slap the death out of it

Generally speaking, we haven't seen much of this lately.

We're entering into the final weekend of regular season play in baseball, and I'm starting to question why I like the sport to begin with. It's a fickle beast, comprised of over 150 games each season, where the beginning and middle of the season matter very little. It's almost as if they don't matter at all, which is just annoying, especially with a team like the Padres. They defied expectations this season to become the number one team in their division for almost the entire year... That is until a spell of bad games in late August cost them their comfortable lead. Ever since then, they've struggled to remain on top.

Now, they're not on top. They're in second place, with a very tiny (if any) chance of moving into the post-season. It just breaks my heart. I had to stop watching games because I just couldn't take either the crushing disappointment of a team's downfall, or the intense end-of-the-game victories the Pads are so well-known for.

Don't get me wrong, I love the team, and I wish them all the best, but this season has been a roller-coaster ride that I would have much rather not taken. I'm too obsessive and I tend to put too much stock in the success of others (to compensate for my own and more tragic failures). It's sad. I'm sad. And pathetic.

Other odds and ends:

Which

To

See?

- Three movies are opening in my area this week that are begging to be seen: The Social Network, Let Me In and Catfish. I've read the script for the first one (it's excellent, by the way), seen the original of the second one (also excellent), and am super curious about the last one (even though I know more than I probably should). I'm torn. I can't afford all three. And, I'm just impatient enough to not want to have to spread them out over three weeks, not to mention other films being released that interest me. I hate being poor. Decide for me. The Social Network is currently on top, seeing as how it's getting crazy good reviews. I think I can wait on Catfish on DVD. And Let Me In would be a hoot in theatres (and even better with a lady friend...).

- It's been blustery all day here. Can't say I hate it, because it's so wonderful to see San Diego suffer meteorological mood swings. Sunny and temperate does indeed get very old. Another plus? We had a double rainbow. Pictures to come.

- I stopped posting on Twitter. It was the right thing to do, honestly. I often felt like I was tweeting to a brick wall, where only occasionally people would respond to what I had to say. It was making me feel narcissistic and self-important, and I couldn't take it anymore. Going off Twitter has helped me focus my thoughts on other things, which is good. If I have an idea for a tweet, I'll write it down, or blog about it. I still use Facebook, but only to keep in touch, and share cool videos. That's the only thing Facebook should be for, honestly: looking at pictures of friends and keeping up with each other's lives. Not FarmVille or Betty White campaigns or anything else that bugs the crap out of me.

- Speaking of things I dislike, I'm officially avoiding the words "Epic" "Fail" and "Win", in all of their many Internet inspired usages. Hate 'em. I hate how they've made the English language lazier, and I wish they would be phased out of society. It's okay to hate words, right?

- Are you all watching Raising Hope? It's adorable. Tuesdays on Fox.

- Also, Cougar Town.... When did it get so awesome? I think I just found my new spec script.

The L-Word *UPDATE*

UPDATE, y'all...

The Powers That Be dug the poster, so it's a go. Too bad they also saddled me with photocopying it and handing it out. Psh. Responsibility.

And finally, shout-outs to Jessica Kendrick, Eric Anderson and Spencer Holt for the correct answer to the easiest trivia question imaginable for well-read people. The Scottish Play is my favorite Shakespeare play, so much so that I can only refer to it as The Scottish Play. You know, for obvious reasons.

And yes, I get that I just gave shout-outs to the only three people who have probably read this blog recently. Whatever.

See what loyalty gets you, kids?

Your name on the Internet, that's what.

Marsilea quadrifolia

Ten episodes in, and I have to ask: Am I the only one watching this show? It's on just before Mad Men, and I must say, I'm hooked. 

It's The Office, if Dunder-Mifflin were an intelligence think-tank, and if Jim Halpert were caught up in his own personal Three Days of the Condor. 

A lot of folks jumped into the show expecting something more along the lines of The Event (a conspiracy-laden thrill-ride with cliffhangers and the like), but like I inferred just moments ago, this show, at its core, is a workplace drama, one that deals with the everyday lives of people who traffic in top-secret information; the people privy to information most Americans would much rather not know about. Sure, there's a conspiracy to pull you in, week in and week out, but the heart of the show is the team of four analysts (all ably acted by some very fine people), who must decipher cryptic texts, translate chatter, and make heart-wrenching choices that involve words like "collateral damage" and "shock and awe."

I mention this show mostly because I watched the most recent episode and was completely riveted, but also as a suitable substitute for the loss of Lone Star. See, as much as I (often) mourn the loss of great television, it's important to not dwell on it too much, and look elsewhere for other well-crafted and original forms of entertainment. So, Lone Star fans, consider Rubicon your "elsewhere." 

Give it whirl the next time its in a marathon (starting from episode one is a must). It's worth the DVR space, I promise. It has the slow-burn pace that has made Mad Men both incredibly frustrating, and impossible not to watch, so basically, it's can't miss television.  

The L-Word

Today I learned that "canceled" has only one L. I don't quite know why I've been spelling it "cancelled" for so long, and no one, not even Chrome's nifty spell checker seems to think its wrong.

Well, today I also learned that I'm far more British than I realized, since "cancelled" is the preferred spelling of my neighbors over the country and across the pond (here is another example of how living in California makes my life difficult... I'd use less descriptives if I was an east coaster.)

The reason "cancelled" (how defiant!) is on the brain is cause Lone Star bit the dust. Inevitable, but whatever. It still sucks. The show was great, and it had loads of potential. What really sucked was while watching it last night, I realized half-way through the episode that no one besides myself and 3.2 million other individuals were enjoying this show, and that its fate was already a foregone conclusion.... So I tuned out, and played on my laptop for the rest of the hour. I kinda got the gist, but by no means was I fully invested. Sad.

My heart breaks for Kyle Killen, the creator of the show. Dude can't catch a break. His first feature film, The Beaver, has been shelved indefinitely thanks to its star, Mr. Mel Gibson's off-screen brouhaha, and now this... his critically-lauded show is the first one to get the axe.

I imagine he'll rise above, because he's clearly very talented. And quite fertile, it seems...

But, if Lone Star taught me anything, it's that I should never try to go against the grain. If the world demands NCIS, well then by golly, I better deliver a derivative knock-off of NCIS!

It also introduced me to Mumford & Sons, an alt-folk band from the UK. I highly recommend.



And yeah, I'm slow to hear new music. I guess once I finally get a hold of a song, the hipsters can then officially stop listening to it. ("Buzz-kill!" they cried, ironically...)

In other news, I made this for the upcoming Ward Halloween Party:

For a treat, enlarge it, and read the border. The person who tells me where it comes from
gets my respect, and maybe a shout-out on an obscure blog.

It's pretty amateur work, but I dig it. The inspiration stems from a number of places, including The Daily Prophet as seen in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, the back cover of The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, and a random wedding invite I saw months ago. I also had the old ads of the 1920s on the brain. 

But, I have to ask, is this inappropriate? Is it too busy? Too graphic? Too interesting for a church activity? Can any of you picture this on the hand-out table at the back of the chapel? Your input is important. I haven't turned it in to TPTB yet, so let me know soon. Seriously. 

Profit

Netflix sent this to me recently, mostly because I'd forgotten to update my queue with my preferred choice (which I'm usually pretty good at doing). I'd put this one on there years ago, and it had slowly made its way to the top, but I've been casting it aside for months now with new releases and other things that have caught my eye.

But after all that, there's a happy ending to this story: the show is actually pretty darn good. Like, it's Dexter good. Much like Dexter, the show's lead (Adrian Pasdar, seen most recently flying around like a doofus on one of TV's biggest disappointments of the last five years, Heroes) is an anti-hero; a corporate shark, ready and willing to manipulate any and all who stand in the way of his rise to success. He's unmatched in his abilities to make any negative situation work in his favor. Granted, most of that success is based on all-too-perfect (read: written) circumstances, and a series of fortunate coincidences, but when the main character is so compelling and sooooo bloody disturbing, it's hard to fret over those faults. You just can't help but watch with shock and awe.

But before we get down on Jim Profit, there is a layer of sympathy underneath the mask of deceit. I won't get into details, but let's just say the pilot's final image gave me chills.

The most tragic thing about Profit, however, was the fact that it never connected with audiences. Too dark and too disturbing were the war cries. Because of that, only nine episodes exist.



It's also important to note that this show was unbelievably ahead of its time. Nothing of this nature had ever been on television, let alone network television. It is often cited as the predecessor to shows like The Sopranos, Nip/Tuck, Mad Men, and the aforementioned Dexter. As of late, it's even been mentioned frequently in the same breath as Lone Star, another Fox show that's heading for the chopping block soon (if y'all don't start watching it, Mondays at 9).

It's worth a trip, if you're willing to put up with 1996 again. That's my only gripe. Network TV has come so far since 24, Alias and LOST made production values as breathtaking as the story, so it can be a bit grating to the senses (the music is 100% synth orchestra, and the fact that the show was filmed in Vancouver is all too obvious). But, give it a shot.

Last bit: Buffy and Angel fans should be aware that this was the show that put David Greenwalt on the map.

Furry

My nephew, already adorned in fuzzy fabric...

My nephew, as of late has been completely and utterly obsessed with two things: Finding Nemo and The Lion King.

Nemo, or Meemo as it's known around these parts, has faded into the background (thankfully). But it's only given rise to the latter film.

Without fail, he begs and begs and begs to watch the Guyguy Show (his words, guyguy meaning "cat"), each and every time he comes over, and we tend to oblige, if only to give us maybe a half-hour or so of peace*.

So, I find little coincidence in the fact that my friend, Tati, posted this gem on Facebook just last night. A cautionary film, no doubt, further evidence of the possible future consequences of my bad babysitting.



Who knew there was a Lion King Meetup each year at Anthrocon? I sure didn't. I was too busy picking my jaw up off the floor over the fact that Furries have a convention of their own. (!)(?)(*shrug*)

*Peace: a break from constant toddlerian badgering, quietly accompanied by the musical stylings of Sir Elton. 

LOST and gone forever

I know you're all probably sick of this, and considering I haven't blogged in almost two months, I guarantee an eye-roll or two will result from this post, but whatever. There's a reason it's my blog.

But, on the day of the final DVD release of LOST, both the sixth season set and the complete series set, I just want to say this, once and for all:

The way I see it, there are two ways you can look at LOST, now that it's all said and done:

1. There will never be another show like LOST, so cherish the experience, because you'll probably never see anything like it again.

OR

2. There will never be another show like LOST, so breathe easy, because you'll probably never see anything like it again.

Whichever camp you fall in, congratulations! You have an opinion!

So now please, PLEASE, stop constantly sharing it with the violent vigor of a suicide bomber. We. Get. It.

In conclusion, check out the DVDs. The Epilogue is worth the price alone, as it gives closure to quite a few mysteries, including one very big one. A definite must-watch for any and all fans (even those who "wasted six years of their lives").

Check it.

Gory Details

I finally saw The Monster Squad, a nice little gem from the 80s. I must say, considering it's 23 years old, it holds up quite nicely, thanks in part to some nice cinematography and some great make-up effects.

Also, I love a film that's not afraid to kill people to raise the stakes, especially a film that's geared towards 10 year old boys. What a rarity. Thank you for that, Shane Black.

My biggest gripe with the film had to be that I just couldn't get past the fact that Frankenstein (portrayed by theatre actor Tom Noonan) looks like the deformed twin brother of Michael Shannon.

I guess, in a sense, it helped me buy into Frankenstein's creepiness, since I find Michael Shannon to be quite unsettling to look at. Revolutionary Road, anyone? 

No? Didn't see it? Count your blessings, my friends. Why? Because it's long and tedious. And because no one should ever have to witness anyone self-abort their unborn child and then proceed to bleed to death. 

Oops. Spoiler alert. 

Ritalin

Charlie Bartlett (2007)...

It's as if the writer saw Rushmore and Harold & Maude back-to-back and thought:

"I'll just do that"

A thematic mess.

Do-over

The time has come for me to face the music, and live up to my promises. June, my previously stated goal month, just didn't work out. Too much happened.

So, July is my new June, the battleground for my fight against unfinished screenplays.

Wish me luck, if you want.

And for those playing at home, the subject of this month's Script Frenzy: Do-Over is: Science-fiction.

Gif'd

"Heeeeey..."

This is what I look like when you Skype me.

And I'm recreating that thing I do when I blink for a long period of time, in case you folks were a wonderin'.

N-joi.

Make Some F#*kin Pitches

No one reads this blog anymore.

So for those who do (and who can read lips)....

I Tumble For You

I got me a tumblr.

Wilder & Wilder

That'll be my short-form blog, with more random--and hopefully more frequent--posts.

struck sure quest eons

This little writing epiphany came to me not too long ago, and I thought it was cool enough to share. It deals with structure:

ACT I - You are unlearned and ignorant. In order to become a better being, you must become learned and wise.

ACT II - So, you go to school. At school, you learn many things. It is a new environment. You make new friends. The ignorance begins to fade. You are becoming learned. But, you're not quite there yet, for school is not a place of application. You must enter into...

ACT III - The Final Exam. Here you are tested to the max on EVERYTHING you learned at school. You must apply it, so that you can become not just learned, but wise, for wisdom stems from experience, not from books. 

The End.

Yeah, I know. I said I was a Four Act Man, and I still am. It's just easier to illustrate in three. 

I dunno. This may not be news to you, but I found it rather enlightening. To think of the third act as being an exam of sorts for all the things learned in the second act makes the second act's often ambiguous purpose all the more clear. We often say the second act is where we try the protagonist, and that's true, but I think most importantly, it's where he/she is taught. It's almost as if you can come up with three or four "questions" that need to be asked in Act III, and then come up with ways for them to all be taught, or addressed, in the second act. 

Okay, an example (From a real script I'm concocting):

Protagonist - A new mother, estranged from her husband, desperately seeking approval from an adopted mother she never got along with, as well as from her mysterious birth mother. She believes that in knowing who her real mother is, she'll be able to raise her children right. In the end (SPOILER ALERT, sorta), she learns the most important relationship to foster is the one she chose to be in, the one with her husband.

So, what could the questions be for her Act II?

1. What kind of man is her husband?

2. What kind of mother is her birth mother?

3. What kind of mother is her adopted mother?

4. What does it take to be a good mother?

etc. etc. 

All of these questions could be a sequence, a scene, a conversation or even just a moment. When you look at it that way, it practically writes itself, no? 

And the best part is, you can write as many questions as you want. I mean, don't get carried away or nothin', cause then it'll get long, and possibly not as interesting, but always be asking questions. And maybe you don't address them all in the script. Maybe all they do help you with better understanding the characters; doesn't that still make them valuable? What's important is to just know the questions that need to be asked, and then shuffle in the answers during your second act. Teach your protagonist well*. 

So, basically, what I'm saying is this: Be your protagonist's meanest high school English teacher. Teach 'em everything you think they need to know to do awesome in their final act. Don't surprise them with new questions about information they never learned (I'd say that's a bit "deus ex machina", which by the way is such a cool sounding phrase, that it's a bummer that it's practically a swear word in Screenwriting Land), because that's not fair. Give them just enough (or more than enough) to pass the test. 

And don't make it easy. While they may do wonders for your GPA, there's nothing entertaining about an easy A. 

So, what are y'all's thoughts? Expound! Contend! Detest! Whatever works. I wanna hear what you think...

*Their father's hell did slowly go by

I sent this message to a friend of mine on Facebook, and I put a lot of thought into it, so I'm sharing it here.  Why? I dunno. I figure it's good to express one's opinions on something so divisive, and since LOST is over forever, why not do one last hurrah.

And, please, in no way am I saying I "get it" better than you did, if you don't agree with my analysis. If anything, LOST is a personal experience, and while its fantastic to discuss in groups, the only thing that matters is how you feel.

Spoilers Ahead. Natch.

[My friend asked about the character's mortality]

Yes, they all died, but not necessarily within the timeframe of what we saw on the show. Ben and Hurley even had the exchange outside the church talking about their tenure as Island protectors, so they must have done more after Jack died. I think Kate, Sawyer, Richard, Miles, Lapidus, and maybe even Desmond all got home, safely, and lived out their lives, and then died.

The Sideways world was, as Christian said, a place where there was no "now", so its a place where time isn't an issue (think about the continuity of Sun getting shot, meeting up with car accident Locke. The timeline doesn't match. Sun was shot the day after the plane landed. Locke was hit a week after...). All of those folks died, but at different times. It's messy to think about, because our brains have a hard time processing the idea, but it makes sense, sorta.

All in all, I see the show as an allegory for life, and how life is simply a confusing, mysterious place that never quite makes a lot of sense. And then you die. And in death, a lot of things get unanswered, and there's a lot of unfinished business. So, in a sense, when the show died, so did the burning questions. Since this was Jack's story, as we learned, it was necessary to leave the show with the same understanding that Jack had when he died. He didn't know what he was saving, or why it was important, but he just knew he had to do it. And we as an audience need to accept that. (I'm still struggling with it, to be honest. I get it, but I still want more.)

Jacob brought them all to the Island to not only save it from the Man in Black, but to set in motion a world where they could find peace (the Sideways world). He knew, after centuries of discovery, that human beings can't let go. We cling to life desperately, so much so that we often bring about our own demise. Our selfish need to survive, so to speak. Why? Because we don't want to lose loved ones. We congregate in groups, forming civilizations, and for us, death means the end of that. So, he pushed the castaways to the moment in 1977, where they set off Jughead, to create that new ending. But, they had to all be there. Together. They had to do it together. Everything they ever did had to be together, or else they'd be lost. Think about Michael, chasing after Walt. He ran away from the group, and then became "lost". The Oceanic Six. They weren't living fulfilled lives, because they weren't together. They were still "lost." Going back to the Island meant being together again. It meant being found. I think that's what Jack was craving when he said they need to go back; not necessarily his "destiny," but more like the chance to be with these people that have meant so much to him. He's survived with them, and that's a special bond.

The best thing we can take away from our lives are the relationships we cultivate. The people we love. Even the enemies we fight against.

I think what's most fascinating about the show is that in the end, they made their own ending. The Sideways world was their creation, created from a single act of incredible faith and trust. As a group, as friends, they changed their destiny, and gave themselves a happily ever after. That wouldn't have been possible without the experiences they had, living together. The show, for me, was about working out one's salvation, and most importantly, not working it out alone. The castaways were alone, miserable, and destined for failure. The plane crash changed that, and gave them new hope, in the form of friends and lovers. From there, they fought to protect one another, to survive as a group, and yes, there were casualties, but it made them stronger. Each season, the castaways would split up, chaos would ensue, and by the end, they'd be back together. Jacob knew that they HAD to be together.

Live together, die alone, right?

There's my ramblings. I didn't sleep much last night, because I kept thinking about the show. Insane stuff. I think I get what they were saying. I think they could have been more careful about filling the show with too much mystery, but that could have been by design. They knew folks would hate it, because it doesn't at all answer much of anything. But again, I think that's the point. We as the audience experienced the passing of LOST, and with it, all of the answers it supposedly held. As Damon wrote on his Twitter "Remember. Let go. Move on." It's a bold creative statement to say, but I like that they went there. They knew it would get people mad, but isn't that what LOST has been doing for six seasons?

So in that respect, it was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Nerd Boyfriend

I'm trying something different today. Why? For kicks. Also, cause I want an excuse to write something short, sweet, and concise daily without it pertaining to film or pop culture. So, website reviews. Specifically, websites I've never heard of or been to before.

Why website reviews? Cause I just decided it. Get used to it.  And with the plethora of random junk on the Internet, I figured why not highlight the stuff that's just kinda cool?

This won't be a regular thing. I'm not that invested in this idea.

Enjoi.

NERD BOYFRIEND

LINK ME:
www.nerdboyfriend.com

DESCRIBE ME:
I suppose the title of this site stems from the notion that when it comes to fashion, nerds tend to emulate rather than innovate. It's these same folk that get a kick out of dressing like E.T. era Spielberg



or Harold Ramis in Stripes.



Consider this blog/site the source for all of your nerd boyfriend’s requests to dress like famous “nerds”, while still maintaining some sense of fashion.
Here are some notable ones:

Rowan Atkinson
Akira Kurosawa
Señor Chang (NBC’s Community)

SUMMARIZE ME:
A fantastic resource. Each entry has a well-researched selection of look-alike pieces to help create the look. It’s like any issue of GQ, except the pictures reflect a more relaxed, everyday demeanor, as opposed to the posed, and almost TOO fashionable celebs featured therein.

swamp eagle

I'm pretty sure I could listen to this song for a frighteningly long period of time, and not get sick of it.

(song starts at about 1 minute in...)



This is from the DVD of the 2007 Broadway revival of Stephen Sondheim's Company, in case you're curious. The man singing is Raúl Esparza, who you may know from his small stint on Pushing Daisies. That voice... Man alive....

And yes, he is playing the piano. All the cast members also play an instrument in the orchestra. It's a bizarre choice, but pretty cool nonetheless...

send 'em on in...

For those of you wondering what show I was referring to when I said "spec episode," here's a HUGE hint:

scripty larue part too

These are some conclusions I've drawn since messing around with Script Frenzy...


Slow Moves, Ellie

A little bit at a time goes a long way to aid in my sanity. I used to be a marathon writer, going on and on for as long as I could; but what that led to was me getting burned out and/or complacent. I was either convinced I'd had enough, or that I'd done enough. Write everyday, but make sure to not write MORE than you need to. Does that make sense? Spread out the fun, day by day, hour by hour, or however else you manage your writing. It's like any good serialized TV show: while we crave answers to throbbing mysteries, we actually wouldn't tune in if you gave them away. Keep the script alive by purposefully leaving something cool to write till the next time you write. If you've done a good days work of writing, but you still want to pound out that action scene because it's just too much fun, hold off. Get pumped about it as you go about your day, and then come back to it tomorrow. You'll have a whole day in between writing sessions, which will no doubt inject your sequence with more ideas.

Four Act Man

I'm writing in Four Acts now. It's official. I've been a bit skeptical about the idea, because it seemed to go against so much of the current wisdom floating around the Film/TV bookshelf at Barnes & Noble, but it makes so much sense. The midpoint of a film is a crucial turning point. It's where the world begins to shift. It's the entrance of the point of no return for our characters. It's a SUPER important moment. So, why is it treated as simply a "step" in the middle of the second act? It's not a simple story beat: it's an Act Changer. I think when you make the last half of your second act into an act on its own, it adds more weight to it... You view it differently.

Why the switch? Because of this blog post at Rage Against The Page, and also because of this article, written by the creator of NBC's Community Dan Harmon, a man who has many times ruffled his fair share of feathers in the studio system (namely those of Jeffrey Katzenberg, and apparently Lord Spielberg himself), but always over how they approach story in their animated endeavors. His approach is simple, and absolutely amazing. Here's how he breaks down thousands of pages of Hero's Journey-esque screenwriting books. Eight elements. One word each...

YOU
NEED
GO
SEARCH
FIND
TAKE
RETURN
CHANGE

I'll let Dan himself explain each one (Note: The context of this quote stems from his site Channel 101's quest for new 5 minute pilots. So references to 37 seconds and other time frames should be generally ignored. Unless you're looking to write a five minute pilot):

As I've said, the easiest way to visualize these steps is by drawing a circle, dividing it into 4 equal pieces, and writing numbers around it clockwise, with (1) and (5) at the north and south "poles" of the circle, (3) and (7) at the east and west poles.

1) "You" - who are we? A squirrel? The sun? A red blood cell? America? By the end of the first 37 seconds, we'd really like to know.

2) "Need" - something is wrong, the world is out of balance. This is the reason why a story is going to take place. The "you" from (1) is an alcoholic. There's a dead body on the floor. A motorcycle gang rolls into town. Campbell phrases: Call to Adventure, Refusal of the Call, Supernatural Aid.

3) "Go" - For (1) and (2), the "you" was in a certain situation, and now that situation changes. A hiker heads into the woods. Pearl Harbor's been bombed. A mafia boss enters therapy. Campbell phrase: Crossing of the Threshold. Syd Field phrase: Plot Point 1.

4) "Search" - adapting, experimenting, getting shit together, being broken down. A detective questions suspects. A cowboy gathers his posse. A cheerleader takes a nerd shopping. Campbell phrases: Belly of the Whale, Road of Trials. Christopher Vogler phrase: Friends, Enemies and Allies.

5) "Find" - whether it was the direct, conscious goal or not, the "need" from (2) is fulfilled. We found the princess. The suspect gives the location of the meth lab. A nerd achieves popularity. Campbell phrase: Meeting with the Goddess. Syd Field phrase: mid-point. Vogler phrase: Approach to the Innermost Cave.

6) "Take" - The hardest part (both for the characters and for anyone trying to describe it). On one hand, the price of the journey. The shark eats the boat. Jesus is crucified. The nice old man has a stroke. On the other hand, a goal achieved that we never even knew we had. The shark now has an oxygen tank in his mouth. Jesus is dead- oh, I get it, flesh doesn't matter. The nice old man had a stroke, but before he died, he wanted you to take this belt buckle. Now go win that rodeo. Campbell phrases: Atonement with the Father, Death and Resurrection, Apotheosis. Syd Field phrase: plot point 2

7) "Return" - It's not a journey if you never come back. The car chase. The big rescue. Coming home to your girlfriend with a rose. Leaping off the roof as the skyscraper explodes. Campbell phrases: Magic Flight, Rescue from Without, Crossing of the Return Threshold.

8) "Change" - The "you" from (1) is in charge of their situation again, but has now become a situation-changer. Life will never be the same. The Death Star is blown up. The couple is in love. Dr. Bloom's Time Belt is completed. Lorraine Bracco heads into the jungle with Sean Connery to "find some of those ants." Campbell phrases: Master of Both Worlds, Freedom to Live.

I've taken this to heart, and applied it to everything I conceptualize, in order to see the story broken down into the most basic of parts. EVERY story follows this pattern, believe it or not, so it's an incredibly effective means to simplify a story.

AND, the best part is, it fits so nicely into the Four Act Structure:

(This one goes counter-clockwise, I know. The man who created it is Australian, so...)

It's just a better way to handle things, I think, when you're dealing with four equal parts. With three acts, the second act always seemed to daunting, plagued by sooooo many story beats, and so much change. Yet here, it's clear what needs to happen in each act, and how that leads to the mighty change of heart. It just makes sense to me, more than three acts ever did. And yet, I went YEARS sucking from the teet of the three-act gurus, believing Aristotle to be a dramatic genius*, tapping into the very fabric of story, and exposing its thread count. I knew some folks subscribed to the four-act way of life, but I just couldn't get into it. But, after struggling through countless second acts, I finally see just how beneficial it is to add a fourth act, and to cut that bloody Act Two into two separate and juicy pieces.

In conclusion, I'm as pleased as punch to have figured this one out for good. It's liberating. Read Rage Against The Page's article, and also Dan's article (links above). They may just change your [screenwriting] life.

*Dramatic effect, people. I hope that's clear. Aristotle WAS a genius. A mighty, mighty genius.

Scripty LaRue

Ah, Script Frenzy. My own personal Moriarity. Some day, I will defeat you. But not this day...

I've chosen not to talk about the unmitigated disaster that was this years Script Frenzy up till now, because it was indeed a disaster. My initial script failed to take off like I'd hoped, and the thought of finishing it to the end made me sick with boredom, so I pulled out an old idea, and got crackin'. I did well, and I was excited with the prospect, but then reality set in, and I realized I needed to be focusing my time on my spec episode. So, I wrote that instead, but even in the middle of that, nagging story issues and a premise that just wasn't holding water led me to the very exciting (but depressing at the time) conclusion that I needed to start anew. So I did, and right now, I'm on the path to full recovery. But, not before the end of April. Sad face indeed.

100 pages is a fantastic goal for one month, and very doable. I don't doubt that. I think I'll just have to dub June my own personal Script Frenzy, so that I can get something finished.

As for next year, I suspect I'll tackle it as such: preparation. Script Frenzy seems to put the emphasis on "just write something!", and while that's fun and all, it's not conducive to even first draft quality writing for me. I'm a perfectionist, even at the earliest stages, so if I'm forced to continue on with a terrible story, just for the sake of a fake writing contest, I'm going to go crazy, first draft or not. So, it has been decided by me, and myself, that come next year, I will prepare more earnestly beforehand to establish a feature-length idea that is not only interesting for 100 pages, but also fully-formed in my head, and more importantly, on paper.

Thus it has been decreed, and so shall it be.