have to live on a diet of mostly gore, since horror movies are cheap to make and draw crowds . . .
Well, let's tackle one problem at a time.
What we need now is a wider range of movies. We need a buffet. We need more options so that there's something at the multiplex for every taste.
I hope against hope that as crowds for tentpole films ebb like an outgoing tide, instead of putting all their eggs in one or two baskets, so to speak, studios will diversify. I hope they'll open up to developing new ideas and talents, and that the art of the pitch will make a comeback. I hope this in part for selfish reasons—I am a screenwriter who would like to be able to pitch my scripts and ideas—but also for the greater good. We as an audience need a better film diet. But until we demand it (and we do this by withholding our dollars from the blockbusters as much as by being vocal about wanting other kinds of movies, and by turning out to see those smaller films), the studios will only continue to serve up whatever they sit fit to cook.
5.02.2013
Books: Which Lie Did I Tell? by William Goldman
Finally took this off my shelf and read it, and it was lovely, but what I want to focus on here is the last part of the book in which Bill gives us his first draft (or parts of it anyway) of The Big A. If you haven't read it, what follows won't make any sense to you. But if you're serious about screenwriting, go find a copy of this book (Half Price Books usually has at least one) and read it and then come back and compare your answers to mine.
Let's start with the characters of Echo and Climber. Okay, let's just start with their names for Christ's sake. You've got two people with these bizarre nicknames (and no way for the audience to even know they're nicknames anyway because the dialogue doesn't reveal it, it's all in the description, ugh). One bizarre nickname, I could live with that (though I hate "Climber" and the reason for Echo's name is just dumb). Two is overkill. Drop one or both, or at least reduce one to an average nickname, like Bobbie for Roberta or whatever.
Next up: their romance. Is there any? I'm not feeling the love between these two, despite all the pat set-up. She's beautiful, he saves her, cue the swooning. Except I'm not swooning. I'm not seeing or feeling the chemistry here, and trying to give me the story of their lives together as a credit sequence more or less reduces whatever romance they supposedly have to a handful of pictures that I have no interest in.
And then there's the double rescue. He saves her, she saves him . . . Barf. Just no. If he falls in love with her the moment he sees her, and she falls for him when he rescues her, why have another rescue at all? What a waste of time. If it's meant to show Echo as a capable woman, well, whatever. Because everything that follows makes us dislike her. She's a rich bitch. She comes off as cold. I don't see Audrey Hepburn here so much as January Jones.
I'm boggled that Bill calls it a romantic comedy. Once the kids enter the picture, this feels to me like a Disney family flick. Capers and hijinks and such.
The opening rescue sequence . . . At first I thought we were in a 50s black-and-white film. I honestly thought it was a period piece of some kind. That scene needs to change or be cut or something. I don't have a ready answer for it, but in the book Tony Gilroy does a great job of creating a new opening, and I'd probably go with something like what he suggests.
And now we get to the boy's name. Shirley. Has to be short for Sherlock if you're going to keep it. Has to be. And not just because I love Sherlock Holmes, but because his father is a detective for Christ's sake, and he's not going to name his boy Shirley without a fucking good reason. One good reason: greatest detective of all time. Right? Otherwise, you gotta change this name.
Love the kids doing the double life thing. Don't know if I'd have it all come apart quite the way Bill has it, the bodega bit, and I feel like using the doubles for the various outings is a tad much. But I love the idea of all this, and how it goes south and Climber (Jesus, change that name) gets sidelined in the custody battle.
Okay, but then comes the second kidnapping. Which is too much for one movie, another reason to drop the opening. And I don't think it should be one of the kids who gets taken. I think it should be Trip.
Ha! Got you there, didn't I?
But hear me out. I think Echo has to call Climber and beg him to take the case. Her fiancé has been kidnapped. And Climber has no reason to want to help her of course, but she says she'll let him start seeing the kids again, more, longer, whatever it takes to get him to help.
And then, during the last act, of course Echo and Climber fall in love all over again. They find Trip just in time for Echo to kick him to the curb.
And it turns out the kids were the ones to do it (maybe with the help of their grandfather?). Because the motive was, of course, to get their parents back together.
As the script stands now (or did in 2000, when this book came out), I don't see enough between Echo and Climber to believe—to even want—them getting back together. Because I just didn't have time from what I saw/read to invest myself in a relationship between them. But if I'm given it as Tony Gilroy suggests, if it's a done deal at the start that they were once together and are now apart, then the kidnapping at the end can be used to rebuild what we as an audience know once existed. I mean, there will need to be pavers—those little tidbits throughout that show there was love there once and might be lingering feelings even now. But the real asphalt will get laid in that last act.
Anyway, those are my thoughts on The Big A. But overall Which Lie Did I Tell? is a great read, even without the exercise of the final chapter. Even if you're not a would-be screenwriter, the anecdotes are amusing. And I'm just glad to see that I'm not the only screenwriter who sometimes goes a bit "black" (as in large pockets of description or narration); look at the bit of Lehman's North by Northwest script, and damn, even I don't go that far.
I like that Bill Goldman and I like the same poems. "Richard Cory" did it for me, too, back in my school days. And I don't know if Bill only used the poem or if he likes it, but "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" is another one I love. Though I like "Once by the Pacific" more.
Another random connection: my mother's nickname is Sunny. Short for Sundance. Because of that movie. I grew up thinking her name was actually Sunny until I heard her parents (my grandparents) call her Annette. (Turns out Annette is only her middle name, either; like good Catholics, they gave her the first name Mary.) I don't know, just thought it was interesting. As Bill would say, "Aside over."
Now I'll probably work backward and go find Adventures in the Screen Trade. It was probably required reading for one or more of my film classes, though truthfully we used to be handed a lot of photocopies, so probably we only had to read one chapter or something. And I probably have that handout somewhere; I'm not seeing the book on my shelf (I organize my shelves by subject and author; my first job was in a library). So a trip to HPB is probably in order.
Let's start with the characters of Echo and Climber. Okay, let's just start with their names for Christ's sake. You've got two people with these bizarre nicknames (and no way for the audience to even know they're nicknames anyway because the dialogue doesn't reveal it, it's all in the description, ugh). One bizarre nickname, I could live with that (though I hate "Climber" and the reason for Echo's name is just dumb). Two is overkill. Drop one or both, or at least reduce one to an average nickname, like Bobbie for Roberta or whatever.
Next up: their romance. Is there any? I'm not feeling the love between these two, despite all the pat set-up. She's beautiful, he saves her, cue the swooning. Except I'm not swooning. I'm not seeing or feeling the chemistry here, and trying to give me the story of their lives together as a credit sequence more or less reduces whatever romance they supposedly have to a handful of pictures that I have no interest in.
And then there's the double rescue. He saves her, she saves him . . . Barf. Just no. If he falls in love with her the moment he sees her, and she falls for him when he rescues her, why have another rescue at all? What a waste of time. If it's meant to show Echo as a capable woman, well, whatever. Because everything that follows makes us dislike her. She's a rich bitch. She comes off as cold. I don't see Audrey Hepburn here so much as January Jones.
I'm boggled that Bill calls it a romantic comedy. Once the kids enter the picture, this feels to me like a Disney family flick. Capers and hijinks and such.
The opening rescue sequence . . . At first I thought we were in a 50s black-and-white film. I honestly thought it was a period piece of some kind. That scene needs to change or be cut or something. I don't have a ready answer for it, but in the book Tony Gilroy does a great job of creating a new opening, and I'd probably go with something like what he suggests.
And now we get to the boy's name. Shirley. Has to be short for Sherlock if you're going to keep it. Has to be. And not just because I love Sherlock Holmes, but because his father is a detective for Christ's sake, and he's not going to name his boy Shirley without a fucking good reason. One good reason: greatest detective of all time. Right? Otherwise, you gotta change this name.
Love the kids doing the double life thing. Don't know if I'd have it all come apart quite the way Bill has it, the bodega bit, and I feel like using the doubles for the various outings is a tad much. But I love the idea of all this, and how it goes south and Climber (Jesus, change that name) gets sidelined in the custody battle.
Okay, but then comes the second kidnapping. Which is too much for one movie, another reason to drop the opening. And I don't think it should be one of the kids who gets taken. I think it should be Trip.
Ha! Got you there, didn't I?
But hear me out. I think Echo has to call Climber and beg him to take the case. Her fiancé has been kidnapped. And Climber has no reason to want to help her of course, but she says she'll let him start seeing the kids again, more, longer, whatever it takes to get him to help.
And then, during the last act, of course Echo and Climber fall in love all over again. They find Trip just in time for Echo to kick him to the curb.
And it turns out the kids were the ones to do it (maybe with the help of their grandfather?). Because the motive was, of course, to get their parents back together.
As the script stands now (or did in 2000, when this book came out), I don't see enough between Echo and Climber to believe—to even want—them getting back together. Because I just didn't have time from what I saw/read to invest myself in a relationship between them. But if I'm given it as Tony Gilroy suggests, if it's a done deal at the start that they were once together and are now apart, then the kidnapping at the end can be used to rebuild what we as an audience know once existed. I mean, there will need to be pavers—those little tidbits throughout that show there was love there once and might be lingering feelings even now. But the real asphalt will get laid in that last act.
Anyway, those are my thoughts on The Big A. But overall Which Lie Did I Tell? is a great read, even without the exercise of the final chapter. Even if you're not a would-be screenwriter, the anecdotes are amusing. And I'm just glad to see that I'm not the only screenwriter who sometimes goes a bit "black" (as in large pockets of description or narration); look at the bit of Lehman's North by Northwest script, and damn, even I don't go that far.
I like that Bill Goldman and I like the same poems. "Richard Cory" did it for me, too, back in my school days. And I don't know if Bill only used the poem or if he likes it, but "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" is another one I love. Though I like "Once by the Pacific" more.
Another random connection: my mother's nickname is Sunny. Short for Sundance. Because of that movie. I grew up thinking her name was actually Sunny until I heard her parents (my grandparents) call her Annette. (Turns out Annette is only her middle name, either; like good Catholics, they gave her the first name Mary.) I don't know, just thought it was interesting. As Bill would say, "Aside over."
Now I'll probably work backward and go find Adventures in the Screen Trade. It was probably required reading for one or more of my film classes, though truthfully we used to be handed a lot of photocopies, so probably we only had to read one chapter or something. And I probably have that handout somewhere; I'm not seeing the book on my shelf (I organize my shelves by subject and author; my first job was in a library). So a trip to HPB is probably in order.
3.26.2013
Books: Official Release of The K-Pro
Cross posted from PepperWords
The big day has arrived! You can now get your copy of The K-Pro in a variety of formats:
Or read the first chapter for free here!
Andra Martineau is no ordinary young woman. She's a Klêidouchos Propylaia (K-Pro for short), which means she has the unique ability to help certain people get exactly what they want. And Andra is good at her job—her clients have gone on to become a veritable who's who of the rich and famous.
David Styles is an up-and-coming actor with everything going for him: looks, talent, and countless beautiful women vying for his attention. But when Andra turns up in his bed demanding to know what he wants, his perfect world starts to spiral out of control. And it's not just his reputation on the line—what David doesn't know can certainly harm him, in ways he couldn't possibly begin to imagine.
With the help of David's incorrigible costar, Andra begins to realize not only her own true nature, but David's hidden identity as well. Andra is forced to battle not only her attraction to David (and she never gets involved with clients), but the being within him that wants to take away everything she holds dear. As David continues to lose himself to the strengthening form within him, Andra navigates the jealousies of the film's director and David's would-be paramour in an effort to save him. She can make others' wishes come true . . . But can she grant her own?
Funny, readable, and populated with a host of entertaining personalities, The K-Pro is a fast-paced contemporary fantasy with a touch of romance.
So far the reviews have been good, too:
Random Trivia: The K-Pro is dedicated to Benedict [Cumberbatch] because he was my original inspiration for the character of David Styles.
*signed copies will be available through Tintagel's Gate
The big day has arrived! You can now get your copy of The K-Pro in a variety of formats:
Or read the first chapter for free here!
Andra Martineau is no ordinary young woman. She's a Klêidouchos Propylaia (K-Pro for short), which means she has the unique ability to help certain people get exactly what they want. And Andra is good at her job—her clients have gone on to become a veritable who's who of the rich and famous.
David Styles is an up-and-coming actor with everything going for him: looks, talent, and countless beautiful women vying for his attention. But when Andra turns up in his bed demanding to know what he wants, his perfect world starts to spiral out of control. And it's not just his reputation on the line—what David doesn't know can certainly harm him, in ways he couldn't possibly begin to imagine.
With the help of David's incorrigible costar, Andra begins to realize not only her own true nature, but David's hidden identity as well. Andra is forced to battle not only her attraction to David (and she never gets involved with clients), but the being within him that wants to take away everything she holds dear. As David continues to lose himself to the strengthening form within him, Andra navigates the jealousies of the film's director and David's would-be paramour in an effort to save him. She can make others' wishes come true . . . But can she grant her own?
Funny, readable, and populated with a host of entertaining personalities, The K-Pro is a fast-paced contemporary fantasy with a touch of romance.
So far the reviews have been good, too:
"I’d recommend “The K-Pro” to readers of contemporary fiction whether or not they’re fans of fantasy—this isn’t fantasy in the “quest through a made-up world” sense, but in the sense that it takes our own world and douses it in a little magic. This is a charming, well-written and well-plotted book that makes me look forward to more by this author." –Erica Lucas
"This novel has everything that you want in a good fantasy novel . . . The characters are easy to fall in love with." –J. HollisterAnd once you've bought your copy of The K-Pro, please hop over to Christine Rains' blog. She's helping me celebrate this release by hosting an article I've written about my adventures in self-publishing. It's been quite the learning curve, but it helps to have a marketer in the family. Still, even if you don't have personal access to a marketing guru, I give a few tips for self-publishing success. So go take a look!
Random Trivia: The K-Pro is dedicated to Benedict [Cumberbatch] because he was my original inspiration for the character of David Styles.
*signed copies will be available through Tintagel's Gate
3.02.2013
Books: What Do You Hear from Walden Pond? by Jack Douglas
This is a book I picked up years and years ago in a second-hand bookstore. Those places are filled with such treasures, books one would never have found, never have heard of. I'd never heard of Jack Douglas before finding this book, though according to the flyleaf he'd written several other books besides. But this one is from 1971, which is before I was born, and so Douglas clearly belongs to an earlier generation than mine.
Doesn't stop my enjoyment of him, though.
What Do You Hear from Walden Pond? is for people who enjoy the likes of, say, Dave Barry. It's slice-of-life humor in which Douglas writes about moving his family from Ontario to Los Angeles after he gets tapped to help write a screenplay. Hilarity ensues as Douglas, his Japanese wife, their sons, two dogs, a wolf, and a mountain lion navigate the Hollywood system. (And trust me, even with the menagerie, Douglas is still more sane than the studio execs.)
Sample text:
"How would you like to go to California?" I said.
"You mean Disneyland?" Bobby said.
"I guess I do," I said. "But they used to call it California."
Okay, so maybe I like this book because I'm a screenwriter. (I'm allowed to say that for real now that I've won an award.) But even before I'd written my first script, or even read anything by Dave Barry, I liked this book, which I discovered when I was in junior high. I take it off my shelf every few years and re-read it, usually over the summer; it's good, light-hearted fare for that time of year. And so now, as the weather out here on the West Coast is warming, and as I've been tapped to write a script of my own, I'm thinking about giving Douglas my attention once more.
And one day I'll maybe even go find some of his other books, too.
Doesn't stop my enjoyment of him, though.
What Do You Hear from Walden Pond? is for people who enjoy the likes of, say, Dave Barry. It's slice-of-life humor in which Douglas writes about moving his family from Ontario to Los Angeles after he gets tapped to help write a screenplay. Hilarity ensues as Douglas, his Japanese wife, their sons, two dogs, a wolf, and a mountain lion navigate the Hollywood system. (And trust me, even with the menagerie, Douglas is still more sane than the studio execs.)
Sample text:
"How would you like to go to California?" I said.
"You mean Disneyland?" Bobby said.
"I guess I do," I said. "But they used to call it California."
Okay, so maybe I like this book because I'm a screenwriter. (I'm allowed to say that for real now that I've won an award.) But even before I'd written my first script, or even read anything by Dave Barry, I liked this book, which I discovered when I was in junior high. I take it off my shelf every few years and re-read it, usually over the summer; it's good, light-hearted fare for that time of year. And so now, as the weather out here on the West Coast is warming, and as I've been tapped to write a script of my own, I'm thinking about giving Douglas my attention once more.
And one day I'll maybe even go find some of his other books, too.
2.19.2013
The Hollywood Walk of Fame
At the risk of sounding a little like Andy Rooney . . .
I don't know how much of this signifies a change in policy versus ignorance just being bliss, but it seems like just about anyone can get a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame these days.
When I was a kid, I had this notion you had to have worked pretty long and hard for such an honor. Being in one or two television shows or movies didn't make the grade (unless maybe one of those shows had been on the air for 20 years). A star was a kind of cap to a career. Not that you were ready to retire, but you had more behind you than you might ahead of you.
So how much of this stems from a childish view and how much of it indicates a change in the way stars are awarded? I really have no idea. But Richard Burton isn't getting one until next week, whereas Simon Baker got one last week. Really? Simon Baker before Richard Burton?
Seems a shame to devalue these things. There can only be so much available pavement after all. Maybe they should raise the standards a bit, give these actors and musicians something to aim for.
I don't know how much of this signifies a change in policy versus ignorance just being bliss, but it seems like just about anyone can get a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame these days.
When I was a kid, I had this notion you had to have worked pretty long and hard for such an honor. Being in one or two television shows or movies didn't make the grade (unless maybe one of those shows had been on the air for 20 years). A star was a kind of cap to a career. Not that you were ready to retire, but you had more behind you than you might ahead of you.
So how much of this stems from a childish view and how much of it indicates a change in the way stars are awarded? I really have no idea. But Richard Burton isn't getting one until next week, whereas Simon Baker got one last week. Really? Simon Baker before Richard Burton?
Seems a shame to devalue these things. There can only be so much available pavement after all. Maybe they should raise the standards a bit, give these actors and musicians something to aim for.
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