~ Mental Origami ~

tap tap Is this thing on?

2011-09-28T16:14:00.007-04:00

Kinda ran low on blogworthy stuff to say after I got my foot wedged in the door of Hollywood. There's little I've learned or seen or done since then that hasn't already been covered by the heavier-hitters of the Scribosphere.

And frankly, I procrasturbate too much as it is.

That said, it would be a shame and a distressing lack of closure if I failed to share THIS or this:

So there's that.

I'm told to expect an invitation in the mail soon for the October 12th premiere at Grauman's Chinese. If you're in LA or inclined to go there, get free tickets HERE. I'd love to see you there!

An awesome day on set of THE BLIND SIDE

2009-05-28T16:58:00.003-04:00

John Lee Hancock, generous friend and mentor, let me shadow him for a few days of "director's school" earlier this month. Big difference from the time I spent on my own set when we shot THE POOL BOYS: back then, I hadn’t been on a feature set before, so I concentrated on staying out of the damn shot and not tripping over anything while trying to figure out what everybody’s jobs were.

As my eyes and brain have now adjusted to the sight of hundreds of crew scurrying around wielding lethal-looking equipment, I was able to focus on how the hell you go from the mostly-solitary work of writing a screenplay to directing a multi-million-dollar production.

I feel luckier than maybe any screenwriter outside of JLH, himself, when he learned from Eastwood. I mean, I was just happy to be on set, absorbing what I could. Certainly never expected JLH to have or take or make the time to answer and encourage questions (including those I didn’t know enough to ask).

Cool as it was to meet Sandra Bullock, and to chat about our kids with Tim McGraw and Faith Hill, it was way cooler when JLH explained the effects you get from different lenses and when to use them.

Yesterday was different from my previous days on set, ‘cause Munchie, our aspiring actress, worked as an extra. The scene was a high school volleyball game and Munchie was in the stands with a couple hundred other extras. When they first filed in, she was all the way on the far side of the bleachers. But somehow, when they were setting up the shot, she was moved a few times and got herself placed just over the left shoulder of Sandy’s stand-in. (This was 100% coincidental. I asked.) She sat with another girl and her mom and they didn’t realize the pretty girl in front of them was Sandy’s stand-in, but Munchie acted perfectly professional when April left and Sandy sat down.

Because they were in the shot, Munchie and a small handful of other extras didn’t get to break when the others did, but my kid never complained. When they were finally released for lunch, her energy was great. “John talked to us three times and said we were doing great, and Tim asked how we were doing, and Sandy said ‘Don’t eat too much popcorn,’ and the lady with the cool afro came up and put product in my hair!”

After lunch I introduced Munchie and her new friend to Sandy’s co-star, the sweet-faced and sweeter-souled Quinton Aaron.

Later, when her scene finally wrapped (after ten hours), she didn’t want to leave set, so we went to the second location and I got to formally introduce her to JLH and a few of the producers. Each time I made introductions, she was warm and poised, shook hands and chatted a moment. I was never that confident as a kid. (Or for most of my adult life, to be honest…)

We spent about an hour watching the next scene on the monitors before heading home. The second location was tight and Munchie stayed quiet and out of the way, like she’d been on set her whole life. If I had any reservations about schlepping her to auditions or shelling out for classes, they’re gone. I couldn’t be prouder of her – she acted like a pro all day.

And now, back to my rewrite, ‘cause as much as I enjoyed visiting John’s set, I’m itching to get back to one of my own…

Put Your Records On

2009-05-06T12:13:00.006-04:00

Munchie and her girlfriend auditioned for the 5th grade talent show yesterday. This is a recording of their practice.

"Proud" doesn't quite cover it...

Hi.

2008-10-26T21:36:00.004-04:00

Yeah, it’s me. I know, I suck and I’m sorry. But you knew I wasn’t the most reliable blogger and the frequency of my posts isn’t why you love me, anyway, so let’s not argue. Okay? We’re good then? Good.

To catch you up, the fam and I are comfortably settled in our new digs just northwest of Atlanta. We love it here – it’s got lots of cool stuff we didn’t have in Florida, like “hills” and “seasons” and “basements.” My sister and her family live just a couple streets over, which is fun and convenient, there are hundreds of kids in the neighborhood so ours are rarely bored and we’ve got some very cool neighbors who enjoy a glass or three of wine as much as I do. Soon as I figure out how to dress in layers so I don’t freeze my ass off (shut up – it is not too late), I’ll be a happy girl, indeed.

On the writing front, the movie-related lawsuit settled amicably and after too-long away, I’m back in the saddle. Just turned in a treatment to my producer and manager – planning the next rewrite of THE MIDDLE AGES. Looks like it’s gonna be a page-one, but that’s cool. It’s part of the process and I’ve got some new stuff in there I’m excited to write.

Got back from my sixth Austin Film Festival last week -- the second I’ve attended as a panelist. This year, I judged two pitch competition sessions and talked to high school filmmakers in a roundtable. Having pitched at the AFF competition myself, back in ’03 (my 60-second rendition of POOL BOY, the script that later became the movie AMERICAN SUMMER), I get a kick out of the full-circleness of my being a pitch judge. The pitches this year were surprisingly good – even the writers who stumbled over their words had unique, compelling stories. And I really enjoyed chatting with the high school kids at the roundtable sessions. They were sharp and expansive-minded, much smarter than I was at their age – in a whole ‘nother league, to be honest. Just hope they weren’t too disappointed when the rotation landed me at their tables, instead of Terry Rossio or John Turman or one of the other hot-shottier panelists.

As happens every year, I returned from Austin with lots of gut-deep emotional parting gifts. Still processing this year’s goodies, especially a few gems from Lawrence Kasdan and Shane Black. Both gave me hope and made me ache for completely different reasons, yet to the same end.

I almost didn’t make it to Austin this year, yet looking back, I think it was my most important AFF so far. I haven’t fully identified what I took from there but I’ve been wrapping myself up in it ‘cause it keeps the chill at bay and it sure can get drafty up here in the saddle...

Declaring my Independence from Tzures*

2008-07-04T23:59:00.002-04:00

*Noun. tsoo r-is (Yiddish) Aggravation, frustration; “Oy, the tzures I’ve got, you should know from it.”

Lately, I feel like as soon something good happens, Big Corporate (in either brick-and-mortar or meat form) comes along and takes a steaming dump on it.

There’ve been a handful of instances of this the last couple years. Some you know about, some I can’t discuss. Some have been fixed, others may never be. They all stink.

The latest in the shit-on-my-happiness processional has to do with our upcoming move. We got some good offers on our house and found a nearly-perfect one to buy in our new area. Everything was rolling along smoothly to close the sale of the old and the purchase of the new in time to settle in before the kids start their new school. We’re supposed to move in less than two weeks, but now our buyer’s mortgage company says we need to bump the closing well past that date. Which also bumps our purchase of the new home (and, incidentally, bumps the people we’re buying from and the closing of their new home). I’ll spare you the clusterfuck of rescheduling movers, rerouting mail, resetting dates for utilities to be shut off and how annoyed I’ll be if we lose our interest rate.

I’m up to my eyeballs in boxes (well, if I’m reclining…) and between the housing issues, film stuff I can’t talk about and having the kids home from school, I’ve got plenty of excuses to choose from when berating myself for my lack of progress on the writing front.

But I’m damn lucky and I know it. There aren’t many people I’d wanna swap problems with. I’ve done a lot that I’m proud of and I’ve got lots to look forward to. (That makes me the very picture of mental health, doesn't it? Yeah, I thought so, too.)

So, I guess I’ll just keep plugging along and try not to kvetch.

The answer is "nothing."

2008-04-17T13:02:00.002-04:00

The question was "What is she smoking?"

Did it throw you in my last post when I got all metaphorical and shit? Sorry 'bout that. I just felt like touching base but everything had (has) kinda been in limbo, so there wasn't a whole lot to share, really. Things have been inching in a forward-like, slo-mo-momentumish direction, so I can't bitch... too much.

I've got a conference call later today with Hot & Smart Chick Manager and Incredibly Cool & Smart Producer Who’s Nevertheless a Fan of My Work to talk about my next draft of THE MIDDLE AGES. They both dig my new treatment and I'm excited to get back into it. (If you've been reading here a while, you may have noticed that this script is taking forfuckingever to finish. It kills me that it's been this long, but to be fair, in the time it took me to write a few unique drafts of TMA, I had a movie made, engaged in a legal battle and kept the wife-and-mom plates spinning on their respective sticks. I might slow down, but I'll never stop.)

During this limbo period, I've been working out like a fiend -- Pilates and kickboxing classes. Love them both. Unfortunately, these particular classes are scheduled consecutively, Tuesdays and Thursdays. I hate to miss a class, so I've been doing an hour Pilates class, catching my breath for 15 minutes, then jumping into an hour kickboxing class. It's fun to imagine the people I'm punching and kicking as I pant and wheeze.

Aside from all that, we're fixing up the house, trying to get it in sell-shape with hopes of moving up near my sister and her family outside Atlanta. Manual labor is hard. Especially after Pilates and kickboxing.

And, it's time I say it here: I love David Cook. Have a thing for Jason Castro, too, and would happily sit at his feet and listen to him and his acoustic for hours. But I've loved Cook since his audition. Love his intensity and his choices and his haunting voice. I've watched Idol off and on most seasons, but was never this passionate about any of the contestants 'til Cook. There's a kind of magic there.

I don't know what it is, exactly, but I think it's the difference between Good and Great. Lots of people have talent and proficiency. Lots of people work hard and study their craft. Few of those are great. Maybe it has something to do with energy, vibrations, frequency... like, some people think and work and transmit on a higher level...

No, really. I swear, I'm not smoking anything.

Hello, from the precipice of the Cliffs of Insanity!

2008-03-31T16:16:00.002-04:00

I started climbing in ’02 – sometimes giving it my best effort, sometimes lazily. Always reading and listening and watching and learning. Eventually, I pulled close enough to touch knuckles with the people on top.

Then I really dug in and took a leap of faith… and the Universe lowered a rope to help me up and let me grab a rock and catch my breath before fighting again.

It’s been a while – longer than I’d hoped -- but this week there may finally be Movement in the Right Direction on a couple of work fronts.

Time to dig in again, ‘cause ready or not, the Universe has been more than fair.

Taste This

2008-03-02T19:06:00.003-05:00

A couple weeks ago, I went to LA. I’ve been dying to get back there since my last trip in '05. (I know it's a little strange that I signed with Way-Cool Manager in ‘06 and had a movie made in '07 without a visit to LA, but Bizarro World is my natural habitat).

This time, I flew out for a meeting relative to my lawsuit but decided to stay a couple extra days and make the trip productive.

Here's something I noticed: Hollywood feels different when you’re part of it than when you’re merely visiting. After I picked up the rental car, I headed toward the hills and got my first post-production glimpse of the Hollywood sign -- and couldn’t help grinning like the dork I’ll always be.

Spent my first night, Saturday, in Pasadena at a close friend’s place. Coming from Florida -- which has the topographic relief of plywood -- I loved Pasadena and the mountains all around. Met some friends out that night at NeoMeze, a funky restaurant in Old Town, and made merry ‘til the time difference (and lingering laryngitis) caught up with me.

Sunday morning, I drove back to LA and met an exec-friend for brunch at La Conversation in Beverly Hills (I recommend the French Toast). Snagged a nice little table on the sidewalk beside a couple of older guys discussing a script. I didn't recognize their faces, but I bet I'd recognize their names. Anyway, I hadn’t seen this exec-friend since we were children (our moms are best friends) so it was fun getting to know her a bit and catching up on our lives.

Afterward, I tooled over to the less-glamorous side of town to check into the hotel I’d call home for the next few nights. There, I discovered my room got no cell reception and no internet and I had a brief hyperventilish 28 DAYS LATER moment.

Ran back down to the lobby to make contact with the outside world, then picked up Greg and went to Doughboys. I enjoyed a gallon-mug of latte and some good conversation and discovered he’s really not so Grumpy. (Sorry to out you, G.)

Quick wardrobe change, then up to Studio City to do dinner with 2.5 cousins. They took me to Genghis Cohen, which is the best name for a Chinese restaurant, ever (and is, in fact, not in Studio City, but just a few minutes from my freaking hotel). The food and atmosphere were terrific -– plus, my cousin's husband pointed out Mary J. Blige at the table behind us, and their adorable 18 month-old son ran smack into Elle Fanning outside the restroom. I loved the place.

But now I was running late to my own damn party. On my girlfriend’s recommendation, I’d invited a bunch of friends to Three of Clubs on N. Vine. Driving down from Studio City in the dark I couldn’t find Vine. Then I couldn’t find the address. Then I couldn’t find the damn entrance to the joint. About two hours late, I finally found my way into the pitch-dark bar. Some voices called out to me, “Norm”-like, when I entered, but it was a few minutes before my eyes adjusted enough to make out who-all I was hugging. Fun little bar, great time with great friends. Or whoever those people were.

Driving back to my hotel in the dark… bright lights of Hollywood all around… that dorky grin again…

We’ll skip Monday, which was an all-day meeting, the reason for my trip, and largely uneventful. (Perhaps, one day, I’ll share the “eventful” bits…) I will say, though, that my litigation attorney is brilliant and if y’all are ever involved in a lawsuit, you should be so lucky as to have him in your corner.

Monday night the laryngitis threatened a relapse, but a girl’s gotta eat. A delightful pro-writer-dude I've known online for a while met me at trés cool Sushi Roku in Hollywood. The food was delicious –- I’m sure my chopsticks were a blur -- and I chugged buckets of hot green tea, miso soup and wee cups of sake and somehow held onto my voice, which I needed for…

…Tuesday -- and my morning meeting with the Incredibly Cool & Smart Producer Who’s Nevertheless a Fan of My Work at a Starbucks in Beverly Hills. Not one to shun tradition, I got lost and wound up an unfashionable 20 minutes late. Luckily, she didn’t hold it against me, Gomer From Out of Town that I am. We got to know each other and swapped life stories and gossip for a while. Then she proceeded to give me in-depth and dead-on notes on THE MIDDLE AGES –- verbally, off-the-cuff, with nothing in hand but her iced coffee. And she told me not to worry about writing any of it down, she’d email it to me later (which she did: six pages’ worth of insight all geared toward helping me fulfill the promise of my premise). When I learn to chisel busts out of marble, I am so doing hers first.

From there, I had to rush off to meet my transactional attorney for lunch. We’ve spoken on the phone hundreds of times since he negotiated my POOL BOY option, but this was the first we’d met. I was enjoying the bird’s-eye view of Beverly Hills from his lobby, when he came out and greeted me with a big hug. Good thing, too, ‘cause I had one for him that was long overdue. We’d planned a little party, but my Way-Cool Manager was home with the flu and my litigation attorney was fluish, too, so it was just the two of us at Mr. Chow. The fact that I’d heard of the restaurant should’ve tipped me off to its hot-spotness, but I was enjoying the company and the food so much, I almost missed seeing Keenan Ivory Wayans and Kevin Sorbo. (Not together -– let's not start any rumors…) I’m not a neck-craning celebrity-watcher, so I can’t tell you who else was there that didn’t happen to walk in front of me.

After lunch, I headed off to my Way-Cool Manager’s office to meet his Equally-Cool Partners. One of the partners -- I’ll call her Hot & Smart Chick Manager -- I’ve spoken with on the phone a few times and gotten some kick-ass notes from, and I was especially looking forward to meeting her. She was just as smart and hot in person and we talked all over the industry and the town and my work and my career and before I knew it, I’d overstayed my parking meter by like 30 minutes.

Brett had told me he’d gotten a $47 parking ticket in LA, so I expected the envelope on the windshield. Didn’t expect the ticket to be $140, though. (Apparently, they don’t like you to park along Wilshire after 4pm. Now you know.) And to think, I’d parked at the meter ‘cause I wanted to avoid paying $12 for parking...

By now, it was nearly 5pm and I was freaking exhausted and losing my voice again. I dragged myself into Rite Aid, bought some lozenges and a crappy nukable dinner and ate them in my room. (The room didn’t have cell or internet access, but it did have a functional microwave.) I was in bed by 7pm, watched two hours of Idol boys, then conked out -- ready to step off the Hollywood treadmill and get back home to my own personal chaos.

Reliving the trip through this post, I've noticed a few things:

~I ate my way across Los Angeles. Lucky for me, I have very little social life here at home, else I'd be a house.

~I know (all too well) that there are a lot of greedy assholes in Hollywood, but the gods of such things have smiled upon me and hooked me up with The Good Guys.

~If you want to see celebrities when you visit LA, go out for Chinese.

Whew!

2008-02-12T23:51:00.002-05:00

Glad that's over.

(A million thanks to everyone who worked so hard to get this new deal for the WGA.)

Box O Chocolates

2008-02-02T23:15:00.000-05:00

I just finished Diablo Cody’s book, “Candy Girl.” It’s a fun, fast read. She and I aren’t so very different. Similar privileged upbringings – Chicago Catholic vs. Upstate New York Jew. When I first started dating my hubby, there was a brief period in which I toyed with idea of working in a men’s club at night so I could quit my straight job and write during the day. I never auditioned or even entered a club with that in mind, so I don’t know if I could or would have really done it, but it was cool to read DC’s account and see what I missed.

Went to a matinee of JUNO a couple weeks ago. First movie I’ve seen in the theater by myself in years. It was in the biggest theater of the 22-plex at our mall and I was all alone in there until the lights went down and a few other people wandered in. I was disappointed at first, thinking it would’ve been cool to watch it in there alone, but then I realized how very dark it got and how something or someone could be hiding behind any of those seats and I knew I’d be watching over my shoulder more than watching the screen, so it was probably a good thing the others arrived. And I really dug the movie, too. Ellen Page is fabulous. The whole cast was, really. I can’t or won’t comment on its Oscar-worthiness, ‘cause I’ve loved and hated other Oscar winners and contenders and nobody asked me, anyway.

Saw STRANGE WILDERNESS yesterday, ‘cause hubby and I were in need of some highbrow entertainment. If you like stupid, stoner humor, it pays off. I was in the mood for stupid, stoner humor, so I laughed a lot. I’ve missed Steve Zahn.

Starting in October, I had this stiffness in my upper back that would come out of nowhere, stick around a few days, then disappear and return the next month. Recurring, chronic pain isn’t my bag, so I had my first-ever chiropractic adjustment a few weeks ago. The doc folded me into some impossible positions, squeezed ‘til I crunched, then released me. My back was stiff and tender in new places for a few hours, but that went away and I’ve felt better ever since. I give Chiropractic Treatment a recommend.

I’m trying to read “Wicked” by Gregory Maguire. I loved the show on Broadway and I knew when I started that the book is very, very different, but I’m having a hell of a time getting into this story and I’ve already given it about 150 pages. Not sure how much more I can give before I bail.

Recently watched THE TEN via NetFlix. I thought it was clever and fun. I love Paul Rudd. Funny is sexy.

Also watched MR. WOODCOCK and determined that since Billy Bob Thornton and Susan Sarandon don’t have to be in shit movies, it must’ve once been a pretty good script. But, wow. That was a Stupid Movie. Not Funny-Stupid, like STRANGE WILDERNESS and other silly movies I occasionally enjoy like cheap candy. Just Really Fucking Stupid-Stupid.

Tomorrow, Munchie, Malfoy and I are seeing the Hannah Montana concert movie. I bought the tickets before Christmas and I’m glad I did – some of the screenings are already sold out. I don’t mind Hannah Montana – Miley Cyrus seems like a sweet girl (better than Britney, if we’re talking role models) and I’m sure Daddy Cyrus will make an appearance in the movie to keep the moms interested. I'll survive.

I hope the swirling rumors about progress in the strike talks are true. I’m ready to pull my “Writer” hat back on and bump the hausfrau gig to the back burner again... ‘cause y’know I’ve got the best of both worlds!

Happy '08!

2008-01-01T14:27:00.000-05:00

Hope y'all had as much fun welcoming the new year as we did:

Get Your Party On ~ HAPPY NEW YEAR! | Funny Jokes at JibJab

Thou shalt not…

2007-12-13T13:43:00.000-05:00

…break into my husband’s car and steal his ipod and his satellite radio.

Yeah, merry frigging Christmas. At least the folks at Sirius were nice enough to replace the unit for free, since we’ve been nice enough to subscribe to their service for like three years. And whoever buys or is gifted with Hubby’s radio will be unhappy to find it's been deactivated and won't work. Punk-ass kids.

Speaking of commandments, most of y’all know there's a lot of talk about boycotting the movie, THE GOLDEN COMPASS. (I contend the mediocre box office has more to do with a lack of interest in Nicole Kidman and a lack of scenes wherein Daniel Craig is disrobed, but that’s a discussion for another day.)

As a writer, I hate the idea of anything that feels at all like censorship, but as a mom, I fully understand the primal need to protect my kids.

I've read info from a number of Catholics and Christians who are up in arms and spreading the word that Philip Pullman, author of the books on which the film is based, is atheist -- which is true, and people of religion certainly should consider this before choosing to take their kids to the film. But some of these folks are also mixing in inflammatory stuff that isn't true, intended, I imagine, to up the indignancy level.

Hypocrisy pisses me off. (“Thou shalt not lie” anyone?)

We all have to do what's right for us and our families, so in the spirit of making well-educated choices, I'm sharing an article about THE GOLDEN COMPASS (link below) which states in part (emphasis added):

The U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops' Office for Film and Broadcasting gave the film, which is rated PG-13, a warm review. The film is not blatantly anti-Catholic but a "generalized rejection of authoritarianism," it said.

While noting the story's "spirit of rebellion and stark individualism," the office said Lyra and her allies' stand for free will in opposition to the coercive force of the Magisterium is "entirely in harmony with Catholic teaching."

Sister Rose Paccate, director of the Pauline Center of Media Studies in Culver City, Calif., said the books portray benevolence toward children and a God figure — just one that's much different than the one Christians know.

She sees irony in calls to shun the film, considering that one of Pullman's central themes is that people should not follow orders and forfeit critical thought.

"If you just say 'no' to your kids without engaging in a conversation, they're going to see the movie anyway and all you're teaching them is power, not really teaching your values," Paccate said. "If we have faith, what are we afraid of?"

Donna Freitas, a visiting assistant professor of religion at Boston University, goes a step further, calling the books a "theological masterpiece." Pullman's intent aside, she views the trilogy as a treatise on Christian belief.

To Freitas, the series' mysterious "Dust" — portrayed in the books as connected to original sin — represents the Holy Spirit. Pullman is not attacking religion but those who use power to corrupt, she said.

Freitas, who co-authored a book on Pullman and religion, says that "ultimately, the arch of the trilogy is about revealing God."

Full article here.

A friend I sent this info to thanked me for taking a stand, but I'm neither for nor against the film, really. I haven't seen it and don't know anyone involved (although I've met Chris Weitz, and he seems very cool and genuine). Is it still "taking a stand" if the only stand I take is to make informed choices? I'm not trying to talk people out of skipping the film, but an uninformed, lemming-like boycott is the kind of fanatical response that scares the living hell outta me.

Maybe I'll lobby for an 11th Commandment: “Thou shalt think for thine own self.”

Oh. Snerk!

Waitaminute. I take it back. That’ll never fly…

Jiffy Lube

2007-12-11T12:14:00.000-05:00

I’ve been kinda at a loss for what to write here, lately.

There’s the strike, but, sadly, I live too far away to walk the picket lines and risk bodily injury from Carson Daly’s monster truck or Jay Leno’s donuts. I’m not on the WGA negotiating committee. Nick Counter isn’t my crazy neighbor’s ball-gag wearing gimp (anymore).

So I really have nothing fresh to feed the inquirement of the Strikeosphere. Sure, I can regurg strike intel from other sites, but why? I have it on good authority that Nikki Finke is about as close to accurate as strike reporting can get, so, you want the info? Go there.

I'm an equal opportunity linker and I think it's smart in any dispute to know where your opponent's coming from, so be sure to check the AMPTP's site, too.

With all this excitement, sometimes it's easy to forget that there is other stuff going on in my world.

F’rinstance, tonight’s the last night of Chanukah. Which now gives us about two weeks to get ready for Christmas (mixed family + 2 kids = not cheap). Munchie’s 9 now, and at an age where she’s pretty sure there’s not really a Santa Claus, but is afraid she won’t get any presents if she doesn’t believe. (She debunked the Tooth Fairy last year. Thank god. I was starting to worry she wasn’t as bright as I’d thought.)

A few nights ago, Munchie asked if the phone calls she gets on Christmas each year are really from Santa. I responded, “How should I know? I’m Jewish. Ask Daddy.”

I am not taking that bullet.

In other news, THE MIDDLE AGES is “done” in that not-really-doneish way that screenplays ever are. I may get notes from a couple more brutally-honest-writer-friends, and then maybe I'll have more work 'til it's done-done. But for now, it gathers virtual dust, awaiting the end of the strike, so my way-cool manager can do his thing.

I’m marinating a new spec idea, but haven’t begun actually stringing words on it, yet. I don’t wanna get write-rusty, though, so, in an effort to stay, erm… well-lubed, I’m gonna start blogging more. ‘Course, I say that now... (edited to add: Jeezus -- could I mix more metaphors?!)

I do hate blathering aimlessly. I spec’ed a “Seinfeld” once, but even the show about nothing was still about something. I’ll try not to bore. No promises, though.

As if the WGA strike wasn't enough bad news...

2007-12-02T13:34:00.000-05:00

...now Zombies are taking over Hollywood!

p.s. Carson Daly, if you're ever in the Orlando area, swing on by and kiss my ass.

Nick Counter's Rollback Daze!

2007-11-30T11:27:00.001-05:00

In case you've somehow missed it (cribbed off Nikki Finke):

THURSDAY PM UPDATE: I'm told WGA negotiators are still waiting for the other "half" of the AMPTP's Day #4 new proposals (the half that presumably contains the missing terms on ESTs, electronic sell-throughs?) which agent Bryan Lourd said should be in their hands by Tuesday if not before. Then the writers will make a counter-offer to producers on Tuesday. Here's the WGA West and East email to members critical of today's New Media offers by the AMPTP on streaming, content made for new media, and programming delivered over digital broadcast channels:

To Our Fellow Members,

After four days of bargaining with the AMPTP, we are writing to let you know that, though we are still at the table, the press blackout has been lifted.

Our inability to communicate with our members has left a vacuum of information that has been filled with rumors, both well intentioned and deceptive.

Among the rumors was the assertion that the AMPTP had a groundbreaking proposal that would make this negotiation a "done deal." In fact, for the first three days of this week, the companies presented in essence their November 4 package with not an iota of movement on any of the issues that matter to writers.

Thursday morning, the first new proposal was finally presented to us. It dealt only with streaming and made-for-Internet jurisdiction, and it amounts to a massive rollback.

For streaming television episodes, the companies proposed a residual structure of a single fixed payment of less than $250 for a year's reuse of an hour-long program (compared to over $20,000 payable for a network rerun). For theatrical product they are offering no residuals whatsoever for streaming.

For made-for-Internet material, they offered minimums that would allow a studio to produce up to a 15 minute episode of network-derived web content for a script fee of $1,300. They continued to refuse to grant jurisdiction over original content for the Internet.

In their new proposal, they made absolutely no move on the download formula (which they propose to pay at the DVD rate), and continue to assert that they can deem any reuse "promotional," and pay no residual (even if they replay the entire film or TV episode and even if they make money).

The AMPTP says it will have additional proposals to make but, as of Thursday evening, they have not been presented to us. We are scheduled to meet with them again on Tuesday.

In the meantime, we felt it was essential to update you accurately on where negotiations stand. On Wednesday we presented a comprehensive economic justification for our proposals. Our entire package would cost this industry $151 million over three years. That's a little over a 3% increase in writer earnings each year, while company revenues are projected to grow at a rate of 10%. We are falling behind.

For Sony, this entire deal would cost $1.68 million per year. For Disney $6.25 million. Paramount and CBS would each pay about $4.66 million, Warner about $11.2 million, Fox $6.04 million, and NBC/Universal $7.44 million. MGM would pay $320,000 and the entire universe of remaining companies would assume the remainder of about $8.3 million per year. As we've stated repeatedly, our proposals are more than reasonable and the companies have no excuse for denying it.

The AMPTP's intractability is dispiriting news but it must also be motivating. Any movement on the part of these multinational conglomerates has been the result of the collective action of our membership, with the support of SAG, other unions, supportive politicians, and the general public. We must fight on, returning to the lines on Monday in force to make it clear that we will not back down, that we will not accept a bad deal, and that we are all in this together.

Patric M. Verrone, President, WGAW
Michael Winship, President, WGAE

Here's the AMPTP official statement from Talks Day #4:

LOS ANGELES, November 29, 2007 - "The AMPTP today unveiled a New Economic Partnership to the WGA, which includes groundbreaking moves in several areas of new media, including streaming, content made for new media and programming delivered over digital broadcast channels.

The entire value of the New Economic Partnership will deliver more than $130 million in additional compensation above and beyond the more than $1.3 billion writers already receive each year. In response, the WGA has asked for time to study the proposals. While we we strongly preferred to continue discussions, we respect and understand the WGA's desire to review the proposals. We look forward to resuming talks on Tuesday, December 4.

We continue to believe that there is common ground to be found between the two sides, and that our proposal for a New Economic Partnership offers the best chance to find it."

Least the AMPTP could do is buy us dinner first...

All solidaritized and nowhere to go

2007-11-12T01:26:00.000-05:00

A few of you have noticed my red t-shirt.

I live just outside of Orlando, Florida, far from the studios and the chanting picketers. Far from the anger and the energy and the unity of the strike.

Since January of this year, I’ve been a full-time screenwriter. I spent a couple weeks on the set of my movie, AMERICAN SUMMER, but aside from that, I spend my days at home, writing. My time has been focused (when my time has been focused) on a spec called THE MIDDLE AGES, that’s made a fan of a producer (who has, likewise, made a fan of me).

If you’ve been following along at home, you know I recently had to file suit against the producers of my movie and that one of them, Seven Arts, then turned around and filed suit against my reps and me to the tune of ten meeellion dollars. (If you’re curious about my thoughts on that, see my post of October 29th.)

The bullshit leading up to my lawsuit occupied a lot of headspace since I got home from set and, as a result, this draft of THE MIDDLE AGES is taking longer than it should’ve to finish. In an example of übershitty timing, the script is now, finally, approaching great. Just in time for my way-cool manager to send it nowhere.

And that fucking sucks, but I’ll live. My hubby and daughters and I will continue to make ends meet until the strike ends and the market is ready for new specs.

Thing is, I’m acutely aware of all the people out of work due to the strike, people whose lives – unlike mine – are very different today than they were just a couple weeks ago: writers losing hard-earned feature deals or staff jobs; teamsters honoring our picket lines; television and film crews whose sets are now dark; showrunners abandoning baby shows before they’ve even had a chance to grow legs. Lots of out-of-work parents looking ahead to lean Hanukkahs and Christmases this year.

I ache knowing that the sacrifices these thousands of people are making will ultimately benefit me. Not just me, of course, but you get me, right?

I spent most of last week jumping around the internet (yeah, that new-fangled thing) soaking up every strike-related word, picture and video I could find. I joined every strike-oriented group I stumbled across and emailed articles and videos to everyone in my address book who isn’t already reading every frigging blog in the scribosphere.

But that’s all nothing. I want to DO something. I’m not DOING anything.

I’ve only just barely qualified for membership to the WGA, but my legal battle is kinda like a microcosm of the WGA / AMPTP war. Every picture or video I see of the picketers feels like they’re marching for me. But I’m doing nothing for them and that kills me.

That being the case, one day last week, here in my little Florida town, I decided to wear my red shirt, even if no one I saw knew what it meant. And I figured, long as I had the red shirt on, I might as well take a picture and use it online where the people hang out who do know why I’m wearing it. Then I added the text about supporting the WGA, ‘cause I know how forgetful people can be sometimes about stuff like that…

So, if you came for the shirt, that’s cool, but don’t forget the message, okay? ‘Cause we “schmucks with Underwoods” work hard and deserve to be paid fairly for that work. And we're done getting jerked around by assholes with God complexes.

Rally at Fox - Strike Day 5

2007-11-11T16:15:00.000-05:00

How much ass does this kick?

The future is, um, y'know...

2007-11-08T13:29:00.000-05:00

Shawn Ryan is my hero

2007-11-07T16:13:00.000-05:00

In case you haven't seen this yet, Shawn Ryan, showrunner of The Shield, The Unit, and The Oaks and a member of the WGA Negotiating Committee sent the following note to fellow showrunners and TV writers earlier this week. It's inspirational as hell -- give it a read:

"As you all know by now, we are on Strike. It's sad that we have arrived here and I don't know each and every one of your opinions, but I wanted to share my personal plans for what I intend to do until we have a fair contract.

I am currently quoted in today's Hollywood Reporter as saying that I will do some producing work, but won't do any editing as I consider that to be writing. While I said something similar to that earlier last week (I've learned you can't trust a word of what these trades report), that was before I went to the Showrunners Meeting yesterday and became very crystalized in what I need to do. Like many of you I have spent the last week contemplating what to do in case of a strike. What are my responsibilities to my writers, my cast, my crew, my network and my contract? How do I balance these various concerns?

At the Showrunners Meeting it became very clear to me that the only thing I can do as a showrunner is to do nothing. I obviously will not write on my shows. But I also will not edit, I will not cast, I will not look at location photos, I will not get on the phone with the network and studio, I will not prep directors, I will not review mixes. These are all acts that are about the writing of the show or protecting the writing of the show, and as such, I will not participate in them. I will also not ask any of my writer/producers to do any of these things for me, so that they get done, but I can save face.

I will not go into the office and I will not do any work at home. I will be on the picket line or I will be working with the Negotiating Committee. I will not have an avid sent to my house, or to a new office so that I can do work on my show and act as if it is all right because I'm not crossing any picket lines.

I truly believe that the best and fastest way to a good contract is to hit these companies early, to hit them hard and to deprive them of ALL the work we do on their behalf.

How do we ask our staff writers to go out on strike as we continue collecting producer checks? How do we ask the Teamsters to respect our picket lines if we won't ourselves or if we're sneaking around to do the work off-site?

Just so you all know what I am prepared to give up....

Tomorrow, we begin to film the Series Finale of The Shield. I think it's the best script our writing staff has ever written. This is the show that made me. This is the show that is my baby. If the strike goes on longer than two weeks, I won't be able to step on set for the final episode of the show. I won't have a writer on set, as I have had on every episode since the fourth episode. I won't be able to edit this final culminating episode. I won't go to the wrap party that Fox TV and FX are paying for. You can't tell me that any episode of television is more important than this one is to me, and I am ready to forego all those things in order to strengthen my union.

Tomorrow, we begin filming a new pilot, The Oaks, that I am Executive Producing. It's an amazing script that David Schulner wrote and I signed up to help him make this show. Until we have a fair deal I cannot do that now and it kills me.

We are currently filming Season 3 of The Unit, a show that does fairly well, but against House and Dancing With The Stars, usually finishes in 3rd place. We have no guarantee that we will back for a 4th season. I just gave a director friend of mine his first TV directing gig. I'd like to see him succeed. He'll have to finish the show on his own now without a writer on set, or my help in the editing room.

Some people have made the argument that if they don't do this producing work or this editing, that someone else will do it, and this act won't hurt the companies. I respectfully disagree. If we ALL stop ALL work tomorrow, the impact of this strike will be felt much more quickly, much more acutely and it most likely will end sooner, putting our writers, our cast and our crews back to work sooner!

I spent nearly 12 hours today in the Negotiation Room with the companies. I watched our side desperately try to make a deal. We gave up our request to increase revenue on DVD's, something that was very painful to give up, but something we felt we had to in order to get a deal made in new media, which is our future.

I watched as the company's representatives treated us horrendously, disrespectfully, and then walked out on us at 9:30 and then lied to the trades, claiming we had broken off negotiations.

I can't in good conscience fight these bastards with one hand, while operating an avid with the other. I am on strike and I am not working for them. PERIOD.

You will use your own instincts and consciences to decide your own actions. But if you would like to follow in my footsteps (and those of many, many others who made this pledge at the showrunner's meating on Saturday), I encourage you to sign the trade ad that the WGA will be putting out on Tuesday by the dozens and dozens of showrunners who will simply not work at all beginning in the morning."

~ ~ ~
Me again. I hate not being there, carrying a sign -- it's a real, physical ache. I'm all the way across the country and don't know what to do, how to help.

To Shawn and everyone else out there walking and sacrificing, supporting the WGA, this "baby writer" thanks you.

Seeing red

2007-11-05T13:11:00.000-05:00

I hate where we are right now. I hate that it came to this.

Wish I were in LA or NYC so I could carry a sign. I'd carry this one:

The Magical Musical Meme

2007-11-03T21:40:00.000-04:00

Thanks for the tag, Shawna, ‘cept you didn’t give me the info! No worries, I went to the source and pulled this:

So here is your assignment for today, dear readers. Find a song that inspires you to write something, whether it gives you an idea for a script or just puts you into a better frame of mind. AND/OR (don't you love choices) peek into the lyrics and find a stanza that sums up the theme of whatever script you're working on. It's quite uncanny how the two circumstances go together.

If possible, post a video of the song to really get people into the mood. (Yep, I'm aware of the irony of using Internet clips during the pissing contest. I like irony as much as bitchiness.)

Then, send the assignment (by e-mail or posting to one of their blog entries) to 5 other writers to do. Inspire the world! Or just some random people from your blogroll, like me. Then pass it on like a gonorrhea outbreak on a Degrassi episode. Woohoo, TV rules!

(Beautiful simile, Rhys!)

Hm… Choices, choices…

Nothing beats my last post for putting me into a better frame of mind, so I’ll go with “Better Together” by Jack Johnson for summing up my current project.

Maybe this sounds strange, but this song reminds me of jumping on a bed, and that’s not a euphemism for some freaky sex thing that I know about and you don’t. I mean really jumping on the bed. Kicking off your shoes and being a big dork. That kind of goofy energy feels like the movie my script, THE MIDDLE AGES, screens in my head.

It’s the energy for me, more than anything, but here’s a chunk of lyrics that are kinda apropos of my story:

Love is the answer
at least for most of the questions in my heart, like
Why are we here? And where do we go?
And how come it's so hard?
It's not always easy and
sometimes life can be deceiving
I'll tell you one thing, it's always better when we're together

And now, I hereby tag:

Tori,
Scotty,
Pat,
MaryAn, and
Annabel

Thanks for reading and best wishes for a strike-free tomorrow…

C'mon, y'all, sing it with me!

2007-10-29T15:29:00.000-04:00

Welcome to Hollywood

2007-10-17T23:54:00.000-04:00

This really does suck.

Still processing the awesome time I had in Austin. More on that when I’m no longer doped up on cold meds…

Trailer trash

2007-09-18T19:26:00.000-04:00

Lookit.

Behind the Irony Curtain

2007-09-13T22:47:00.000-04:00

I first attended the Austin Film Festival and Screenwriters’ Conference in 2003. That year, I made it to the finals of the pitch competition with my 60-second take on my POOL BOY spec, which was renamed AMERICAN SUMMER and shot earlier this year.

I’ve been back to AFF every year since, attended lots of great panels and parties and met some of my best friends in the world, as well as some mentors and some heroes (some of whom overlap).

Next month, I head back to AFF – as a panelist.

They're putting me to work three times. I’ll be on one panel about breaking into the industry, which I’m really excited about; then a roundtable of writers, directors and producers just for high school kids, which should be a lot of fun; and the circle will fully close when I judge a session of the pitch competition.

We’ll call that last part IRONY #1.

Here’s IRONY #2: One of the judges of the pitch competition back in ’03 – a guy who scored me low because he thought my pitch sounded too much like DEUCE BIGELOW – will be a panelist in the same roundtable session.

IRONY #3: So will the guy who wrote DEUCE BIGELOW.

The Universe is a silly place…

See y'all in Austin!

10 Things About Meme

2007-08-02T14:45:00.000-04:00

They got me. Specifically, Suz got me. Before I get to the really fascinating stuff, here’s what the hell’s going on:

Once you’ve been tagged, as I have, you must write a blog with ten weird, random things, little-known facts or habits about yourself. At the end, choose at least 5 people to be tagged, list their names and why you picked them. Don’t forget to leave a comment that says “you’ve been tagged” and tell them to read your latest blog. (This should just about double my readership…)

And here we go…

Ten things you may not know about me:

1. I was diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder when I was 28. (That explained a lot.)

2. Until I was about 23, I was so shy, I couldn’t project my voice loudly enough to order in a restaurant. I’d usually feign an excuse and ask whoever I was with to order for me.

3. During college, I worked briefly as a singing telegram. (Yeah, I’m aware that doesn’t jibe with they “shy” thing. I’m an enigma that way.)

4. The first and only time I've gone white-water rafting was on the Class IV Pacuare River. I got sucked out of the raft halfway down the icy river, upside-down beneath the raft without a breath in my lungs. (Aside from that, it was awesome and I can't wait to do it again.)

5. I have very low blood pressure and pass out rather easily just from seeing or hearing something that makes me squeamish. I nearly blacked out from the “adrenaline shot” scene in PULP FICTION.

6. I believe in reincarnation and am a certified hypnotherapist.

7. I hung out with Johnny Depp for a few days while working as an extra on “21 Jump Street.

7a. I gave Johnny a full-page article from the paper, including an interview with his dad saying how proud he was of Johnny. I almost didn’t bring it, but was glad I did -- Johnny hadn’t seen it yet and read the entire thing immediately.

7b. Between takes in a jungle scene, Johnny said he needed more sweat on his arms. The faux-sweat girl was nowhere in sight but had spritzed me pretty good before she disappeared. So, I wiped a bunch of the slippery stuff from my chest onto Johnny arms. (I used my hand as a go-between. I’m an idiot.)

7c. At the time, Johnny had recently gotten engaged to Winona Ryder, so, despite my schoolgirl crush on him, I respected that. (Years later, perhaps he remembers me as “that girl who didn’t try to fuck him.”)

8. One of the best times of my life was getting thrown from a galloping horse while on vacation in Costa Rica a few years ago. I flew over his head, dropped and rolled in the mud without breaking anything, and popped back up a second after his hoof whooshed past my head. When the guide brought the horse back to me, I got back on, ‘cause that’s what they say you gotta do. (Okay, the best time was actually the “getting back on” part. The dropping and rolling was kinda scary.)

9. I had my second daughter without any drugs. By choice. (It hurt.)

10. My last night in New Orleans for the AMERICAN SUMMER shoot, I went to sushi with Efren, the only cast member who wasn’t working that night. He told me about a National Lampoon script he was considering and asked me to read it with him. He made me read most of the not-his characters and I felt like a total dork, but it was fascinating to watch him find his character as we read. At one point, he grabbed a black eye pencil and drew himself a Don Juanish moustache and small beard (do you call that little chin-triangle a beard?). That movie is RATKO: THE DICTATOR’S SON. It was a funny script and I bet it’s even funnier when I’m not playing all the other parts.

I hereby tag:

Brett, out of spite
Shawna, ‘cause she needs something else to occupy her mind
Grumpy, ‘cause I hardly know him, but he seems cool
Jamie, ‘cause he’s endlessly fascinating and I miss him
Tori, ‘cause she’s one of the funniest people I know and most of you guys don’t know her yet, but you really should and some of y’all will meet her if she makes good on her promise to go to AFF

WHOOMP… CRACK! I’m okay!

2007-07-10T14:57:00.000-04:00

With the kids out of school for summer, the hours whoosh by me at warp speed and by the time I catch my breath, another day’s gone. (My ADD brain, wired, apparently, by Dr. Seuss, requires more structure than this to get stuff done.)

Since my last post:

AMERICAN SUMMER wrapped and I’m, once again, out of the loop (“writer”). I’ve heard a couple rumors about release dates but nothing realistic enough to repeat. More on that when there’s more on that.

As expected, I had a conference call with the producer who read THE MIDDLE AGES. It was the first we’d spoken but she’s read all my stuff and seems to be a fan – in fact, she’s the one who hooked me up with my way-cool manager. I like her a lot – and not just because she had a few very flattering comments on TMA and some kick-ass notes.

I’ve spent lots of time this past month letting those notes marinate, coming up with new beats to replace the ones I’ve excised (“excising” is so much bloodier and, somehow, more satisfying than merely “cutting”). The story’s going to be much more streamlined, now – I’m yanking a fat thread the producer showed me I never really needed. I think I’ve almost got the outline ready to begin the next rewrite… but there’s something missing. I feel that like an itch. I’m chomping at the bit to crank up Final Draft and get going but the sense of a missing link keeps holding me back. So annoying, ‘cause it’s right there, like a floating spot behind my eyelid, dodging all efforts to look directly at it…

I’ve been invited to be a panelist at the Austin Film Festival and Screenwriters’ Conference this year. Even did my first Q&A which was fun.

If you haven’t attended AFF before, here’s some of what you missed in 2005 and in 2006.

Still not enough motivation to part with a month’s worth of beer money? Here’s a current list of some of the other panelists who’ll be there this year:

Scott Alexander (writer 1408 - '07, Ed Wood, The People vs. Larry Flynt, Agent Cody Banks)
Greg Beal (Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences ®, Nicholl Fellowships Program Coordinator)
William Broyles Jr. (Flags of Our Fathers, Jarhead, The Polar Express, Cast Away, Apollo 13)
Curtis Burch (Latitude Productions)
Channing Dungey (ABC Studios fka Touchstone )
Dan French ("Dennis Miller", "The Late Late Show", "The Best Damn Sports Show Period")
Terry George (Reservation Road- '07, Hotel Rwanda, In The Name of the Father, My Left Foot)
James V. Hart (August Rush, The Last Mimzy, The Snow Goose, Sahara, Tuck Everlasting, Contact, Bram Stoker's Dracula, Hook)
Jon Hurwitz ( Harold and Kumar 2, Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle)
Chris Hyams (B-side Entertainment)
Aline Brosh McKenna (The Devil Wears Prada, Laws of Attraction, Three to Tango)
Duncan Montgomery (Montgomery Law/ Fireside Releasing)
Terry Rossio ( Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End, Dead Man's chest, The Curse of the Black Pearl, Déjà vu, Shrek, The Mask of Zorro, Aladdin)
Eric Roth (writer Suspect, Forrest Gump, Ali, Munich, The Good Shepherd, Lucky You - '07, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button - '07)
Thomas Schlamme (Studio 60, The West Wing, Jack and Bobby, Sports Night)
Hayden Schlossberg (Harold and Kumar 2, Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle)
Ed Solomon (writer/ director Levity, writer Tokyo Suckerpunch, Men in Black, co-writer Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure and currently co-writer of Nowhereland starring Eddie Murphy)
Christopher Vogler (Story Consultant, Producer, author The Writer's Journey)
Gary Walker (TEX FX)
Audrey Wells (writer/ director Under the Tuscan Sun)
Guinevere Turner (writer George of the Jungle, The Truth about Cats & Dogs)
Herschel Weingrod (Trading Places, Kindergarten Cop, Twins)
Larry Wilmore ("The Office", "The Bernie Mac Show", "The PJs", "The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air", "In Living Color")
Bill Wittliff (The Perfect Storm, Legends of the Fall, Lonesome Dove, The Black Stallion)

I know a couple of these people and have heard most of the others in various panels over the years. If they’re talking, you want to listen. AFF 2007 is October 11-14. Mark your calendars and get your passes.

Wondering what that WHOOMP… CRACK! was when you first popped in? That was Malfoy, almost six, body-slamming me without warning July 4th.

I thought for sure she'd cracked a rib or ruptured something – my usually-high pain threshold has been on Red since it happened. So, this morning, I finally took myself to the doc for x-rays and he said I’m no more cracked or broken than I ever was. Good and bad, that. Nothing left to do but eat some more Advil and get crackin’ on my rewrite…

I can’t complain but sometimes I still do

2007-05-14T14:26:00.000-04:00

Two weeks hanging out on set with no responsibility was a luxury. To stay through the whole shoot would have been an unnecessary burden on my wonderful, supportive family, so I came home last week.

(It wasn’t easy. I hate goodbyes. They’re wet and sniffle-y. Even the ones that shouldn’t be so hard.)

Being on set was fun and illuminating and boring and breathtaking… sometimes all at once. I met a lot of great people, some of whom I hope will stick as true friends despite all our hectic lives…

Today’s my first day back in my everyday life, where I write in an office in my home. I still feel a little square-peggish.

My manager and his partner had some positive comments on THE MIDDLE AGES and passed it on to a producer before I left. Apparently, she read it and has some notes for me, so we’ll probably hook up on the phone sometime this week.

Gotta re-read it -- I’m not in that head space, yet. Still missing my friends in the cast and crew and the energy of being on set. Hating that scenes are being shot and I’m not there to see them. It feels like grief.

I don’t expect, nor really deserve, much sympathy.

Woe is me… I’ve been rewritten by some brilliant comedy guys who built onto my script and made it better, then brought in the perfect cast and a kickass crew and… oh, the horror!

It’s been incredible all along to watch the actors bring my characters to life. But when I got to the “Ashmore Mansion” location last week, I felt like I’d fallen down a rabbit hole into my own imagination. I squealed and made a lot of excited, incomprehensible sounds.

Then… I saw the pool.

And there they were. The statues from my earliest drafts, just as I imagined. Just as I wrote.

(I never got to meet our production designer, Steve Arnold, but I love him.)

I’m sure “Nouveau David” takes a lot of people’s breath away… but not the way he did mine. ‘Cause I saw him first, years ago. Just like that. Right there, beside Mrs. Ashmore’s pool.

Life’s been good to me so far.

This week on set...

2007-05-05T19:54:00.000-04:00

A little eye candy never hurt anyone, did it? How 'bout more than a little?

Brett Davern as our star, Alex, couldn't be sweeter or more adorable. On top of all that, he's a really talented actor. If I were a teenager, I would SO have his picture torn out of a magazine and taped to my wall. I might anyway.

Efren chatted on my cell with Munchie. In Pedro's voice, he ended the one-sided conversation with, "Well, it was nice listening to you breathe." Apparently, Munchie was a little star-struck, even on the phone.

Matt and Brett did some aquatic engineering.

I'm still having fun. Still learning a LOT. More later...

This sucks.

2007-04-25T11:09:00.000-04:00

Not.

This is crazy this is crazy this is crazy

2007-04-20T10:29:00.000-04:00

(Isn't that cool? Somebody created it and put on top of our crew lists. Hope it's on the cast and crew thongs, too. I'd give credit where it's due, but I don't know where that is.)

As of this writing, I have white, blue, yellow, pink, green and now goldenrod drafts of AMERICAN SUMMER (not necessarily in that order).

I have crew lists and day out of days and memos and shooting schedules and coolest-of-the-cool so far, a call sheet with my name up in the "Writer" section.

A couple days ago, I got a phone call out of the blue from the incredibly cool and sweet Rosanna Norton, our costume designer. As you can see, she's worked on a couple of films in her amazing career and knows how disconnected from production the writers often feel, so she touched base to say hi and talk about the script. Her call meant a lot to me. She's busy as hell and doesn't know me at all, but she asked about the evolution of the script and entertained my questions about wardrobe (apparently, Matt doesn't really dig Hawaiian shirts, so remember that when you're doing your Christmas shopping). When we hung up, I felt like I'd been hugged.

John Sciarappa, the office PA I mentioned last entry, kicks major ass -- he sent me a picture he took of himself and Efren in the production offices yesterday.

And how's this for crazy? Mr. Fucking Sulu is playing the Maître d' in a couple scenes!

About five years ago, I tagged along with my husband to a conference in New Orleans. He spent his days at the convention center and I hung back in our hotel room, reading introductory books on screenwriting and toying with the raw chunks of story that would become my first screenplay.

Then, yesterday, I called the "Transportation" number on the AMERICAN SUMMER crew list and arranged to be picked-up at the airport by a teamster or somebody... this Tuesday, April 24th... in New Orleans... where I'm going to watch my movie get made.

Is this crazy or what?

P-Push it real good

2007-04-05T22:01:00.000-04:00

Lots going on these days!

I finished my rewrite of THE MIDDLE AGES. Got some really constructive notes from my first-round readers, implemented a bunch and sent it to my way-cool manager, who will read it this weekend. Some of my writer-friends think it’s ready to show, so hopefully my manager will agree. I know it’s the best writing I’ve ever done.

Production offices for AMERICAN SUMMER, a/k/a POOL BOY, are established in New Orleans. Warren is already there and the crew list is filling up with a hundred or so people slated to make a movie I wrote.

They’ve pushed principal a week, to April 23rd – just needed a bit more time to get ready. The production coordinator told me this has been a very short prep, so she’s happy to have another week. She seems really cool and sweet and on top of things. I look forward to meeting her. Before she got on the phone, I chatted a while with an office PA, who asked good questions about my original script and bantered with the DP as he walked by and I could feel the camaraderie from here. I felt truly connected to the production for the first time.

‘Course, I’ve been somewhat connected to it, ‘cause I’m now getting emails with stripboards and day out of days – shooting schedule-related things I’ve never seen or heard of before but which excite and fascinate me. A few days ago, an email arrived with “blue” script pages, a “blue” stripboard” and "blue" day out of days. I guess, in order for them to really be blue, you have to print them on blue paper... (It occurs to me, I don't remember anything I once knew about the order of colored script pages. Just that one of them is "Goldenrod." Note to self: learn your colors.)

It’s rather nice to see my name listed as "Writer" on the ever-expanding crew list.

Oh, who am I kidding? It’s fucking awesome.

Are we there yet are we there yet are we there yet are we there yet?

2007-03-18T19:52:00.000-04:00

What’s the deal with AMERICAN SUMMER? Well, since you asked...

We’ve got additional talent attached, as you can see on the updated IMDB page.

Principal is now set to start April 16th. Warren wants me on set as much as I’m able to be there, which is cool. No, I don't know, yet, how much that will be.

As for THE MIDDLE AGES, my rewrite’s going well. Bill seems happy with his bigger role.

If Munchie and Malfoy hadn’t just spent the last week home with me for Spring Break, I’d be done by now. I should have this draft finished in the next few days… then hopefully a punch and a polish and out.

Improv II is over. Sigh… I worked hard and had a lot of fun this go-round. Finally shook my stupid female vanity and enjoyed getting out of my head and being silly. The instructor, Robyn Pedretti, was fantastic. I love her to pieces – and not just because she said I’m strong and funny (though I do love her extra for that). She advanced me to Improv III, but I don’t think I can take it – the first class meets on my hubby’s birthday, so I’d want to miss it, plus I’d probably miss a class or two to be on set for AMERICAN SUMMER. Good reasons for not taking the eight-session class, but I’ll miss playing with my friends there...

We have TALENT!

2007-02-13T18:18:00.000-05:00

Flipzide hires Ramirez, Lillard for 'Summer' pic
By Gregg Goldstein

Feb 13, 2007

NEW YORK -- Matthew Lillard and Efren Ramirez are set to star in Flipzide Studios' "American Summer," a comedy about a pool boy and gardener who take over a Beverly Hills mansion and become neighborhood pimps.

Flipzide CEO Warren Zide is producing, and Seven Arts International is financing the film from director J.B. Rogers ("American Pie 2"). Seven Arts is also financing Adam Gierasch's horror flick "Autopsy"; both projects, with a combined budget of about $16 million, begin principal photography April 9 in New Orleans.

Lillard plays a pool boy who has managed to convince his parents he's attending Harvard. After his apartment complex undergoes termite fumigation, he moves with a pretty escort/neighbor and a young friend into an empty mansion where he works and soon stumbles into the world's oldest profession. Ramirez ("Napoleon Dynamite") plays the next-door gardener called in as "the muscle" of the operation.

"Summer" (formerly titled "Pool Boy") and "Autopsy" are the first of a three-feature, $15 million-$20 million equity financing pact between Flipzide and Seven Arts. "Autopsy," produced with Jessica Horowitz, features Jessica Lowndes, Ashley Schneider, Joe Reegan, Jenette Goldstein and Robert Lasardo.

Flipzide recently produced its first feature, "Parental Guidance Suggested," with indie producers Richard Suckle and Laura Lichstein. Adam Jay Epstein and Andrew Jacobson's teen sketch sex comedy, starring Lillard, Frankie Muniz, Jamie Kennedy, Ryan Pinkston, Michael Cera and Andy Milonakis, was picked up in June by Dimension Films.

Lillard's recent credits include "The Groomsmen," "What Love Is" and "One of Our Own." Ramirez, best known as the electable Pedro in "Napoleon Dynamite," has appeared in "Employee of the Month" and "Crank." The "Summer" script was written by Julie O'Hora and Justin Ware.

Lillard is repped by CAA, Mosaic and Ziffren Brittenham. Ramirez is repped by Kazarian Spencer and Associates and Ken Jacobson.

In other news...

I'm a full-time writer, now, having quit the day job a few weeks ago. (Whoop!)

I finished outlining my rewrite of THE MIDDLE AGES -- it's a big'un, as my friends say up in Brooklyn. I'm replacing a pretty major subplot to tie it into a character who needed more beef (remember Bill?). He demanded a bigger role and threatened to walk. Ass.

I told my way-cool manager I'm aiming to finish before the end of February, 'cause I hope that by saying it out loud, I'll be less apt to turn into The Compulsive Researcher, The Maid, or, worst of the worst, The Narcoleptic.

More when there's more. In the meantime... Shaggy and Pedro are set to star in my movie.

Good Shit

2007-01-22T00:33:00.000-05:00

Some things that have me smiling these days:

My daughters, Munchie (8) and Malfoy (5), each donated ten inches of their hair to Locks of Love, to be made into wigs for children who have lost their hair due to illness. The local BFE Gazette ran a front page article on my girls last month with before and after pictures and the girls were interviewed on their elementary school's morning tv news.

My wonderful hubby surprised me with a trip to NYC to see Wicked and Spamalot for my birthday. It was the best surprise ever and the perfect gift for me!

I Heart NY. The energy is awesome and the people-watching doesn’t get any better. I wouldn’t live there now, but I wish I had spent some years there before I had kids. Can’t wait to go back.

Wicked. It rocked. You gotta see it. Preferably with Julia Murney as Elphaba – she’s brilliant. I’ve already got the soundtrack on my ipod (unfortunately, Julia’s not on it, but it still kicks ass).

Katz’s Deli, where Meg Ryan faked an orgasm. I had what she had (the pastrami – what did you think?) and it was so good, I didn’t have to fake it. (Not that I would – I’m not that nice.)

Spamalot. Everything you love about MONTY PYTHON AND THE HOLY GRAIL with some additional characters and songs. Impossible not to giggle when the entire packed theater is singing and whistling along to Always Look on the Bright Side of Life.

My script, THE MIDDLE AGES. Or at least, the glimpses I’ve been getting of what it could be. Now that the holidays are past and I only have about a week left of the day job before I’m a full-time writer (oh yeah – I gave notice. Yay!), I’m pushing to get it rewritten by the end of February.

Improv. Tonight was the first class of Improv II. SO much fun! I was sure I’d be rusty after a month away from it, but I had a great time and didn’t get stuck in my head – all withOUT a cold-medicinal haze.

And, if it’s true that no news is good news, then location scouting and casting for the movie formerly known as POOL BOY, n/k/a AMERICAN SUMMER are underway and the film will begin shooting in April, as Warren Zide told me before the holidays.

Hope y'all are smiling, too...

p.s. Y'know when you're bored and you get to Googling people you knew back in school? Well, in the event someone from those days actually remembers me and cares enough to Google, my maiden name was Julie Herman. (Go ahead and joke, I've heard 'em all, jackass.)

It feels sooooo good...

2006-12-21T16:05:00.000-05:00

Happy holidays, everybody.

Hugs,
Julie

A putrid toilet is a beautiful thing

2006-11-29T14:57:00.000-05:00

My manager read my first draft of THE MIDDLE AGES over Thanksgiving weekend. I got a short note yesterday saying he wants to talk sometime today and that it’s a nice start, we have more work to do, as I know, and that he still likes the story and my writing. More on that when there’s more on that.

I’m about halfway through my Improv I classes at SAK. As I said before, I was pretty terrified to do it, but I’ll let you in on a little secret:

Deep down, I fully expected to rock at improv. After all, I’m a screenwriter of comedies and comedic dramas. I’m repped by a great manager. Warren Zide is producing a movie I wrote.

I quickly learned, as it turns out, none of that does me much good on the improv stage.

Next, I learned that many of my classmates are fucking brilliant at this stuff.

Soon after which, I learned that a few of said classmates have taken improv classes at the Groundlings, Second City and UCB (Upright Citizens Brigade). A bunch are veteran Theater People and the others are just wonderfully comfortable in their own silly skin.

It didn’t take long to see that I ain’t got nothin’ on these guys. Cool thing is, in improv, nobody cares.

Improv is anti-ego. It’s all about trust – in yourself and in the other players. It’s about making the other players look good. It’s about acceptance and building and committing and getting outside yourself and leaving your inner critic bound and gagged in a dank basement somewhere.

(See some parallels to writing, here?)

After a few weeks of classes, I was getting better but still thinking too much. Still worried about looking stupid. Not committing or trusting enough.

Then, this past Sunday, I was coming down with something but I refused to miss a class. Apparently, being doped-up on cold meds is a helpful tool for quieting inner critics.

I had a great class. I accepted more, I committed more and I trusted more. And then I had an epiphanic moment that I gather lots of improv artists have had.

We were playing a four-person game where Player A improvises a one-person scene, then the instructor calls “freeze” and Player B has to come in and work in with Player A’s stance and turn the scene into something else. Then that scene is frozen and Player C comes in to turn the scene, then they’re frozen for Player D who comes in and turns the scene again. There’s more to it, but that’s the basic set-up.

So, back to my epiphany. Player A, a/k/a Kevin, was “scuba diving.” When our instructor, the cool and funny Charles Frierman, called “freeze,” Kevin was plugging his nose and kind of leaning over, reaching for something.

Waiting in the wings with the other two players, there's me: foggy with cold meds, my mind completely blank (shut up). I had no idea what I was going to do, but I took a leap of faith. I walked out onto that stage, leaned over beside Kevin, plugged my nose like he was doing and THERE IT WAS!

Through my pinched nose, I whined something like, “What kind of husband can’t fix a toilet? This is crap!” And we went on from there 'til Charles froze us.

Was it brilliant and original? Hell, no. But it was there and it got a few laughs and it worked. And most importantly, that feculent toilet knocked down some walls for me that night. And doesn’t that just put a song in your heart?

There she goes again

2006-11-13T00:47:00.000-05:00

Today I FADED OUT on my rough draft of THE MIDDLE AGES.

I’m not whooping it up just yet.

I think it’s a pretty un-rough draft, actually, but I haven't read the thing straight through from page 1, yet, and I’d hate to whoop prematurely.

I’ve never worked that way before – the “not reading it” thing. I had a good outline and treatment and, of course, The Board, and think I adhered to them well and ventured away from them when it made sense and all, but really… god knows what-all’s in there.

I haven’t printed a page of it, yet, either. Ever. It’s tempting to fire up the printer and feel the weight and warmth of my new baby, but first I wanna be sure it has all its fingers and toes. And fully-developed lungs. And a spine. I don’t mind letting it incubate a little longer to give it a better chance at life when it finally comes out.

The draft came in on the short side. I anticipated 100-105 pages and it ended on 97. Not terrible. I’m sure it’ll flesh out in the rewrite. I actually cut five pages a couple days ago – Act 2 was getting long and there was an extraneous scene and a half in there. The brevity problem lies fully in the third act, and I expect to find some loose threads hanging off of the first that need weaving in at the end.

For those interested in such things, I finished my treatment September 15th , got the thumbs-up from my manager September 18th, spent a couple weeks turning my treatment into index cards on a board and filling in the holes, then began really writing the script October 2nd.

So, just under six weeks to a first draft. I could’ve done it faster, but I was away three weekends in October, plus a few extra days in Austin, then there were a bunch of days post-Austin where the clock struck 3:00 p.m. and knocked me out cold until dinnertime.

Not such a long time for a draft, really. However, I struggled to come up with the idea for about four months before I wrote that treatment.

So… tomorrow, I read. Hopefully, I’ll still be smiling.

p.s. Last I heard, POOL BOY went to AFM, the budget is looking bigger and shooting has been bumped to February.

Naked in Austin

2006-10-25T18:44:00.000-04:00

You know those “naked in public” dreams? I used to have them a lot. The embarrassing sort -- not the good ones. The ones some folks interpret as “vulnerability” or “shamefulness” or “people can see right through you, you big, fat, fucking liar.” I’ll come back to this in a bit.

Got back a couple days ago from the Austin Film Festival. Had a great time, as always. This was my fourth year and it was a strange one, as I don’t fit so well at the kids’ table, anymore, but there’s not yet a seat for me with the grown-ups. It’s a funky kind of limbo.

I won’t go into what makes AFF great. I’ve written about that before and Brett and Shawna and Jamie and others have already covered that this year.

Some of the highlights for me:

Got some quality time with a couple of A-list pros I’d met previously at AFF who have been wonderful mentors and who are now dearly-beloved friends.

Met and built fast friendships with a couple of other pros – acclaimed writers and producers – whom I hope to continue to get to know better.

I met my way-cool manager who’s even cooler in person. I’m even more excited to be working with him, now.

Hung out with old and new online writer-buddies whom I love a bunch and miss terribly.

This year is also different because I don’t have the post-Austin blues, as I usually do upon my return to reality. Sure, I was weepy saying goodbye to my friends, but I was also ready to come home.

In previous years, I think the person I most hated leaving was the person I am in Austin. The Writer. But it seems that over the past year - sometime between AFF 2005 and 2006 - she moved in with me.

Into me.

Ever since Writing became more about who I am and not just something I do, my skin just hasn’t fit right, so leaving Austin and zipping back into My Usual Self each year has been something to dread.

But somehow, I’ve integrated the person I get to be in Austin with the person I am at home. Now, I’m a writer there as well as here. Yes, it has something to do with having a manager and the POOL BOY option, but more to do with my allowing myself to BE that.

It’s a confidence thing and confidence is something I’ve never had in excess.

(Yeah, I know. “Writer.”)

Which brings me back to those “naked in public” dreams.

See, a few weeks ago, I had a really strange one. It started off the usual way -- I’m out somewhere, surrounded by strangers in a mall or grocery store or something, then look down and realize I’m naked. But this time... instead of getting embarrassed and searching desperately for a sweater or blanket, I kind of laugh at myself and shrug, “Fuck ‘em,” and continue on my way.

And that's kind of how Austin feels, when I'm feeling it.

And that’s kind of been my life lately.

Naked is good.

That which doesn’t kill me…

2006-10-10T22:31:00.000-04:00

Since we last spoke, I finished my index cards and boards and began my rough draft of THE MIDDLE AGES. I just last night got to the end of the first act and am happy to be tracking right around where I want to be page-wise. In the past, I’ve had a tendency to write anorexic first drafts but it appears I’ve outgrown that.

Last weekend, Hubby and I surprised Munchie and Malfoy with a couple nights at the Nickelodeon Hotel across town.

Oy.

The place makes the vibe at Chuck E. Cheese feel like a nursing home.

Next week, I head to Austin for the Austin Film Festival.

(Couldn't find a pic of the cowhide sofa, dang it...)

Looking forward to hanging with old friends and making new ones. Will finally meet my manager in person, which will be cool.

And then… on October 29th… the real insanity begins.

Because I finally succumbed to the little voice in my head which has been nagging me for years to take an Improv class at SAK Comedy Lab. For eight consecutive Sunday nights, I’ll romp and play and risk mortal embarrassment in the hopes that “Improv” will prove as handy a tool in my writer’s belt as I suspect it will. Nietsche would be proud, I think.

SAK’s a cool little club. Back when I was single, I saw a few shows there while briefly dating my co-writer on The-Indie-TV-Drama-That-Never-Was, a talented actor named MindFuck Guy, who was one of the SAK “Lab Rats” at the time. If that’s not enough endorsement, Wayne Brady cut his teeth at SAK and from what I can tell, he's got really great teeth:

I'll let you know how it goes.

Smooches…

Board with Structure

2006-09-24T14:10:00.000-04:00

Moving on, I finished the treatment, sent it to my manager and got the nod to start Really Writing. He wants to see a first draft by Thanksgiving, but I’d like to be a good chunk of the way there before heading off to The Austin Film Festival and Screenwriters’ Conference next month.

Have I ever told you I have (the laughingly-misnomered) Attention Deficit Disorder? I mean really, not like half the writers I know who think they have it, or the Ritalin kids on the covers of Time and Newsweek. As a result of this faulty wiring, I find that without structure, I get scattered and overwhelmed – in writing, as in life.

So, in order to go from treatment to script, I had to swing by Staples for The Board. For my POOL BOY rewrites, I’d stuck index card sized post-its on the closet doors in my home office, but they didn’t stick well to the semi-gloss and flew all over whenever we had to get into the closet. Problem is, there’s no free wall in here, at least no area that’s at least 5’ wide, which is the ideal size for a board, allowing for up to 10 index cards across. Wouldn’t you know, the 5’ trifold corkboard of my dreams either doesn’t exist or just doesn’t exist at Staples, so I went ahead and picked up two 3’ boards.

Placed side-by-side, there’s plenty of room for 8-10 cards per row and I’ve allotted the space at the top for my title and other at-a-glance stuff like character lists and locations. No method’s right for everybody, but The Board is perfect for me. It’s tactile and visual and gives me just enough structure to stay grounded when I need to, but not so much that I can’t fly if I choose.

I wrote up index cards for all the scenes in my treatment, tacked them to The Board and Voila!

I’ve got an overstuffed first act, although a few of those cards can be combined. The first half of Act 2 is a little light, no biggie. But look -- after the midpoint, all the bad stuff I envisioned that snowballs in the second half of Act 2, it somehow all wound up in a single whopper of a scene, and that won’t do at all. Act 3 is also a little light, but when I finish filling in the gaping holes in Act 2, I know some of that stuff will spill over into 3.

I’m excited, ‘cause I know what elements of the story I need and want to beef up and now I see very clearly where they need to go.

Isn’t that awesome? Isn’t it the next best thing to having a Fairy Goldman tell you how to solve your story problems?

Hit me baby one more time

2006-09-06T23:11:00.000-04:00

Sorry I’ve been scarce, but you don’t want me to write when I have nothing to say, do you? I’ve always made it a point not to post anything here unless I was feeling an emotion I wanted to share or I had some sort of interesting news.

It’s not that nothing’s going on lately, but there haven’t been any big blogworthy moments or epiphanies. However, I hate to see all your hits go unrewarded, so here’s a mishmash of some of the stuff in my head (you've been warned):

POOL BOY is still scheduled to begin shooting in late October in Louisiana. A couple of actors you know have expressed interest and will hopefully sign on. (Yes, I do have a calendar, but this is what I’ve been told.)

I’m having fun with my new dramedy, THE MIDDLE AGES. My manager dug the beat sheet I sent and asked me to flesh it out. He wanted more details and more of a feel for the characters, so I’m now writing my first treatment and it’s going well.

Oh yeah – Bill has found a home in THE MIDDLE AGES as both antagonist and love interest. He’s happy to have something new to sink his teeth into (he’s so method).

In less-happy news... sigh... Steve Irwin. I wasn't a rabid fan, but I enjoyed his show and I’ve been haunted by his death. It finally hit me yesterday –- what makes his death particularly hard for me to accept is that Steve always seemed more alive than other people.

I think there’s something in that idea to inform written characters, too, something to do with degrees of change... But I’m still working it out for myself, so I’ll let you find your own meaning in that, if you choose. And if you do, I’d love to hear about it, ‘cause I can talk about this stuff all day long.

It's Log! It’s Log! It's better than bad, it's good!*

2006-08-11T20:43:00.000-04:00

It began with about a dozen loglines I worked up and emailed to my manager in search of my next spec idea. For various reasons, none were The One.

After another week of mental gymnastics (oh, okay, origami), I sent him a log and brief synopsis of another idea. He wasn’t jazzed. Not enough to encourage me to write it.

(Note: I’m fully aware that I am the employer in this relationship. I wouldn’t write an idea I’m not excited about just ‘cause he is, however, I don’t see the point of writing something my manager isn’t excited to sell.)

I pitched him a couple of unjelled ideas over the phone, both of which he felt had potential, so I spent a week playing with them to see if they might wanna grow up to become movies. One of them, we later agreed, was more compelling than the other.

A couple days ago, I sent him loglines of eight different takes on that one premise. Happily, there was one log and a couple fragments of others he liked, so now I’ll finesse ‘em all into a beat outline and see if it resembles a movie.

I’m not gonna share any details of the story here, except that I may have found “Bill” a home.

I’m itching to start writing again. Percolating is necessary, of course, and sometimes fun, but I miss tangible work product I can read and touch and tear into frustration confetti.

In POOL BOY news, we must be getting closer to production, because I was just sent a final contract to sign and return to my attorney (oh yeah – my kickass manager got me a likewise kickass attorney). I’m told we have our first actor attachment – a recognizable character actor for whom I’d written a cameo role. (I’ll disclose his name once I’m certain he’s really in.) I’m not so much in the production loop, but I hope to have news as to locations and casting soon.

But for now, I’m off to work on my outline…

*Title was borrowed from THE REN & STIMPY SHOW:

"The Log Song"

What rolls down stairs
alone or in pairs,
and over your neighbor's dog?
What's great for a snack,
And fits on your back?
It's log, log, log!

It's log, it's log!
It's big, it's heavy, it's wood.
It's log, it's log, it's better than bad, it's good.

Everyone wants a log
You're gonna love it, log
Come on and get your log
Everyone needs a log
log log log

*whistle*
LOG FROM BLAMMO!

(You're singing it now, aren't you?)

You might say I'm schizo, but so am I

2006-07-09T00:26:00.000-04:00

I called a meeting tonight with the character I've been toying with.

I'm fascinated by other writers' processes and decided you probably are, too, so I'm sharing the transcript. Here goes:

Okay, Bill, if that’s even your real name – tell me about yourself. Let’s start with the ego. What gives?

“What gives?”

I’ll rephrase – why are you such an arrogant bastard?

That’s better. I am an arrogant bastard because other people are idiots.

Why do you say that?

Because just when I think my expectations can’t get any lower, I'm disappointed again. After 30 years of this, I figure I’m just the odd man out.

So, everybody but you is an idiot?

Mm… yeah. Everybody I know, yeah.

Gotcha.

I know we just started, but I gotta go take a leak. You can wait if ya’ want.

Fine.

Bill smirks, looks at me like I’m an idiot, and heads for the men’s room.

I wait… Bill takes a longish time out of disrespect for me. When he returns, he makes no attempt to hide his glance at my chest.

You really are an asshole, aren’t you?

You’re welcome to think so.

I think it’s a put-on.

Bill shrugs.

You gonna drink that?

No, I don’t really like Jack and Coke. Thanks, though.

Bill takes the drink and drains half of it.

It's two for one. I didn't buy it for you.

So, back to work. Tell me, what are you passionate about?

I knew it. You want to have sex with me.

Not hardly. Are you gonna answer the question?

There was a question?

If you want to be in this screenplay, I have to get to know you. What are you passionate about?

The hell kind of question is that?

What do you like to do? What are you into, besides being a schmuck?

Oh yeah. You so want me. It’s sad, almost…

I deadpan.

Are those real?

Know what? Forget it. No audience will ever care about you and I’m shopping for a protagonist, here. Sorry to waste both our time. I wonder if it’s too late to catch up with the reclusive megamillionaire…

Oh, him, huh? I hear he’s a real dick.

Can’t be any worse than you, Bill.

Pretty similar, actually… You might even say… identical.

What? What are you saying? You guys are twins?

No, brainiac. I’m him. He’s me. We’re the same guy.

Oh. You said “identical.” Not the “very same.” “Identical” implies two distinct yet perfectly similar—

Christ, and you wonder why I’m arrogant…

Hang on. You’re the megamillionaire? I had no idea. Do you still live in the penthouse at the Ritz?

Weekdays, yeah. Shorter commute.

And weekends?

I stay down by the yacht club.

Ah, so boating is your passion?

I like boating.

Why?

I’m good at it.

What kind of boat? Powerboat? Sailboat?

You obviously know a lot about the subject.

Sarcasm. What a surprise.

I have different kinds of boats for different kinds of boating. I’ve got a 36’ Cigarette – goes 200 mph. A 62’ sailboat that I live on most weekends. Some others.

Which is your favorite?

Grandma, no question. That’s her name. She’s a 26’ Hackercraft Dolphin – over 80 years old and gorgeous as anything.

Hackercraft? I’ve never heard of—

Grandma’s one of only about 15 Dolphin hulls left in the world.

Bill pulls out a wallet photo...

She’s beautiful.

Yeah. I know.

Hey, Bill, this has been cool, but it’s getting late. I think we’ve made some good progress tonight. Let’s get together again tomorrow, okay?

Sure, but I’m not gonna bang you.

I think I’ll live.

Newsflash: Writing is hard

2006-07-05T15:55:00.001-04:00

Whoever said ideas are a dime a dozen was either brilliant or clueless.

Or maybe there’s something wrong with me – it’s possible (no, really) – but I don’t think I’m alone here.

Ideas that truly can and should be movies are hard to come by. I’ve got scads of story chunks floating around in my head (I'm seeing a specialist), but none of those are enough to sustain a feature-length film. Not a good one, anyway.

(Yeah, I know, but still.)

I saw a quote recently over on Wordplay, credit to Isak Dinesen:

You should never get married or start to write a *novel unless you can't believe your luck.

*You’ll need to use your superior power of imagination to pretend she said “screenplay.”

You ever read loglines on any of the screenwriter websites? Some are interesting, but most… well, talk about impulsive drunken Vegas weddings.

Okay, back to me again…

A few of the characters presently doing the backstroke through my mind sometimes tug my mental sleeve and tell me about themselves, but so far, none of their stories makes me feel like I’ve won the intracranial lotto.

These diaphanous people do intrigue me enough to spend some time with them – just a first date, nothing serious, yet – to get to know them, hear about their adventures and find out if maybe there’s a movie to be mined.

One guy in particular, I call him Bill, is fascinating to me but I’m still looking for his world. I know most of his story, just not where it takes place or what it looks like. I think it has something to do with launching Something and that he and a handful of others have been working toward The Big Day for some time. I think everybody’s counting on him. It’s strange to have this dynamic so clearly in mind, yet still so unfocused as well. (Ref. earlier comment wherein I suggested there may be something wrong with me.) If y’all have any bright ideas about Bill’s world, I’m all eyes.

Oh – and if you only popped in to see what’s up with POOL BOY, I’m sorry you had to read all that to get to this: it’s still a go, still set to begin shooting in October. I’ll keep you posted whenever there’s new news.

Jolly Green Thumb

2006-06-12T20:17:00.000-04:00

Ahh... That's better.

The nice folks at IMDB got rid of that pesky alter-ego.

Speaking of nice folks, thanks for all the kind words and wishes, y'all. It makes me smile when you post, especially those of you I haven't met yet in my other online haunts.

Twixter: Will do. ;)

Grumpy: Hm... If I'm real now, does that mean I have to live in Reality? I'm not sure I'm prepared to do that...

Blogwriter: I'm flattered you attempted to post over on IMDB, so I popped over there to see what's what. It appears someone (you?) posted the one and only comment on the Pool Boy 2007 Message Board. Dunno that it means I've "made it into the big leagues," but it sure was cool to see.

Keeping my focus forward, I've been watering some new character and story seeds and hope they'll bloom into something worth nurturing...

Let’s see… where was I?

2006-06-06T15:41:00.000-04:00

I finished the third draft about May 18th and a few days later received five pages of notes from a 4 ½ hour meeting between Warren and JB Rogers, the director who has now signed on. JB directed AMERICAN PIE 2 and some other movies in the genre, so he’s a great choice for POOL BOY.

Did you catch that? A producer and a director met to discuss a script that I wrote in actual pre-production terms. Try to imagine for a moment how much I hated not attending that meeting…

No, it was worse.

To be fair, no one knew to meeting would be so in-depth – JB hadn’t even officially signed on at that point. Warren only expected an hour sit-down and a few ideas. If I’d known what it would turn out to be, I’d have flown out for it.

Anyway, about a week after the notes from that meeting came my way, I turned in a fourth draft (yeah, that's four drafts in two months if you're keeping score) and wrote a synopsis for Warren to send out to agencies.

And it appears, for now, anyway, my work on POOL BOY is done. I'm catching back up with my life and my manager is waiting for me to come up with some new spec ideas to develop and market and get me some meetings out there.

In related news, I thought this was kinda cool…

('Though this Julie O'Hara chick is beginning to annoy me...)

If it's in Variety.com, it must be true...

2006-05-17T17:18:00.000-04:00

Posted: Wed., May 17, 2006, 8:20am PT

Seven Arts pacts with Zide
'Pool Boy,' 'Autopsy' first on sked
By NICOLE LAPORTE

Seven Arts Intl. has pacted a three-picture deal with "American Pie" producer Warren Zide. The films will be fully financed through a $15 to $20 million all-equity fund that has been secured for the alliance. First pic to come out of the partnership is "Pool Boy," followed by "Autopsy."

First up is "Pool Boy," written by Julie O'Hora. Pic follows the antics of a recent high-school grad who inadvertently becomes a pimp to a mansion full of beautiful girls. Shooting will begin in the fall.

Horror pic "Autopsy," which also shoots this fall, was written by Adam Redmond Gierasch, who will also direct, Jace Gremly Anderson and E.L. Katz. Jessica Horowitz will produce with Zide.

Variety Article

*edited to spell my frigging name correctly, thankyouverymuch.

The Latest

2006-05-12T13:50:00.000-04:00

The word “locked” has been bandied about with regard to my script. I do not think it means what they think it means. Or maybe it just doesn’t mean what *I* think it means.

Regardless, what it really means is “time to rewrite.”

Last week was all about the second draft. I completed 30-page chunks at a time and sent them to my producer. Friday, I started to panic – he wanted the completed draft by Sunday and Sunday was coming too fast. I was spending an inordinate number of hours staring at the screen with nothing happening. Just wasn’t feeling it. (Interesting dichotomy: I love deadlines, yet hate to be rushed.)

Woke up Saturday and got my head back in the game – sat down to work at 11:30 that morning and stayed there until 3:30 SUNDAY MORNING. Took all meals at my desk and literally did not spend more than 60 minutes combined outside my office during that 16-hour stretch. My husband and kids were terrific – gave me lots of space all day to work. (Or maybe it was because I didn’t even take the time to change out of my jammies or brush my hair all day...) Anyway, I got a lot done and felt nice and in-the-homestretchy when I started on the third act Sunday morning.

There’s something really motivating in feeling firmly on the right track, so the work went rather smoothly on Sunday and I finished the second draft Monday night.

Tuesday morning, I received an overnighted package from my producer including a printed copy of the script covered in very bad penmanship. We went over the most indecipherable hieroglyphics on the phone and I set to work.

I am now halfway through the third draft with another Sunday deadline bearing down. This being more of a buffing and polishing draft with the heavy grinding and sanding already done, I’m not dreading this Sunday.

I mentioned in my last entry that the script will be going to the Cannes market for distribution. Well, my producer sent me a draft of a press release his publicist wrote and the subhead reads: Teen Comedy Pool Boy Marks First of Three Pictures to Be Produced Under New Partnership. It includes the phrase, “The film, which was written by Julie O’Hora and is set to begin shooting in Fall 2006...”

Which was nice to see.

(You may have noticed they called it POOL BOY – looks like we’re back to the original title, which I like best, anyway.)

It’ll be interesting to see what happens when I finish this pass on the draft. We’ll be out to directors soon, apparently. Still talking to the guy I referred to in the previous post, but that’s not solid yet, from what I gather.

Still not holding my breath, but conditions do seem favorable for this movie to actually happen...

It's Good to be the King

2006-04-30T01:52:00.000-04:00

Just finished the first draft of what turned out to be a complete reimagining and rewrite of POOL BOY -- I mean, UP & COMING -- that is, IT'S GOOD TO BE THE KING.

I feel great. It needs work, I know. But there are some great moments in there. Some really funny stuff. Some bits I never would've thought I could or would come up with, but there they are.

And get this: About four days ago, I was sort of stuck on page 52. And tonight, I finished at the very bottom of page 99. Seriously -- I didn't type END because it would've been the only word on page 100.

I worked my ass off this week -- Wednesday I wrote 10 pages, then 10 pages again Thursday, then only 4 last night and... 17 TODAY.

Yes, you read right. Not a typo. I wrote 17 pages today. And I'm not even fried. And they don't suck. There is a Zone and I was in it. Hope I find it again one day.

Actually, I have my husband to thank for my recent productivity -- he surprised me a week ago with a laptop as an early anniversary gift (XOXO!).

Since he gave it to me, I've only written on it and not on the PC at all. Even took it to a coffee shop today and knocked out some pages there. (Way fun to sit in a coffee shop in my little nowhere town, 3,000 miles from Hollywood, writing not a script but a movie and to get a call on my cell from my producer, a guy whose previous movies most of the people around me in the coffee shop have surely seen...)

Oh-- also, the deadline for a locked first draft has been extended from May 1st to May 7th (good thing, too). The producer just sent me notes on the first 50 pages and they're very doable. I expect to have the first 50 lock-ready in a couple days.

Also, the reason they're pushing for a locked script by a certain date is apparently the investors are planning to take it to the Cannes Festival to sell distribution. (I know -- crazy, huh? I had no idea they did that without a finished film. Note to self: learn more about the business side of the business.)

Let's see, what else...? Producer has been talking to a director he's worked with before, a guy who's great with comedy and has done a bunch of films in this genre. Hope he comes on board.

And I guess that's that, for now...

Up & Coming

2006-04-10T13:29:00.000-04:00

(Pant! Pant!)

Quickie update:

I’ve now spent many hours on the phone with the producer who optioned POOL BOY, going over the story and how to best execute the premise. We agreed it will need a fairly extensive rewrite to make it as funny as it has the potential to be and for maximum appeal to the 18-25 male demographic (I’ve been channeling my inner Cro-Magnon teenage boy – he’s fun) and the title has been changed to UP & COMING, to better reflect the new story (if you guessed “Not Rated G,” you win the Smarty-Pants Award).

I jammed and got the new first act written last week. Everybody’s pretty happy with it, with some minor notes to be incorporated later.

Good news came over the weekend: Producer met with some investors and our budget has nearly doubled. Muy bueno since a percentage of said budget pays out to yours truly if this thing really happens.

So, now I’m jumping through my ass to get a lock-ready draft finished by May 1st. The current plan is to be in pre-production in 90 days and begin shooting in September.

(Yes, that was a fun sentence to type.)

I’m a “believe it when I see it” person, but now I’m in the unique position of being the only definite in the equation: this movie will definitely NOT happen if I don’t get this script written. It might not happen if I do, but it definitely won’t happen if I don’t.

Interesting square on the board on which to find myself...

You’re not privy to the new shit...

2006-04-01T17:00:00.000-05:00

It's crazy, but new shit has come to light.

A few days ago -- about a week after signing with my manager -- I optioned POOL BOY to one of those producers whose movies you’ve seen more than once.

The emails, IMs and phone calls started immediately -- and frequently -- so I’m pretty used to them, already.

He says he wants to start shooting it in the fall and has already given his investors a heads-up. I wasn’t even going to mention this here, in case it all falls apart, but I told people the minute I knew I was pregnant the first time and was happy for the support when I miscarried a few weeks later… so there you go.

I’m excited about the possibility of this actually happening, but really haven’t thought about the “movie part” much – just focusing on the rewrite and squeezing all the comedic, real-life moments out of these characters that I can.

I’m also working on a treatment for an in-house project with my manager and another producer of note and don’t want to lose any momentum on that one – I’m really falling in love with the story and characters and look forward to putting them on the page.

So, I’m busy as hell juggling two projects, a part-time paralegal gig, mommying and wife-ing, but I’ve never been happier.

Thanks, everybody, for the congrats and well-wishes, like a bunch of virtual hugs. Hugs back at y’all…

It’s… Repped?

2006-03-21T22:09:00.000-05:00

Y’know that manager I’ve been talking to? Well, he called yesterday and began, “So, I read POOL BOY over the weekend. I want you to know, I still think you’re a really great writer.”

Uh-oh. This can’t end well…

He pointed out – accurately – that my story lacks conflict and we talked about that. He felt my structure was good (thanks Blake!) and he still digs my voice.

Then he surprised me by saying that after reading it, he’s even more excited to work with me.

Um… what?

He asked my permission to send both POOL BOY and EROTIC MUSINGS OF AN AMERICAN HOUSEWIFE out and then pitched me an idea they came up with in-house that they thought would work great with my voice. I sparked to the idea, we riffed, and suddenly I’m developing a project with a manager and a WGA signatory producer attached.

How did this happen? I’m not in L.A. I’m not 20. I didn’t go to film school.

But I wrote. And I got discouraged and I bitched and wished I could quit. And I killed my darlings and learned to love it. I wrote and rewrote and reinvented and reimagined and reincarnated until I could distinguish my good work from my bad. And finally, when even in deepest self-deprecation I had to admit the writing was pretty good, I knew it was time to put my work and myself out there.

It'll be fun to see what happens next. Isn’t Life just the coolest ride?

It's Alive!

2006-03-17T23:38:00.000-05:00

I haven’t abandoned this blog, really.

Just been busy outlining new projects and marketing
EROTIC MUSINGS OF AN AMERICAN HOUSEWIFE.

I’ve done pretty well getting it read, despite being presently-unrepped.

A couple producers of films you’ve seen more than once have requested reads. A few agents and managers who represent writers, directors and actors you’ve heard of have requested reads. Somehow, I’ve been able to send ‘em and forget about ‘em, which has been happy news for my sanity.

Had a great conversation with a manager last week. Good news was he liked my voice and wanted to see my POOL BOY script as soon as I mentioned it. Bad news was I’d just looked at POOL BOY for the first time in about a year and-- I dunno, it’s like… weeds grew all over it while I was gone or something.

I told the manager I’d need about two weeks to rewrite (knowing that would be cutting it close). He said, How ‘bout next Friday? I said, Done.

Which gave me nine days.

Nothing like a non-self-imposed deadline to light a fire under your ass. Well, mine, anyway. I haven’t been that focused on anything since I had to push baby Malfoy out of my body without benefit of drugs.

A few days later, I decided to bust my goal and told the manager I’d have the script ready to send to him by Thursday (even though it was looking like the Bride of Frankenstein in 12 pt Courier, at that point).

And… I did it.

Sent it over last night and got a nice little shot of endorphins as I clicked “Send.”

Now, onto the next…

Who ARE you people?!

2006-02-13T12:27:00.001-05:00

I mean, it’s cool to see familiar IP addresses in my Site Meter log each day, but I’m baffled. Not only do I know nobody in some of these geographic areas, there are a few I’d never even heard of (yeah, okay, so geography was never my best subject).

Anyway, I’m happy you stopped by at all and honored you’ve made a habit of it. I doubt you’re picking up pearls of wisdom on screenwriting -- I didn’t think I’d dropped any...

Whatever the reason, I’m glad you’re here. I’d hate to think I was just typing to hear the clacking of keys. And if you want to pop in and introduce yourself, I’d love to shake your virtual hand.

I am William Hung.

2006-02-09T19:33:00.000-05:00

I’ve got young kids and no TiVo, so I don’t watch much television. There are some shows I watch if the kids go to bed on time -- a couple sitcoms, a couple dramas… andacouplerealityshows.

Heresy, I know, for a writer to watch reality television. I expect I’ll be publicly stoned for admitting it -- and trust me, I’ve self-flagellated.

What’s the attraction, then?

The first reality show that ever hooked me was Joe Millionaire. I’m embarrassed to disclose, I didn’t miss a minute of Evan Marriott’s escapades.

Then there’s American Idol. I could probably watch an entire season of auditions in a single sitting. (And it’s not because I enjoy the music. That much I know.)

And to, um… round out my list, The Biggest Loser.

Jeezus, Grandpa! What am I watching these things for?!

Well, despite all efforts to the contrary, I’ve got bubblegum tendencies. Deep down, there’s a kindergartener in here dreaming of happily ever after.

And artists – whether they paint with color, music or words – tend to wrestle with self-doubt. Just when I think I’ve got a handle on this screenwriting thing, some screechy-voiced bimbo mouths off to Simon Cowell about how sorry he’ll be when she wins a Grammy.

And, as a human living on this planet for a while, there are aspects of myself I’ve learned to hate.

See, the reality shows I’m attracted to are the ones starring me. It’s all about Universal Theme, really.

Maybe the success of reality T.V. isn’t voyeuristic… but solipsistic.

Tar Pits

2006-01-27T13:10:00.000-05:00

Pre-outlining. I’ve been a little bit stuck, you maybe noticed if you’ve read much here lately.

I posed a question over at Artful Writer, wondering what particular story chunks other writers need in hand or mind before they’re ready to outline (or write, as in the case of those brave and/or brilliant souls who can get there without foreplay).

Problem was, I had plenty of chunks, but it still wasn’t happening. (Guess what– outlines don’t write themselves. There were a few mornings I woke up, checked the computer and was surprised to find this out.)

A friend suggested a stream of consciousness exercise to help determine which of my story ideas would spark me most. That helped. I ended up combining two of them, which fleshed out the whole deal in my mind a lot more.

A lot more.

‘Cause suddenly I can feel the world of my story hovering just outside the realm of the world I live in. It’s 3-D and I can sense the sounds and colors and life over there. It exists and I made it.

Too ethereal for you? It’s kind of like sensing the neighbors in the apartment next to yours. You haven’t been inside, but you have a vague idea of what their pad looks like and who they are.

So, it looks like I’ve pulled myself up onto the bank of the tar pit, but I’m not out of danger, yet. There’s a T-Rex breathing hot on the back of my neck, goes by the name of “Laziness.”

And if I don’t watch out, he’s gonna bite me on the ass.

La la la... The Theme Meme

2006-01-18T16:49:00.000-05:00

Thanks to Michael Starrbury over in Apartment Two, we now have the "Top Ten Television Themes" meme to procrastinate with. So, without further ado and in no particular order, ten T.V. themes that make me smile, tap my feet or feel anticipation of some sort are:

The Partridge Family
All in the Family
Makin' It
Laverne & Shirley
M*A*S*H*
Cheers
Twin Peaks
Ally McBeal
Malcolm in the Middle
Two and a Half Men

(Not a comprehensive or well-thought-out list. List subject to change at any time.)

Tagging Brett, Shawna and -- since he's at least partially responsible for the happy that hits me when I hear the Cheers theme -- Ken. Have at it!

Ahem! Meme meme!

2006-01-13T17:13:00.000-05:00

MaryAn tagged me with the scribosphere meme, so here goes:

ONE (1) earliest film-related memory:

I guess I was 4, or thereabout. I remember walking past lobby cards clutching what was, to me, a huge bag of popcorn… entering the theater and looking up at that enormous screen in anticipation of a Disney movie (which shall remain nameless, so that I might remain ageless…)

TWO (2) favorite lines from movies:
(Only two?! Are you trying to kill me?)

Saturday, Donny, is Shabbos, the Jewish day of rest. That means that I don't work, I don't get in a car, I don't ride in a car, I don't pick up the phone, I don't turn on the oven, and I sure as shit don't fucking roll! Shomer shabbos!

~ ~ ~

You know it's funny. We started out like this, Helen and I. We had blank walls, we hung things, we picked out tiles together. Then you know what happens? Six years later you find yourself singing "Surrey with a fringe on top" in front of Ira!

THREE (3) jobs you'd do if you could not work in the "biz":

Novelist
Interior Designer
Public Relations Manager

FOUR (4) jobs you actually have held outside the industry:

Headhunter
Paralegal
Camp counselor
Singing telegram

THREE (3) book authors I like:

Richard Bach
Nick Hornby
Diana Gabaldon

TWO (2) movies you'd like to remake or properties you'd like to adapt:

CHITTY-CHITTY BANG-BANG and XANADU.

Stop laughing. They were magical when I was a kid, but the magic was disappointingly gone when I saw them as an adult. I’d love to rework the stories so they’d be magical to me again.

ONE (1) screenwriter you think is underrated:

Cameron Crowe

THREE (3) people I'm tagging to answer this meme next:

Brett

Tina

Ryan

Addendum: Since Michael Starrbury over in Apartment Two was kind enough to tag me with his "Top Ten Television Themes" meme, I'm tagging him with this one, though rigormortis has long since set in and the maggots have had their way with it.

When I was a kid, Grandma drove a cranberry-colored Mercedes sedan.

2006-01-09T21:18:00.000-05:00

Doubt it was as cool in reality as in my recollection, but I sure loved that car.

Grandma was an elementary school science teacher back then and used to take me to the natural museum for little field trips when I was the only grandchild old enough to go. (Thanks to her, I didn’t flip out last year when some tiny black snakes found their way into the house while my husband was out of town.)

Sometimes I’d swing by Grandma and Grandpa’s condo on a lunch break from my first post-college job. During one of those lunches, back when PRETTY WOMAN was in theaters, Grandma told me, “I saw that Julia Roberts on television the other day. She’s really not that pretty. She reminds me of you, dolling.”

Snort. “Thanks, Grandma.”

“Oh, you know what I mean.” Chuckle. Dismissive wave.

Grandma’s married name is Ethel Herman, yet despite the similarity of name to one of this country’s first divas, Grandma’s never been known for her lovely singing voice.

Except, perhaps, to Grandpa.

One big family dinner, Grandpa was mid-sentence when Grandma sang a verse, apropos of nothing. The whole table went quiet. Grandpa forgot what he was about to say. Then he smiled and said, almost to himself, “Oh, she sent me.”

Grandpa did it right. About eight years ago. He was 86 and in generally good health. Fell asleep on the sofa and just never woke up.

Grandma is probably doing it tonight. That’s what the hospice folks say. I remember how frustrated she’d get back when she was sharp enough to feel the Dementia coming on. The last few times we visited, she barely opened her eyes long enough to enjoy her great-grandchildren. If Grandma were a dog, she’d have been permitted a humane and dignified exit years ago. However, she’s a demented old lady in a nursing home who, apparently, has decided to take matters into her own frail hands and has stubbornly refused to eat since Saturday.

You go, Grandma.

Champagne Wishes and Caviar Dreams

2006-01-03T01:50:00.000-05:00

I wore pink on New Year’s Eve. (It’s the new black. Or-- crap, maybe that was that last year…)

Our evening was spent at one of those affairs you start talking about weeks in advance, wondering about the food and entertainment long before the big night arrives.

Munchie, age 7, remembers last year’s gala event – we found a Stooges marathon on cable. But Malfoy, now 4, conked out early on the last night of 2004. This year, however, she was determined to stay up and watch the sparkly ball fall down.

The popcorn was popped to perfection and my husband saw to it that the juice boxes were never empty. Munchie and Malfoy provided running commentary (“Ooh! Mariah Carey is beautiful!”)

Party-hopping is never a good idea. That’s how we found ourselves subjected to the dulcet tones of the Philbins’ Winter Wonderland…

The minutes ticked by like hours and as midnight finally approached, we almost lost Malfoy. I tickled her awake just as the first ripple of anticipation rolled through Times Square.

With my pink pajamas wrinkling beneath squirmy little-girl tushies, we all counted backward and watched that sparkly ball fall down.

Rather than explode in a cacophony of fireworks, Suburbia stuttered and sputtered, then quickly simmered down, so Sully, the 150 lb. lap-dog kept his barking-at-nothing to a minimum. And my husband -- resplendent in black sleepy-shorts and a T-shirt -- kept his yelling-at-the-frigging-dog to a minimum as well.

So, this one wasn’t a champagne and caviar New Year’s Eve. No sparkling gown, no Spago, no limo. I’ve had nights like that before and I expect I will again.

But my wishes and dreams from those days led me to this place. And Wolfgang Puck can’t compete with sleepy little girls. And a limo is no match for a big, warm human pillow…

…which is where I’m headed right… about… now.

(Happy New Year!)

gOInG cRaZY

2005-12-17T10:56:00.000-05:00

"Writers write."

Okay, that's too vague for me, 'cause I've been percolating my next script for a couple of months now and I don't have much in the way of written words to show for it. I've got some compelling story elements, but they're not coming together for me, yet.

It's like, I've got this really cool Lego piece... and a Lincoln Log and a stick from a Tinker Toy set...

It's making me nuts.

I've got a few scripts under my belt. I know this is part of the process, etc. But I get lost in my head writing a grocery list, for Chrissake.

Ooh, speaking of lists, here's what I've got so far:

1. A couple of interesting characters
2. An intriguing external story (Task)
3. A Strange Attractor
4. A cool world
5. A universal theme

Not a bad list, I know. I read somewhere -- some quote? I dunno -- that writers see connections that others don't. Or something like that. However it was originally phrased, it resonates with me. Someone who wishes to be a writer might create connections between the Lego and the Lincoln Log -- write in some Crazy Glue and stick 'em together. But a real writer will ultimately find the hidden groove that clicks them into place in an unexpected and yet inevitable way.

And that's hard.

So, I'm going a little cRaZY.

But that's writing.

So proud of our little artiste

2005-11-29T19:51:00.000-05:00

Daughter #2 (identified in previous blog entries as "Malfoy"), age 4, is an artist. She'll tell you so, herself. Unlike most kids, who say, "I'm gonna be an artist when I grow up," she says, "I'm an artist." All matter-of-fact-like.

Unlike most artists, she's quite confident in social situations.

Over the Thanksgiving weekend, for instance, we visited the largish home of some richish family friends who were having a big, fancy party. Mrs. Family Friend and Malfoy have an unusually close friendship, despite a 46-year age difference and only a few meetings. In fact, Mrs. FF left her other big, fancy party guests to fend for themselves while she and Malfoy went in the other room to refresh their lipstick and spritz perfume.

As we exited the FF's manse that evening, I told Malfoy how proud I was because she was such a good girl at the FF's party. And all matter-of-fact-like, she said, "And I didn't even toot."

(So proud...)

Luckily, Mrs. FF didn't offer our little artiste any crayons and paper, else she and her other big, fancy party guests might've been treated to something like this recent Malfoy original:

So proud...

Sitting on top of the washer

2005-11-18T20:19:00.000-05:00

Okay, so I played Alan's version of the Google Vanity Game... but I screwed it up.

See, he Googled "Alan wants a" which returned a bunch of things.

I Googled "Julie wants" which returned a different sort of list (juxtaposition makes me giggle sometimes):

Julie wants Marissa to go to an institution for troubled women in San Diego.

Julie wants Jean killed like an animal.

Julie wants to add 47 + 9.

Julie wants out.

Julie wants to cut holes in her cabinet doors, paint them a rich berry color and install glass panels.

Julie wants to know who will escort her.

Julie wants to work on her Boston accent and be happy in whateva careeah she chooses, be it on-air or producing.

Julie wants you to be careful where you dig.

Julie wants Spike to go undercover on a date for an exclusive interview.

Julie wants us to know that she's a "real person," not some fancy-pants person like all those other Real Worlders.

Julie wants to know how she got off.

Julie wants you to see the sofa.

Julie wants to climb it.

Julie wants to be a trapeze artist.

Julie wants you to tap your toes -- and your heels!

Julie wants to know what is so dysfunctional about the current structure.

Julie wants to spend a day with a bear cub.

Julie wants something more.

Julie wants us to go with her to the bar tonight.

Julie wants to help bring breast cancer awareness to other young active women.

Julie wants me and she lets her bare bones wanting show.

Julie wants to ignore this revelation since the convicted killer George Lewis died in prison five years ago.

Julie wants to go and play.

Julie wants to get to know the new boy, David, until she discovers that his father is a giant!

Julie wants to buy a car with money given to her by her grandparents.

Julie wants to protect her reputation.

Julie wants to try to attract folks who have not previously toured the farm.

Julie wants to know if marketing is more important than sales in a service business.

Julie wants to call this one "sitting on top of the washer."

...but a little brown mav'rick is winking her eye.

2005-11-10T16:37:00.000-05:00

There are no writers in my suburbanally un-Hollywood daily life, but for four days each year I get to share air with other crazies like me at the Austin Film Festival. These are the kind of nutjobs who’ll gleefully talk screenplay minutia until the wee hours and whose eyebrows scrunch in perfect empathy when you’re wrestling with a story problem.

While I'm lucky to have some deeply cool and talented friends with whom to chill in the Driskill bar, this year we actually ventured out to attend the screening of SHOPGIRL. I loved Steve Martin's novella and the film was just as beautiful. There was a brief Q&A following, but we were sitting too far back to see very much… so, you could say I kinda geeked out later that evening when Jason Schwartzman and the director, Anand Tucker, walked past me into an AFF party.

As I watched them go, I wished I could thank them for creating a film I loved and thought it would be a lot of fun to chat with Anand about the novella and how the film’s tone felt just perfect to me…

So, I did.

And then they invited my friends and me to sit, so we hung out with them for a while. (I already knew this, but in case you did not: people are people. Write that down.)

Some other AFF highlights which felt a bit like fairy godparent intervention include:

~ the empty seat right beside Dan Petrie, Jr., the panelist I most wanted to meet in the roundtable session to which I was a few minutes late;

~ a bunch of convos with Bob Fisher and Steve Faber, the guys who brought us WEDDING CRASHERS. When I saw them on the list of panelists, I’d hoped to meet them and I’m happy I did -- they couldn’t be cooler or less full of shit;

~ hanging out with Terry George who, despite having written and directed an important film like HOTEL RWANDA, is charming and funny and respectful to as-yet-unproduced comedy writers;

~ being rudely interrupted mid-chat with Shane Black by a couple of young writers asking young-writer questions Shane had just answered in a panel earlier that day. I was struck by the character and patience Shane demonstrated with these guys. It was sweet to see. (Really. Don’t believe the hype.);

~ meeting Harold Ramis and absorbing the light of his ever-present smile for a few moments;

~ arriving at the Austin airport with just enough time before my flight to spend half an hour catching up with Phil Levens, über-laid-back AFF regular and showrunner of the upcoming South Beach;

In other good news...

My new job is perfect. Cool people. Just enough work to keep me busy, not so much to stress me out. And I leave there each day in time to write for a few hours before the cows come home.

And yesterday, I hammered out a logline I'm happy with and have started putting out some feelers.

Bippety-boppety-boo...

All the cattle are standing like statues…

2005-10-30T18:27:00.000-05:00

Lately, my world hasn’t responded to me in the usual way.

I decided to trade in my career for a job. So, I needed a job. Preferably something I could do by rote, that’s just interesting enough to keep me conscious during working hours. Hopefully, something that would pay enough to make it worth my time to dress myself and apply mascara and show up at the workplace. Cool people and part-time hours were high on the wish list, too (the better to pour my soul into my writing, rather than have it forcibly sucked out of me).

Tragically, I have more experience in legal assisting than any self-respecting holder of a baccalaureate degree ought to. No less tragic is the sad fact that it’s about the only job I’m qualified to do that would pay a half-decent salary. (Okay, it’s about the only job I’m legally qualified to do… etc.)

However, I’ve been out of that world for six years. Not so marketable. I should know, having spent those six years as a headhunter.

So, my hopes were not high when I registered with the legal placement agency, took their little typing test and jumped through their little secretarial hoops. They called my cell shortly after I left their office. They’d faxed my resume to a handful of law firms and two of them already wanted to interview me. Um… what?

I had six interviews over the next two days. Everyone who interviewed me wanted to hire me. Just… baffling.

There was one full-time (very full-time) paralegal gig that sounded juicy. The people were awesome, the work was fascinating, the money and potential were great. I left there really jazzed about it… ‘til I realized it wasn’t a job. It was a career. Not what I was looking for right now.

There are practically NO part-time legal assistant jobs in this town. The few that exist don’t pay nearly enough to cover my bills, but a 40-hour job wouldn’t give me enough time to write. Sigh…

I mentally created the perfect part-time gig…

And then I got it.

8:30am - 1pm, Monday - Friday. They’re paying me about twice what the job is worth. (The way-cool attorney asked what I wanted. I highballed. He said okay. Just… baffling.)

I start tomorrow. I’m not dreading it. Hope I can say the same about Tuesday.

More on the “everything’s going my way” theme, whenever I get around to recapping the Austin Film Festival & Screenwriters’ Conference, from which I’m still recovering…

Titles: A Parable

2005-10-16T21:35:00.000-04:00

Remember my soul-sucking career?

As of a couple days ago, I no longer have it. Don’t know yet how the bills are gonna get paid, but I feel lighter. Wind at my back, angels singing and the Universe in harmony kind of “lighter.”

So, I got that going for me.

Anyway, it was one of my at-home-writing days and The Boss called. I’ll call him “Mr. Christian” because that’s his name -- ever since he changed it to show the world just how very Christian he is. (Swear to god, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye, I’m not making that up.)

Mr. Christian asked what he and the other company Big Guys could do to help me be more successful... except, we both know where my heart and passion lie and it ain’t there. So, we amicably agreed to part ways, with his assurance that I’m welcome back anytime and thank you for everything and we support you and your writing and stay in touch.

Next morning, I excised four years’ worth of crap from my desk and computer then made the rounds of goodbyes. I sincerely like everyone there (and they claim it’s mutual), so it took a while.

Towards the end, I was in another Big Guy’s office, my favorite of the Big Guys, in fact. I’ll call him “Tom, the Deeply Devout Christian Who Nonetheless Drinks and Cusses and Openly Wishes his Wife Would Put Out More and/or Let Him Smoke Pot.” He asked a lot of questions about my writing and what’s the next step for me, etc. And Ed the Hovering New Guy, who I really don’t know because he’s only been there like two days, jumped in. He wanted to know the title of my script so he can keep an eye out at the multiplex.

I explained that it hasn’t been optioned or bought – or even marketed, yet – so there’s no need to do that. (Actually, I just didn’t want to tell them the title, as it sounds a tad racy…)

Ed the Hovering New Guy pushed. He really wanted to know the title. I really didn’t want to tell them. Especially since Pastor Bill (a real Pastor-cum-Headhunter) had wandered in and was now standing with the others, watching me expectantly.

I struggled to change the subject, while they clung to it like freakishly-overt-Christian headhunters who don’t get out much. Then Mr. Christian joined the group.

I was backed against a wall – literally – by Ed the Hovering New Guy and the three most pious mid-life crisis sufferers I’ve ever known. Given no choice, I fired my last round:

“Even if this script were bought and made, studios usually change the titles. It probably wouldn’t have the same title if it ever--”

“Well, what’s the title right now?” Ed the Hovering New Guy probed (tenacious bastard).

“Yeah! What’s the title? What do you call it? Just tell us what it is…” sang the Gospel choir.

“Fine!” I blurted, desperate now to get away from this wall and this office and Ed the Hovering New Guy and Mr. Christian and Pastor Bill and even Tom, the Deeply Devout Christian Who Nonetheless Drinks and Cusses and Openly Wishes his Wife Would Put Out More and/or Let Him Smoke Pot. So, I grudgingly confessed,

“The title is EROTIC MUSINGS OF AN AMERICAN HOUSEWIFE.”

Four pairs of bushy eyebrows shot up.

Then Mr. Christian giggled, “Oh, I’d read that!”

Yeah... It's always nice to know you’ve found a compelling title.

Hello. My name is Julie... and I am a Writer.

2005-10-05T16:22:00.000-04:00

I used to love my day job. “Headhunter.” It was fun to say.

“What do you do?”

“I’m a headhunter.”

The money was great, that didn’t hurt, either. I had Something to Prove and I was proving it.

Then one day, I noticed that writing wasn’t just something I did, it was something I Am…

Today, I was talking to the only friend at my day job who really seems to “get” me. I was complaining about the soul-suckingness of coming here and going through the motions, etc. And he asked why I didn’t explore some writing opportunities at the newspaper or something, to elevate my hobby to something I could make a living at.

Huh. Guess he didn’t really get me after all.

So, I endeavored to explain that screenwriting isn’t a hobby, at least, not to me.

Stamp collecting is a hobby. Origami is a hobby. Writing… well, that’s an addiction. A disease at the cellular level, every bit as destructive as alcoholism. It threatens jobs, lifestyles, marriages…

And I heard myself saying -- and as I spoke the words, I knew they were true -- that if I had to, I’d live in a hole somewhere eating Ramen noodles every meal, as long as I could write. I’d live in a box under an overpass, as long as I could write.

I used to think, as he does, that my writing somehow didn’t “count” unless I was getting paid for it. But, today I realized... it doesn’t matter if I ever make a living at this, as long as I get to DO THIS. The money (shrug) well, that’s just to keep the roof up there and the electricity on and the food on the table. I can earn enough to do all that without having An Impressive (and Soul-Sucking, Live-it-Eat-It-and-Breathe-It) Career.

There’s something deeply liberating in knowing I’m not A Total Failure if I never sell a script and never get that titular promotion from Writer to Screenwriter. It’s all about the Stories. I’ve finally gotten to the place where I’m writing for love of the craft (despite how much it hurts and makes me hate it, sometimes). And somehow, ironically, that makes me feel a wee bit closer to actually getting paid for it.

Done.

2005-10-02T14:59:00.000-04:00

“Done” is a meaningless and rather ironic word, sometimes.

My mom called as I was reading my last rewritten scene and determining it was (for now, anyway) “done.”

Mom: You don’t sound good, what’s the matter?

She always thinks I don’t sound good when I’m happy. Conversely, I apparently sound peachy when I’m ready to jump in front of a bus.

Me: I’m fine. Just finished my rewrite.

Mom: I thought you finished that a month ago. Which one is this?

Me: Yeah, it’s the same one. I finished it, then I rewrote it.

Mom: Oh.

(An interminably long beat as the generation gap expands with a jaw-cracking yawn.)

Mom (cont’d): I wish you’d do something with that children’s book. That was really great…

I’m sure things are different when you’re not writing on spec, ‘cause you get to go to that “it’s out of my hands” place. But at this juncture in my writing career, “done” is kinda anticlimactic.

In case you were wondering why I don't write poetry...

2005-09-14T23:46:00.000-04:00

Just took a jaunt down memory lane and came across a little something that's too embarrassing not to share with hundreds of anonymous strangers.

I wrote it years ago, while briefly dating an actor whom I fondly refer to these days as “Mindfuck Guy...”

And now, for your giggling pleasure, I present:

New Shoes

My palm sweats, clammy
beneath the blood of his heart.
I just finished squeezing the life out of it,
and no, there was no enjoyment in it for me.
I do this for myself.
It’s just coincidence that I was making love
to another man’s brain at the time.
I can’t help myself. You see, I
just looked back and I was gone.
My education continues and the
epicenter of my sensuality has vacated
its home between my legs and taken up
residence in my cranium.
I like these shoes.

Workin' at the car wash

2005-09-12T13:52:00.000-04:00

So, my girly-girl friend and her girly-girl friends decided to have a car wash to raise money for victims of hurricane Katrina. (We’ve already established that I’m not a girly-girl, but sending money and hand-me-downs from my air-conditioned home didn’t feel like enough, so I threw my sponge in.)

Now, I hate being the center of attention, so naturally, I volunteered to stand alone out on the eight-lane road, holding up a bright red poster directing cars to our little fundraiser.

This was after I cut off the bottom half of my standard-issue “Charity Chicks” T-shirt, the back of which read, “Get your car clean’a to help the victims of Katrina.” (I’m not joking. Wish I were. I didn’t write it. Hope you figured that out on your own.)

So, yeah. I, the reclusive writer-chick, spent about three hours on one of the busiest roads in town, dressed like I just got off work at Hooters, prancing around with my sign like a ring girl at a boxing match.

Oh-- and dancing. Almost forgot that part.

You may not know this about me, but I’m not much of a dancer. I’ve been called “Grace” a lot in my life, but I know a lot of folks who speak with their tongues in their cheeks.

But today, I was out there sweating off my sunscreen and Car Wash (the Rose Royce version) was playing in my head. And really, who can hear that song and not move? Honestly.

Couldn’t stay hydrated. It must’ve been in the mid-90s today and there was no shade on my little patch of sidewalk beside the 7-11 parking lot. So I kept trotting back to the lot for bottled water and a hose-down. (Which made my sunscreen turn white, like milk was drizzled all over me. Which is a good look -- if you're a cookie.)

Happily, I think we raised almost $2,000 today. A good chunk of the cash was from kind-faced people who simply handed us bills as they drove by, glad to help in any way they could. Most of the customers donated $20 or more. And I’m not nearly as sunburned as I imagined I’d be. (Addendum: with corporate matching, we earned closer to $4,000!)

I usually button my scenes and I almost always button my blog entries. But, I don’t have a button for this one. No “moral of the story” or “what have you learned, Dorothy?” For some reason, I got outside myself today. It was kinda fun and a little freer out there. Maybe I’ll get outside myself again, sometime.

Huh. Okay, maybe I did have a button…

Touched

2005-08-04T02:36:00.000-04:00

So, I’ve been pondering the sensation of being touched when you’re not actually being touched. When a non-physical Something causes an involuntary physical reaction.

I’ve got some John Mayer in the CD player right now. "Your Body is a Wonderland" is set on Repeat. The song ends and I’m still catching my breath when the thrumming begins again.

(I should probably stop listening to it in the car...)

As a writer, I’m especially fascinated by physiological responses to written words:

A gasp or an adrenaline surge.

Tears.

A thumping heart or a dry mouth or dilated pupils.

A blood rush.

The funniest scenes I've written have had me laughing out loud, usually before I've typed a word.

The only sadly emotional scene I've written left me with a heavy ache in my chest.

One sex scene took me over a week to write, because I kept getting distracted...

I'm certain that in order for music or paintings or words to physically touch an audience, they must originally resonate even more deeply with their creators. And that being the case, I feel there has to be some sort of energetic connection between artist and audience.

Dunno whether there's any real Universal truth to it, but I dig the concept.

Mother of the *&^%$.@! Year

2005-06-27T23:03:00.000-04:00

My seven year old daughter broke my heart yesterday.

Apparently, she’d been looking through old videotapes and found one with a bunch of her baby footage. I have no idea why we’ve never watched it with her. Life has been much more hectic since her little sister was born, almost four years ago. A “no excuse” excuse, but that’s all I got.

Anyway, she told me she had just watched her baby video and that it’d made her cry.

(This is the same kid who, at age three, the first time I let her watch WILLY WONKA AND THE CHOCOLATE FACTORY, wept at the end. I turned to her, expecting smiles, and saw silent tears rolling down her pudgy little cheeks. When I asked why she was crying, she said, “I’d just really like to go there one day.”)

So, her own baby video made her cry.

Because it made her feel old.

My seven year old daughter feels old, because we were all huggy and kissy and lovey with her in the video and she doesn’t get enough of that anymore. (This I intuited, but she agreed.) The whole “Munchie doesn’t get enough attention because Malfoy is sucking up all our time” issue is not new.

One night, about a month ago, I hugged Munchie and -- instead of letting go -- we just stood like that for a while.

Hugging... Rocking...

And my tears came.

And I sniffled and told her, “I don’t hug you enough. I’m sorry about that.”

And dammit, she was fucking sniffling, too.

She’s seven years old. She should have been pushing me away to go read or play or beat up her sister. Anything but clinging to me like she loves me so desperately, there’s nowhere else she’d rather be. What have I done to deserve this?!

She’s such a great kid. Funny and clever and smart and (god help us) a beautiful, leggy blonde (don’t ask me how that happened.) Guess I must’ve done something right along the way. Gotta try to figure out what that was and keep doing it.

And more of those great hugs, too. Definitely more of those...

I'm SO not a girly-girl

2005-06-20T06:26:00.000-04:00

It was that time of year again. Nina's Birthday Extravaganza. I've been friends with her for like a decade, but I'd usually rather spend my non-husband-and-kids time alone than with her.

Here's a quick illustration: Nina once told me she can't wait until I sell a screenplay so that she'll know someone famous. I was too fascinated by how she made my writing career all about her to even be annoyed. (I didn't bother to point out that she couldn't name the writers of any of her favorite films. I did, however, briefly go into why I have no desire to ever be famous, but her eyes glazed over, so I thwacked her on the forehead to get her back conscious. Since she was driving and all.)

Nina has been upset with me since I didn't make it to last year's "Watch the 30-Something Women Drink like Teenagers, Pretend to be Bisexual for the Entertainment of College Guys Who Aren't Looking Anyway, and Stumble Around Downtown Until they Vomit in the Limo" party. But this year, a couple of Nina's girlier girlfriends organized a "24-hour Girls' Day & Sleepover." Sounded a little more doable, so I forced the bile back down my throat and RSVP'd with a reluctant "Yes."

I won't bore either of us with a complete recap, but here are some highlights:

Part of the Girliest Day I've Ever Spent was a group pedicure. About a dozen of us sat in massage chairs along one wall with our feet in these fabulous jazuzzi things. (Previously, I was a pedi virgin -- I've always just done them myself and figured I can do without the foot and calf massage.) I was worried I'd kick the lady in the teeth, because my feet are crazy ticklish, but happily, I did not. And they kept my glass full of champagne (when it wasn't full of appletinis) and fed me cheese and crackers. It didn't suck. Don't get me wrong, I won't be back, but it didn't suck.

Sometime in the afternoon, a few of us were standing in the kitchen inspecting the goods of one of the birthday girl's friends who'd recently had her third boob job. They look good. The scars aren't terrible, despite the lift. I'd expected her to look like the Bride of Frankenstein under there. Oh-- and she got silicone. Apparently you can get it if you've had implants before. They're softer than saline, she said. We were encouraged to feel for ourselves. I thought they felt kind of hard, but that might have been residual swelling. They were still only a few weeks old.

There was more flashing and grabbing of breasts and asses and nipple-tweaking than I would've expected, yet when the subject of threesomes came up, those who spoke up were vehemently disgusted by the whole idea and would never, ever, ever be with another woman, and wouldn't even think about sharing their men!
(Funny thing is, Nina was one of the more vocal No-Way'ers but I happen to know she has had a threesome in which she did share her husband [because her husband told mine].)

Later, the hostess showed us how she gives a lapdance. To a wide-screen television. (That wasn't on.) Apparently, she does this at parties a lot.

I know it's a birthday party, but... um... I don't think I belong in here.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: Lonely in a roomful of people is the loneliest lonely I know.
Next year, when Nina's birthday extravaganza rolls around, I'll probably just stay home and give myself a pedicure.

Pithiness is next to godliness

2005-06-10T02:23:00.000-04:00

And now... the shortest story I've ever written:

EMPTY NEST (49 words)

She lies on the bed, braced for the obligatory bi-monthly marital relations. He joins her immediately - no need to lock the door anymore with both kids at college. She gives and receives a chaste kiss, a fond smile. Closing her eyes, she thinks about Harrison Ford. So does he.