"We can be heroes ... just for one day."
Who's your hero?
Is it your father? Your mother? Is it a guy you knew in school who could have had a promising career in sports, science or the arts and instead, he enlisted in the military? Is it someone who did something that made this world a better place, if only for a few minutes? Is it someone who wrote or said a line that makes the midnight in your soul pass just that much quicker? Do you even know them personally?
When you create a character, whether it's for the printed page or the stage, what positive qualities would that hero possess? What do you find admirable? Determination? Loyalty? Kindness towards the disadvantaged?
Now let's add some other qualities. What qualities do you not find attractive? Chronic lying? Co-dependence? Self-destructive tendencies? Shy around women? Claustrophobic? Isn't a hero without flaws kinda dull?
Indiana Jones is courageous and curious, yet his devotion to preserving antiquities prevented him from dispatching his greatest enemy.
The first Doctor (from Doctor Who) once endangered his granddaughter and her teachers simply because he was curious. In fact, he disabled his TARDIS to ensure they stayed around long enough for him to investigate the era they'd landed in.
Clark Kent might get more accomplished if he didn't feel the overwhelming need to preserve the secret of his dual identity.
Building a character might often be as easy as -- to quote the old saying -- picking from Column A, then something from Column B.
Make two lists of personality traits. One column should be all positive traits (courageous, polite, benevolent, heroic, etc.) and the other with personality flaws. Close your eyes and let your finger fall on one column, then the other, and see what you come up with.
Then construct a history for the character. How did they become the person you made? What events reinforced their positive values? Their limitations? You can hit the high notes without having to scribble out the entire symphony, but work out enough to justify the hero's traits. After all, most people know what happened to Bruce Wayne when he and his parents exited The Mark of Zorro. On the other hand, knowing what position Bruce played on the Bill Finger High School sophomore basketball team might not be that vital or all that interesting.
So far, I've kept the protagonist as a male in the current day in America. Now change the era, the gender, and the setting. How did a man with firm religious convictions and a fear of the number six become that way before he began exploring the Antares System? Emily's curiosity suited her desire to become a nurse, but could she overcome her shyness while living in the District of Columbia during the final days of the War of 1812?
Now do the same thing for your villain. Here's where you can have some real fun! Make two lists of positive traits. Work up two lists of character flaws. Create a list with a positive and a negative column. Change the gender. Change the time period. Change the setting.
Then give your protagonist a goal. Provide a motivation for your villain to not allow him/her to succeed. Now you have a story!
How do you create YOUR characters? What settings fascinate you the most? How have your most thoroughly-composed characters influenced your plots? Have they changed them at all? Discuss, s'il vous plait!
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Monday, May 21, 2012
"Reject ME, will you? I reject YOU!!!" (insert maniacal cackling)
Near-death experiences are pretty much expected at auto races and in the Intensive Care Unit of any hospital. It shouldn't occur when you open the mail or get into your e-mailbox.
I spoke last week about receiving a rejection to your creative efforts. It can be a demoralizing experience until you have your emotional shields up and working. And even then, it may sting a little because you put some work into that, right? Whether it's girding your loins for an audition or sending off some art or a piece of your writing. It's like hearing that your children are too short to ride the roller coaster they've been aching to experience for what seems forever.
First, give yourself a few minutes to grieve. You put forth the effort to create, research your market, and then submit, so you're entitled to a moment. Walk around the block. Use this as an excuse to buy something nice. Console yourself that your efforts would have been accepted if the buyer/producer had a human soul. Then close the door on the pity party.
Now here's where you make your work stronger. Let's start out with looking at your writing.
You've probably not seen your baby for a couple of months. Take a cold, calculating look at the work. Read it aloud once again. You did read it aloud when you first sent it out, right? Sure, it feels wacky/crazy/demented/creepy but your writing can't read any better than it sounds. Make sure it sounds right, which is always a good reason to brush up on your elocution and vocabulary. If you find yourself wanting to rush through speaking the piece, chances are your audience can't wait for it to end either -- and I don't mean rushing to find out how it ends so much as when.
This is where you get the opportunity to re-evaluate your work, rewrite it if necessary, and then send it out, a stronger work than before.
If you are auditioning for a part, this is where you can re-run your "gaffs" and instead of kicking yourself for committing them, even if inadvertently, you can re-rehearse and strengthen your presentation. And remember that sometimes, a producer or director may see what they're looking for anyway.
A personal aside here: once, I auditioned for a local production of The Music Man. My goal was to snag the role of Charlie, the anvil salesman. Well, I did just about everything wrong that an actor could do during the audition. First of all, I showed up 20 minutes late. By then, the dancing piece was rehearsed and everyone floated like the Law of Gravity had been repealed. My reading was okay, but then we had to sing and my voice wasn't warmed up. I left the audition ready to give up singing, dancing, acting, writing, and living. I was morose for two solid days over my total fubar of an audition.
However, I received a phone call from one of the stage managers. I was told that didn't get the role of Charlie, which I expected, and waited for the plea to never audition again ... a request that never came because I was offered the role of Mayor Shinn, a much meatier role. So sometimes, you're a good fit ... sometimes you aren't ... but what good will it do to fill your time with regret.
I've heard it said that to get almost any job, you need to be 1) talented, 2) good with deadlines, and 3) a good person. But what if you don't sell your script or snag that role?
Thank them anyway.
When you receive any sort of rejection, just drop a friendly line, reminding them of your work ("my audition for the role of Q.C. Proops in your production of Jekyll and Hyde," "my one-act play Beach Blanket Bazinga," "my novelization of The Two Towers," etc.) and to thank them for the opportunity.
This places your name in the back of TPTB's mind. Next time, if it's a choice between you and someone of comparable talent, your total class and positive attitude will stick in their minds. It could give you the edge you need to land that next gig because you sound like someone who they will want to work with
Perhaps they'll even wonder if they made the correct choice after all.
I've heard of people who've lost out on jobs who later got a call when the first candidate didn't work out. If nothing else, you may establish a relationship with someone who may even become a friend later on. I know it's worked for me in the past and you lose nothing from the effort.
But what's most important is to think of yourself like a shark. You must swim, constantly move forward to survive. Keep writing ... continue to work on your monologue ... work those strings ... continue to create and to get better at what you do. Eventually, you can turn those rejections into contacts, productions, and paychecks.
Near-death experiences are pretty much expected at auto races and in the Intensive Care Unit of any hospital. It shouldn't occur when you open the mail or get into your e-mailbox.
I spoke last week about receiving a rejection to your creative efforts. It can be a demoralizing experience until you have your emotional shields up and working. And even then, it may sting a little because you put some work into that, right? Whether it's girding your loins for an audition or sending off some art or a piece of your writing. It's like hearing that your children are too short to ride the roller coaster they've been aching to experience for what seems forever.
First, give yourself a few minutes to grieve. You put forth the effort to create, research your market, and then submit, so you're entitled to a moment. Walk around the block. Use this as an excuse to buy something nice. Console yourself that your efforts would have been accepted if the buyer/producer had a human soul. Then close the door on the pity party.
Now here's where you make your work stronger. Let's start out with looking at your writing.
You've probably not seen your baby for a couple of months. Take a cold, calculating look at the work. Read it aloud once again. You did read it aloud when you first sent it out, right? Sure, it feels wacky/crazy/demented/creepy but your writing can't read any better than it sounds. Make sure it sounds right, which is always a good reason to brush up on your elocution and vocabulary. If you find yourself wanting to rush through speaking the piece, chances are your audience can't wait for it to end either -- and I don't mean rushing to find out how it ends so much as when.
This is where you get the opportunity to re-evaluate your work, rewrite it if necessary, and then send it out, a stronger work than before.
If you are auditioning for a part, this is where you can re-run your "gaffs" and instead of kicking yourself for committing them, even if inadvertently, you can re-rehearse and strengthen your presentation. And remember that sometimes, a producer or director may see what they're looking for anyway.
A personal aside here: once, I auditioned for a local production of The Music Man. My goal was to snag the role of Charlie, the anvil salesman. Well, I did just about everything wrong that an actor could do during the audition. First of all, I showed up 20 minutes late. By then, the dancing piece was rehearsed and everyone floated like the Law of Gravity had been repealed. My reading was okay, but then we had to sing and my voice wasn't warmed up. I left the audition ready to give up singing, dancing, acting, writing, and living. I was morose for two solid days over my total fubar of an audition.
However, I received a phone call from one of the stage managers. I was told that didn't get the role of Charlie, which I expected, and waited for the plea to never audition again ... a request that never came because I was offered the role of Mayor Shinn, a much meatier role. So sometimes, you're a good fit ... sometimes you aren't ... but what good will it do to fill your time with regret.
I've heard it said that to get almost any job, you need to be 1) talented, 2) good with deadlines, and 3) a good person. But what if you don't sell your script or snag that role?
Thank them anyway.
When you receive any sort of rejection, just drop a friendly line, reminding them of your work ("my audition for the role of Q.C. Proops in your production of Jekyll and Hyde," "my one-act play Beach Blanket Bazinga," "my novelization of The Two Towers," etc.) and to thank them for the opportunity.
This places your name in the back of TPTB's mind. Next time, if it's a choice between you and someone of comparable talent, your total class and positive attitude will stick in their minds. It could give you the edge you need to land that next gig because you sound like someone who they will want to work with
Perhaps they'll even wonder if they made the correct choice after all.
I've heard of people who've lost out on jobs who later got a call when the first candidate didn't work out. If nothing else, you may establish a relationship with someone who may even become a friend later on. I know it's worked for me in the past and you lose nothing from the effort.
But what's most important is to think of yourself like a shark. You must swim, constantly move forward to survive. Keep writing ... continue to work on your monologue ... work those strings ... continue to create and to get better at what you do. Eventually, you can turn those rejections into contacts, productions, and paychecks.
Thursday, May 17, 2012
"You hate me ... you really hate me ... "
No one ever died from being told "no" ... well, maybe Socrates when he asked, "You got something I can chase this hemlock with?"
When you get that letter, phone call, or e-mail saying that you've been turned down, it should never be a reason for celebration. If that's the case, you should have your temperature taken and the thermometer placed nowhere near your mouth. No one enjoys rejection for any reason. In any creative field, someone not desiring your services seems especially painful.
A writer may spend hours polishing their blog content. In the case of an article or a poem, it could be days. And with novels or full-length plays, we could be talking about years of concerted effort. After investing all that sweat equity, to say nothing of locating a market for your talents and taking the time and trouble to present your work, it hurts just a little (or a lot, depending on how much you wanted the acceptance) to be turned down.
Even in the case of an actor, that person could have read the script, rehearsed a song, or memorized a monologue for the audition. This doesn't count the years spent learning to put together a role inside one's head, much less the time spent in training the voice, learning to move on stage, or just finding a way to commit the lines and blocking to memory. In writing, anything that comes from the keyboard reflects the living and processing of a lifetime's worth of stimuli. It's become almost cliche to liken our stories to our genetic progeny, but still ...
While it still may sting to receive a rejection, I just remind myself of several things. First of all, and foremost, they are not rejecting me as a creative person or as a human being. Heck, they don't even know me. The only contact they have -- or may ever have -- is the creative product I've put before them.
Since I've been in the position of being able to accept writing or to cast performers, it's never really personal. The overall work must be of primary importance. Does this fit the overall design? Will it/they work well alongside others? It might be good. It might be brilliant. However, it may not be a good fit for the project and there's nothing wrong with that.
Years ago, I submitted a short play to a production company in the hopes that it would be included in their Christmas-themed night of plays. Of course, it had Santa Claus in it ... but I wanted to do something that wouldn't be too saccharine or overly sentimental so I added a dollop of dark humor to it. Naturally, I didn't exactly capture the warmth of the holiday within my work (when was the last time you heard the words "advanced decomposition" in a Christmas play?) so I wasn't surprised when the note came back that it didn't fit the evening's overall theme. I was told the committee found it quite amusing ... horrifying, but amusing. But hey, ya gotta try!
Instead of treating a rejection as if it said that you had two months to live, you should find positive uses for it. Use it to 1) learn, 2) keep the door open for future submissions, and 3) make them wonder if they made the right choice after all. How can you do that?
I'll cover that next time around.
So what have been some of your most memorable rejections? Did any crush you, if only for a little while? Or did they inspire you to keep trying? Leave me some comments, okay?
No one ever died from being told "no" ... well, maybe Socrates when he asked, "You got something I can chase this hemlock with?"
When you get that letter, phone call, or e-mail saying that you've been turned down, it should never be a reason for celebration. If that's the case, you should have your temperature taken and the thermometer placed nowhere near your mouth. No one enjoys rejection for any reason. In any creative field, someone not desiring your services seems especially painful.
A writer may spend hours polishing their blog content. In the case of an article or a poem, it could be days. And with novels or full-length plays, we could be talking about years of concerted effort. After investing all that sweat equity, to say nothing of locating a market for your talents and taking the time and trouble to present your work, it hurts just a little (or a lot, depending on how much you wanted the acceptance) to be turned down.
Even in the case of an actor, that person could have read the script, rehearsed a song, or memorized a monologue for the audition. This doesn't count the years spent learning to put together a role inside one's head, much less the time spent in training the voice, learning to move on stage, or just finding a way to commit the lines and blocking to memory. In writing, anything that comes from the keyboard reflects the living and processing of a lifetime's worth of stimuli. It's become almost cliche to liken our stories to our genetic progeny, but still ...
While it still may sting to receive a rejection, I just remind myself of several things. First of all, and foremost, they are not rejecting me as a creative person or as a human being. Heck, they don't even know me. The only contact they have -- or may ever have -- is the creative product I've put before them.
Since I've been in the position of being able to accept writing or to cast performers, it's never really personal. The overall work must be of primary importance. Does this fit the overall design? Will it/they work well alongside others? It might be good. It might be brilliant. However, it may not be a good fit for the project and there's nothing wrong with that.
Years ago, I submitted a short play to a production company in the hopes that it would be included in their Christmas-themed night of plays. Of course, it had Santa Claus in it ... but I wanted to do something that wouldn't be too saccharine or overly sentimental so I added a dollop of dark humor to it. Naturally, I didn't exactly capture the warmth of the holiday within my work (when was the last time you heard the words "advanced decomposition" in a Christmas play?) so I wasn't surprised when the note came back that it didn't fit the evening's overall theme. I was told the committee found it quite amusing ... horrifying, but amusing. But hey, ya gotta try!
Instead of treating a rejection as if it said that you had two months to live, you should find positive uses for it. Use it to 1) learn, 2) keep the door open for future submissions, and 3) make them wonder if they made the right choice after all. How can you do that?
I'll cover that next time around.
So what have been some of your most memorable rejections? Did any crush you, if only for a little while? Or did they inspire you to keep trying? Leave me some comments, okay?
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
"And for a small fee ... "
We all give stuff away. It can be a dollar to a stranger, twenty percent to a waitperson for keeping your coffee cup filled, or just a smile to someone who needs the heck out of it. But it's our choice. You can avert your gaze from anyone with a hungry look in their eyes, leave the table with nothing but the bill, or keep your expression neutral. Again, it's your choice.
In the world of writing, however, there are many out there who claim to be giving wordsmiths the favor of their lives to letting them submit to a publishing/producing opportunity. This seems to be especially prevalent in the field of play writing. Many so-called "festivals" allow a writer to send in a script ... provided that they also include a check.
Sometimes, the people behind the "festival" say it's to pay for a reader. Sometimes, that person might even provide a written critique of your story. Most of the time, you gain nothing whatsoever except the "opportunity" to submit your work for approval.
Once, very long ago, a production company was working on a series of teleplays that would be syndicated to various PBS stations. So being the opportunist I am, I sent in a dark comedy about a guy who was out to shame the people who'd embarrassed him in high school. Well, the script came back with a note from the "reader" who proceeded to tell me what a miserable hack I was, how I lacked any sort of writing talent, and even that because of my relentlessly grim tone -- regular readers of my work are now cued to utter "Huh?" -- I should never place my fingertips upon a keyboard ever again.
His justification for his "expert" opinion, as stated in his rejection letter to me, was that he had almost finished his semester of Rhetoric 101. Apparently, this gave this person all the skills required to save the literary world from my presence, except it didn't work.
Today, all a smart alec know-it-all needs as far as bully pulpits go is a blog ... and why are you staring at me like that and smiling? I digress ...
Anyway, the only saving grace of this incident, aside from having another anecdote to collect, was that I didn't have to pay for the experience.
However, too many play "producers" consider their writers to be a revenue stream. They don't charge their actors for auditioning. They don't demand their directors pony up to get the nod to spearhead the production. But they demand the playwrights send a check along with their submission. Why?
Because they know we're hungry, and insecure, enough to pay the money.
Terms like "exposure" and "prestige" are tossed about like a certain John Chapman used to toss apple seeds. As a buddy once told me, that and a fin will get you a coffee at Starbuck's.
The fact is that this is unfair as can be. Unless it's an electronic submission, we will invest the cost of photocopying and postage on top of any extortion levied in the form of "fees."
Now I'm not talking about contests that charge an entry fee. That's a whole 'nother consideration because you are told up front what your potential investment could score and you know it's for whatever prizes. However, many companies will offer prizes and royalties without billing the writer for it. That's because they know how to properly run a theater company. Can you say "sponsors?"
If a company levies a $25.00 fee and I send in fifty, shouldn't my odds of being produced be twice as good as anyone else's?
Many of us will contact the producers who participate in this odious practice to reasonably try to educate them in the error of their ways. Many of the companies will change their policies. But too many will not and they are too greedy or morally numb to care why we object.
The playwright puts as much effort into his or her share of the production as any member of the theater, perhaps more. Writing, rewriting, crafting, marketing, more rewriting, researching, staging readings, still more rewriting, it's all a part of the process. It's done because we want it done right and we realize that our words are the foundation to any production. Without our scripts, it's all improv ... or a darkened theater.
The Dramatists Guild disapproves of charging fees. Every working playwright should be proud enough of their craft to do so also.
What do you think? Would you pay to have your work produced by someone else?
We all give stuff away. It can be a dollar to a stranger, twenty percent to a waitperson for keeping your coffee cup filled, or just a smile to someone who needs the heck out of it. But it's our choice. You can avert your gaze from anyone with a hungry look in their eyes, leave the table with nothing but the bill, or keep your expression neutral. Again, it's your choice.
In the world of writing, however, there are many out there who claim to be giving wordsmiths the favor of their lives to letting them submit to a publishing/producing opportunity. This seems to be especially prevalent in the field of play writing. Many so-called "festivals" allow a writer to send in a script ... provided that they also include a check.
Sometimes, the people behind the "festival" say it's to pay for a reader. Sometimes, that person might even provide a written critique of your story. Most of the time, you gain nothing whatsoever except the "opportunity" to submit your work for approval.
Once, very long ago, a production company was working on a series of teleplays that would be syndicated to various PBS stations. So being the opportunist I am, I sent in a dark comedy about a guy who was out to shame the people who'd embarrassed him in high school. Well, the script came back with a note from the "reader" who proceeded to tell me what a miserable hack I was, how I lacked any sort of writing talent, and even that because of my relentlessly grim tone -- regular readers of my work are now cued to utter "Huh?" -- I should never place my fingertips upon a keyboard ever again.
His justification for his "expert" opinion, as stated in his rejection letter to me, was that he had almost finished his semester of Rhetoric 101. Apparently, this gave this person all the skills required to save the literary world from my presence, except it didn't work.
Today, all a smart alec know-it-all needs as far as bully pulpits go is a blog ... and why are you staring at me like that and smiling? I digress ...
Anyway, the only saving grace of this incident, aside from having another anecdote to collect, was that I didn't have to pay for the experience.
However, too many play "producers" consider their writers to be a revenue stream. They don't charge their actors for auditioning. They don't demand their directors pony up to get the nod to spearhead the production. But they demand the playwrights send a check along with their submission. Why?
Because they know we're hungry, and insecure, enough to pay the money.
Terms like "exposure" and "prestige" are tossed about like a certain John Chapman used to toss apple seeds. As a buddy once told me, that and a fin will get you a coffee at Starbuck's.
The fact is that this is unfair as can be. Unless it's an electronic submission, we will invest the cost of photocopying and postage on top of any extortion levied in the form of "fees."
Now I'm not talking about contests that charge an entry fee. That's a whole 'nother consideration because you are told up front what your potential investment could score and you know it's for whatever prizes. However, many companies will offer prizes and royalties without billing the writer for it. That's because they know how to properly run a theater company. Can you say "sponsors?"
If a company levies a $25.00 fee and I send in fifty, shouldn't my odds of being produced be twice as good as anyone else's?
Many of us will contact the producers who participate in this odious practice to reasonably try to educate them in the error of their ways. Many of the companies will change their policies. But too many will not and they are too greedy or morally numb to care why we object.
The playwright puts as much effort into his or her share of the production as any member of the theater, perhaps more. Writing, rewriting, crafting, marketing, more rewriting, researching, staging readings, still more rewriting, it's all a part of the process. It's done because we want it done right and we realize that our words are the foundation to any production. Without our scripts, it's all improv ... or a darkened theater.
The Dramatists Guild disapproves of charging fees. Every working playwright should be proud enough of their craft to do so also.
What do you think? Would you pay to have your work produced by someone else?
Friday, May 11, 2012
"As I was saying ..."
Sorry for not having my usual twice-weekly ground-level writing offerings this week. The time's been spent bidding on some writing gigs and doing some ghost writing for a friend. Then again, being busy is better than NOT being busy, right?
***
Recent visits to the library leave me questioning my taste level. I used to love going to movies. When I moved from home, I used to see four or more films in a day, traveling around town via bus to make the next showing. Sharing the experience of appreciating a good movie just made it even better.
However, theater prices and rude patrons -- do people living far away really need your running commentary not just on the film but on life itself? -- drove me from the cinema. So with the local library allowing film rentals, I've been catching up on some films that I would otherwise have missed and the result is I've been wondering about my taste level.
Apparently the only taste I have is in my mouth. I watched The Spirit and didn't find it the travesty a lot of the blogisphere did. It wasn't at all what Will Eisner created over 70 years ago, aside from using some of the names. Instead, I thought it was a stylish send-up of the noir/comic book/heroic film genres.
Gosh, I hope it was a send-up ...
Battlefield Earth was no worse than some of the '50s sci-fi flicks that I grew up watching on midnight weekend TV. At times, it was delightfully incomprehensible and filled with a few actors who were almost sweating from the strain of trying to act their way through the script. Sorry to say, one of them wasn't John Travolta, but he's done enough great work to make up for it. Shampoo and Phenomenon make up for almost any acting sins committed elsewhere.
Heck, Catwoman's greatest asset, aside from Halle Berry who can make almost any role watchable, was a review by X-Play's Adam Sessler who pointed out the video game's screensaver function -- one that showed Catwoman stretching and swaying for the libidinous viewer's pleasure -- actually made pausing the game more fun than playing it. Well, it wasn't the worst film ever ... not even close ... but it wasn't worth the venom expended by a lot of "reviewers," many of whom I'm not sure saw the same film I did.
In fact, one time I was in a local gaming store where a conversation broke out among the patrons about recent films. One guy responded to every review with some snarky comment, belittling the film and anyone who was foolish enough to spend real cash on seeing it. After a while, I noticed he'd made pronouncements on a couple of movies based on things that hadn't occurred and I asked, "Did you even see these films?"
Sneering and looking at me from over his nose, he proclaimed, "I don't have to. I get my information off the Internet."
I replied, "Well, when you finally grow an opinion of your own, come back to talk to me," and left. Being wrong is one thing. Pride in willful ignoring is quite another matter.
So what movies did you enjoy that leaves your friends and family shaking their heads, doubting your sanity?
Sorry for not having my usual twice-weekly ground-level writing offerings this week. The time's been spent bidding on some writing gigs and doing some ghost writing for a friend. Then again, being busy is better than NOT being busy, right?
***
Recent visits to the library leave me questioning my taste level. I used to love going to movies. When I moved from home, I used to see four or more films in a day, traveling around town via bus to make the next showing. Sharing the experience of appreciating a good movie just made it even better.
However, theater prices and rude patrons -- do people living far away really need your running commentary not just on the film but on life itself? -- drove me from the cinema. So with the local library allowing film rentals, I've been catching up on some films that I would otherwise have missed and the result is I've been wondering about my taste level.
Apparently the only taste I have is in my mouth. I watched The Spirit and didn't find it the travesty a lot of the blogisphere did. It wasn't at all what Will Eisner created over 70 years ago, aside from using some of the names. Instead, I thought it was a stylish send-up of the noir/comic book/heroic film genres.
Gosh, I hope it was a send-up ...
Battlefield Earth was no worse than some of the '50s sci-fi flicks that I grew up watching on midnight weekend TV. At times, it was delightfully incomprehensible and filled with a few actors who were almost sweating from the strain of trying to act their way through the script. Sorry to say, one of them wasn't John Travolta, but he's done enough great work to make up for it. Shampoo and Phenomenon make up for almost any acting sins committed elsewhere.
Heck, Catwoman's greatest asset, aside from Halle Berry who can make almost any role watchable, was a review by X-Play's Adam Sessler who pointed out the video game's screensaver function -- one that showed Catwoman stretching and swaying for the libidinous viewer's pleasure -- actually made pausing the game more fun than playing it. Well, it wasn't the worst film ever ... not even close ... but it wasn't worth the venom expended by a lot of "reviewers," many of whom I'm not sure saw the same film I did.
In fact, one time I was in a local gaming store where a conversation broke out among the patrons about recent films. One guy responded to every review with some snarky comment, belittling the film and anyone who was foolish enough to spend real cash on seeing it. After a while, I noticed he'd made pronouncements on a couple of movies based on things that hadn't occurred and I asked, "Did you even see these films?"
Sneering and looking at me from over his nose, he proclaimed, "I don't have to. I get my information off the Internet."
I replied, "Well, when you finally grow an opinion of your own, come back to talk to me," and left. Being wrong is one thing. Pride in willful ignoring is quite another matter.
So what movies did you enjoy that leaves your friends and family shaking their heads, doubting your sanity?
Thursday, May 3, 2012
"Why did you start a blog, Brian?"
Figures I'd ask during the third week of it, right? It's the secret of comedy ... TIMING!
Anyway, I'm frequently asked for writing advice since over the years because I've written a lot of stuff. Most of it's been while working for The Man (occasionally, The Woman). But during those years, I've learned how to write a multitude of things such as business plans, copy for ads (print, TV, radio), podcasts, audio fiction, scripts for the stage, comic books, television, and I'm closing in on completing my first screenplay. I've also conducted interviews, written reviews, executed research for other writers, and performed interview transcripts for magazines, books, and DVD commentary specials.
Except for the different formats, it's all words.
How do all these words get put together? It's a combination of inspiration, desperation, determination, and forcing the fingertips onto the keys.
It helps that I haven't had Writer's Block since the Spring of 1970. What I don't have is the time and energy to do all the stories inside me. I refuse to wait for my muse to find me. Instead, I'd rather hunt her down, kick her door down, and pull my next story from her (but in a respectful, life-affirming way, of course).
Eventually, I'd like to share not only my thoughts on writing in all media, but also samples of what I do. I'm also working on a collection of short stories. Eventually, this stuff will wind up in book form. However, you can read the stuff early. I also welcome your comments. We could both learn something that way, you know.
If you have any questions, I'd love to toss them out for discussion. And if you have any suggestions for me, I'd welcome your input.
So let's read about writing. However, it's not always just an adventure ... sometimes, it's a job.
Speaking of which, if you need my services, check out http://linkd.in/H7vJst for my resume and a profile that I worked hard to make pretty. Btw, I can help you do that too. Just letting you know ...
Figures I'd ask during the third week of it, right? It's the secret of comedy ... TIMING!
Anyway, I'm frequently asked for writing advice since over the years because I've written a lot of stuff. Most of it's been while working for The Man (occasionally, The Woman). But during those years, I've learned how to write a multitude of things such as business plans, copy for ads (print, TV, radio), podcasts, audio fiction, scripts for the stage, comic books, television, and I'm closing in on completing my first screenplay. I've also conducted interviews, written reviews, executed research for other writers, and performed interview transcripts for magazines, books, and DVD commentary specials.
Except for the different formats, it's all words.
How do all these words get put together? It's a combination of inspiration, desperation, determination, and forcing the fingertips onto the keys.
It helps that I haven't had Writer's Block since the Spring of 1970. What I don't have is the time and energy to do all the stories inside me. I refuse to wait for my muse to find me. Instead, I'd rather hunt her down, kick her door down, and pull my next story from her (but in a respectful, life-affirming way, of course).
Eventually, I'd like to share not only my thoughts on writing in all media, but also samples of what I do. I'm also working on a collection of short stories. Eventually, this stuff will wind up in book form. However, you can read the stuff early. I also welcome your comments. We could both learn something that way, you know.
If you have any questions, I'd love to toss them out for discussion. And if you have any suggestions for me, I'd welcome your input.
So let's read about writing. However, it's not always just an adventure ... sometimes, it's a job.
Speaking of which, if you need my services, check out http://linkd.in/H7vJst for my resume and a profile that I worked hard to make pretty. Btw, I can help you do that too. Just letting you know ...
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