Category: Writing

  • ODDS and ENDS: UNION!, American Folklore, and Ice Cream

    (Casey Jones you better watch your speed!)

    Oh, shit! The actors joined the strike! Yup, SAG-AFTRA is on the picket line with the WGA, and now no one gets pretty new movies and shows this Fall! I hope you’re happy Studios! Both sides will make their case over the next few weeks, seeing who can build up the bigger public support, and then the real negotiations will begin. The truth of the matter is that the delivery of entertainment has changed. The traditional way for studios to earn income (movie theatres, cable, and ad tv) has declined and streaming hasn’t closed the gap, though that’s how everyone wants to get their entertainment. But I will also point out there are only five media corporations in the US, and it’s been that way for a very long time, so if they aren’t making money, that’s on them. It’s not like there is a ton competition out in the market. Media is an oligopoly so they are in control for how it all works. The studios could solve this tomorrow; stop paying your C-Suite hundreds of millions of dollars. Sorry, but CEO’s can only have two mansions, one Learjet, and one yacht from here on out. We all will have to make sacrifices to survive.

    And when was the last time you thought about American Folklore? Like, Casey Jones, Paul Bunyan, and John Henry. They don’t teach that stuff in school anymore. I asked my daughter about it, and she has no idea what I was talking about. I can’t prove this, but I have this weird feeling that schools were teaching American Folklore as a form of propaganda, to get us kids to believe that there was a mythology to American development and enguiniety, instead of teaching us that our past was a whole lot more about exploitation and exclusion. I can’t prove it, but these people who pushed the Folklore might have been the same people that killed teaching us kids the metric system.

    Ice cream really is the best. Doesn’t matter the season, ice cream is perfect.

  • Can’t Get an Idea to Stick (Unedited)

    I have been working since this morning, and I can’t get an idea to stuck for the blog.

    I have summer on the brain, and I can’t get myself to focus.

    And this is a cop-out of a blog, in case you weren’t sure.

    I can’t write, so I write about not being able to write.

    I should make a category for this posts.

    The other thing that becomes apparent on days like this is that I don’t do enough pre-planning for blog posts. I do them day of, most of the time, and when moments like this occur, I feel like I got caught with my pants down.

    Long ago, I tried writing ahead, so I could give myself windows of time off. I should revisit that plan.

    Since I am throwing in the towel for today at 3:14pm, I might just state what I have been doing while trying to come up with a blog idea.

    1. I went shopping for journals with my daughter.
    2. I read the Wikipedia page on Watergate.
    3. I have been following all of my writer and actor friend’s social media posts to see when the SAG-AFTRA strike is going to start.
    4. For lunch, I got falafel sandwiches for the family.
    5. Finished my Summer Playlist
    6. I took a nap.
    7. I read some flash fiction.

    Now, I’m about to take the kid to the local pool as it is summer and hot as shit out. Thus will end my writing portion of the day.

    At least I got 262 words in.

  • ODDS and ENDS: Summer Playlist, Ringo, and Rejected

    (It’s just a jump to the left…)

    Our Summer Road Trippin’ is about to start. The thrill of leaving the City is building in me, as I use my Magical Thinking to forget about how awful traffic is on I-95. (Anywhere on I-95, it’s bad.) And with the road trips comes a friendly competition between the wife and me – Who Can Come Up with The Better Playlist? First of all, there never is a winner – it’s more like an exhibition, a “friendly” so the speak, than a competition. The rule of the contest is that the list needs to be 3+ hours long (we are driving after all) and needs to loosely tie into the theme of Summer/Travel/Vacation or getting away. We do repeat songs from year to year, and occasionally we do have the same song on our lists. (Harry Styles and Paul Simon are the frequent repeated artists.) This year, we have added a rule, which is we need to accommodate some of the songs our daughter likes. She’s beginning to form her own strong opinions on music, and we want her to feel that she has a say in all of this. My lists can be rock and grunge heavy, but this year I want to work in more 70’s funk. Oh, and the Tom Tom Club will have a prominent spot this year.

    Today is Ringo Stars birthday, if you didn’t know.

    I got a rejection notice at 2:22am last night. A bit of an odd hour, but I guess lit journals don’t keep banker’s hours. The magazine had my submission for four months, which is a normal amount of time to hold one of my stories before saying no. I saw that rejection right before I went to bed, and it did put me in an off mood. Not bad, or angry, just off. Off in the sense that I don’t know what’s right anymore. The rejection didn’t stop me from falling asleep, or from getting up and getting back at it today. Yet, I wondered; who was the person who was up at 2:22am this morning? Did the rejection email have to go out at 2:22am? It couldn’t wait until the start of the work day? If this person was up at 2:22am, then that makes me think we have some things in common; we both like staying up late, and working into the wee hours. I salute you, this person who is most likely a volunteer reader or intern for the magazine. I hope you got some sleep, as I will be submitting to you again soon.

  • What We Can Learn from “THE IDOL”

    (SPOLIERS but really, does it matter…)

    First of all, I’m not here to pick apart this show. IF somehow you missed it, THE IDOL is a show on HBO with a five-episode run. The show is about the music industry in Los Angles, and stars The Weeknd (Abel Tesfaye) and Lilly-Rose Depp. If you do a search, you’ll find out that it’s not good. But, depending on how you view “bad” tv, you could either find it maddingly self-indulgent with a side of pointlessness, or an entertainingly hot mess of a dumpster fire. (I’m in the dumpster fire category.) I’m not here to bemoan the quality of the show as a whole, as there are many, and I mean MANY, other and much better TV critics who have taken this show to task.

    What I am here to single out and applauded is quite possibly the greatest demonstration of Third Act Narrative Exposition I have ever seen in all of my life. I will be SPOILING episode 5 of THE IDOL. You have been warned!

    To give you the set up – Jocelyn (Lilly-Rose Depp) has kicked Tedros (Abel Tesfaye) out of her home and life, all the while stealing his cast of singers. She then asks her manager Chaim (Hank Azaria) to “pay off” Tedros and “get rid of him.” Then the scene jumps ahead six weeks, and we are at So-Fi Stadium in Los Angeles during sound check for Jocelyn’s world tour which is about to kick off with Tedros cast of singers as the opening act. High up in the empty stands, Chaim is talking to Andrew (Eli Roth) a Live Nation executive, and Nikki (Jane Adams) a record label executive. It is the dialogue between these characters, and the effort put forth by these actors that (Chef’s Kiss) needs to be taught in screenwriting, and acting classes.

    First, the dialogue; it is a train wreck. See, as the narrative has jumped ahead six weeks, a lot has happened that the audience doesn’t know about. Well, don’t worry, Chaim, Andrew, and Nikki will tell us all about it. These three characters stand there and have a “Hey, remember what happened…” conversation, which is so clunky, unnatural sounding, and utilitarian, for it only has one function; to tell us what happened to Jocelyn and especially Tedros. The dialogue feels desperate to get the information to us, like the scene was born out of frustration because no one could come up with a better way to impart the narrative developments. Now, I say this should be taught because, as this show is a visual medium, it’s better to show rather than tell. What we are given are empty words that have no dramatic weight behind them, and the scene gotten through rather than enjoyed.

    But more importantly, the effort put forth by Azaria, Roth and Adams to make this amateurish dialogue seem natural and relevant is nothing short of Herculean. I can only imagine that when these actors were handed the script for this scene, that they had to have known. All three of these actors have impressive credits in productions with great directors and writers; they know what good writing is. But they did it – just went for it. “Damn the torpedoes! I’m committing to the line!” Honestly, I’m not surprised. These are three professional actors. They are getting paid to do a job, and they did their job. And that’s why every acting teacher in America needs to pull out this scene, make their students watch it, and then say to the students, “That is how you commit to a scene!”

    Yeah… THE IDOL is not good – I don’t think I’m breaking any ground here in saying that. But even in bad art, lessons can be learned, and entertainment can be gained. The scene starts at the 50:00 mark. You know, so you can queue it up for your enjoyment, or your class.

  • Retired Flash Fiction Story

    (This is an experiment of a flash fiction story that I decided to retire from submitting. Enjoy.)

    Airbag

    There was light, and then there was darkness. Maybe there was sound, but I think all I can remember hearing was the fear in my brain; As I was scared. Or was I screaming? Broken glass? I think so, and if that was true, then I don’t know how I didn’t get cut up. I hit my head, and banged up my back. There wasn’t any blood that you’d expect.

    What existed after, most likely before if only I had paid attention, was the feeling of floating, up and away – of relief that I was here and not in some other place, even though no rational person would want to be where I was, and that’s because they weren’t fully/completely aware of being alive in this reality, but now, or at least then – in the aftermath – I was present.

    When I was a child, growing up in the Cold War, knowing that at any second one of two nations could blow up the whole world; so many people lived in the pool of existential threat every day. Life could end at the push of a button, as that was modernity. But what I fixated on wasn’t necessarily that all life could end, but having to wait for it to end. Being told the missile was on the way, that in a matter of minutes I would be evaporated, but I had to wait for my impending death. That count down is what scared me. Sure, if you knew you had one day left, then you could get some stuff done. But with five minutes – I would just be left with my thoughts. My awful thoughts. Even if I tried to be constructive with my five minutes, I’d most likely use four of the minutes deciding what to do, and that last minute wouldn’t be enough time to accomplish it. But I know me, and I would spend five minutes kicking myself for all the things I didn’t do. Hating myself as the doom, the bomb, the endless end drew nearer. Not enjoying what I had, but regretting what was.

    The darkness did give way to the light once again. I opened my eyes. I looked around and made sure I was alive. On the side of a highway, having spun around, I was alive. Excitable, juiced, sweating yet cold. The Universe had expanded, only to contract back to the same place, and I was still there. The blue gray interstate, an airbag deflating – I had the acknowledgement of time.