I am going to take this opportunity to shamelessly promote a project that two of our staff memmbers are, and have been, a part of for the past few years - the Monterey County Film Commission's twelfth-annual Screenplay Competition.
Here's a little information about the contest.
Every year, the MCFC awards aspiring screenwriters a monetary grand prize and promotional opportunities for their winning feature-length screenplays.
The MCFC also gives an On-Location Award for the best screenplay with a Monterey County backdrop or written by a Monterey County local.
The Monterey Screenplay Competition was established to promote the art of screenwriting, and to encourage new screenwriters in the entertainment industry.
Since then, we've focused on maximizing our connections - creating the opportunity for screenwriters to gain access to powerful organizations that can really get a screenplay sold.
This year, the winners are getting even more cash than they have in the past, AND continued access to real connections!
This year's awards include $2,000 Grand Prize; $1,000 Runner-Up; $1,000 On Location Award. Winning screenplays will be announced in November. 2007.
In addition to increasing the monetary awards for this year's contest, the Monterey County Film Commission has partnered with Nestech Companies to offer winning screenwriters the opportunity to have their screenplays reviewed by a Monterey Peninsula-based film investor.
Submissions must be completed, feature-length screenplays between 90 and 120 pages.
The entry fee is $50 for all screenplays. They must be mailed and postmarked before June 30, 2007.
Competition co-chairpersons are also NorthernPros staff members Wendy A. Goldman and Ben Spencer.
The best (and really the only) way to submit your screenplay is by mail. If you have questions about the contest, visit their website ... www.filmmonterey.org. Here's the MCFC's address and contact info:
P.O. Box 111
Monterey CA
93942-0111
Tel ... (831) 646-0910
Email ... info@filmmonterey.org
Monday, May 21, 2007
Monday, May 14, 2007
Found Novel Notes, part two
As I finish reading the last words of a found novel and notes, I am reminded of the writing of those last words. How the fire burned in the fireplace. The intensity of emotion that passed as I realized there was no going back to it. The story was finished. Complete.
I am not feeling that way now. After having read the tale originally from the inside out, reading it as an outsider I am dissatisfied. The characters, though once magnetic and fiery now seem a bit dull. The inspiration, I think dwindles about one third of the way through…
I could go on, but I won’t. I should edit it, but will I?
Ultimately, it’s your decision what to do with any of your work that will determine what you do with old work when you innevitably return to it whether by intention or accident.
Some people literally put their writing in a safe box. Some people try to sell it for years without success. Some people simply write to write, without yearning for economic success because of it.
I answer the question by returning to the beginning of the novel. With a stiff cup of coffee in hand and a pen, I scratch words and ideas in the margins, cut entire scenes because in the end I know these scenes do not develop the characters or move the action forward.
I have become exceedingly accurate at doing this.
Each scene is cut to the essence. Soon enough, there is no filler. The story is an empty canoli shell. But this in my opinion is the best part, the sweet shell.
In my opinion when you leave someone enough space to breath their own ideas into the tale, their own interpretations of what a character should or should not have said or done, they will surely find the tale lodged in the problem solving cubicle of thinking where it will ruminate, take seed, grow further than it was ever intended to.
It depends largely on your intentions.
My intention is to make it a better story. It always is.
I am not feeling that way now. After having read the tale originally from the inside out, reading it as an outsider I am dissatisfied. The characters, though once magnetic and fiery now seem a bit dull. The inspiration, I think dwindles about one third of the way through…
I could go on, but I won’t. I should edit it, but will I?
Ultimately, it’s your decision what to do with any of your work that will determine what you do with old work when you innevitably return to it whether by intention or accident.
Some people literally put their writing in a safe box. Some people try to sell it for years without success. Some people simply write to write, without yearning for economic success because of it.
I answer the question by returning to the beginning of the novel. With a stiff cup of coffee in hand and a pen, I scratch words and ideas in the margins, cut entire scenes because in the end I know these scenes do not develop the characters or move the action forward.
I have become exceedingly accurate at doing this.
Each scene is cut to the essence. Soon enough, there is no filler. The story is an empty canoli shell. But this in my opinion is the best part, the sweet shell.
In my opinion when you leave someone enough space to breath their own ideas into the tale, their own interpretations of what a character should or should not have said or done, they will surely find the tale lodged in the problem solving cubicle of thinking where it will ruminate, take seed, grow further than it was ever intended to.
It depends largely on your intentions.
My intention is to make it a better story. It always is.
Found: First Novel Notes, part one
Recently, I was cleaning out a small room in the house so I might better utilize it for something other than storage of random art things and wine.
In doing so, I came across a box containing notes and magazine clippings and books and memorabilia I had collected. The theme of the items in the box was a novel, my first attempt at one at least.
Please note at this time: The novel was not also in the box.
But in a flash I was rewriting it. I could quite literally smell the room where it all begins, the confusion of characters as they wake.
I found myself waxing.
That might be what this is ... a waxing. A rebuffing of the terms of the novel, as I once understood them. To sit down with it again. To rework it, publish it.
The question is how . How do you return to a project ten years in the making and two fifths finished?
The box is a good place to start.
In this particular instance, I set myself up fairly well. When originally I was doing research for the novel, I collected enough fodder to get me started and keep me writing indefinitely.
There are character sketches and deep rooted paradigms that branch out as to be the sky's competition of breadth. I attempted to know my characters better than they knew themselves. I needed to know them in order to bring them to the scenes they were in.
Even now, the steps are evident. From obstacles to character goals and scenes. I lay the notes from the box in columns on the floor. I draw a line of tape down the back of a complex of scenes and hold it up. That scene literally gets taped to another, and another.
Soon there's a family tree of the story.
I could sit down right now and begin where I was. In theory.
It wouldn't be hard. But I decide the better route is to see if there's a manuscript laying around somewhere.
And I go back to cleaning the storage room.
- Benjamin Spencer
Executive Editor
In doing so, I came across a box containing notes and magazine clippings and books and memorabilia I had collected. The theme of the items in the box was a novel, my first attempt at one at least.
Please note at this time: The novel was not also in the box.
But in a flash I was rewriting it. I could quite literally smell the room where it all begins, the confusion of characters as they wake.
I found myself waxing.
That might be what this is ... a waxing. A rebuffing of the terms of the novel, as I once understood them. To sit down with it again. To rework it, publish it.
The question is how . How do you return to a project ten years in the making and two fifths finished?
The box is a good place to start.
In this particular instance, I set myself up fairly well. When originally I was doing research for the novel, I collected enough fodder to get me started and keep me writing indefinitely.
There are character sketches and deep rooted paradigms that branch out as to be the sky's competition of breadth. I attempted to know my characters better than they knew themselves. I needed to know them in order to bring them to the scenes they were in.
Even now, the steps are evident. From obstacles to character goals and scenes. I lay the notes from the box in columns on the floor. I draw a line of tape down the back of a complex of scenes and hold it up. That scene literally gets taped to another, and another.
Soon there's a family tree of the story.
I could sit down right now and begin where I was. In theory.
It wouldn't be hard. But I decide the better route is to see if there's a manuscript laying around somewhere.
And I go back to cleaning the storage room.
- Benjamin Spencer
Executive Editor
Monday, May 07, 2007
Taking the Lead
You pick up a newspaper. You buy a magazine. You open a new book. The first sentence, the first paragraph, these are the most important lines in any of the articles, the beginning of the story.
The question is how to write an incredible lead. How do you pen an opening that includes and dissolves the body of information being disseminated to its inevitable end?
The best leads own everything and divulge nothing. They include the total summation of the story but leave enough wiggle room to suggest this isn't all the data. They tease.
From there, assuming you've hooked the reader into continuing, you dissect each point that was made in the lead into the real story, the long story.
I like to think of the reader sitting across the table from me. The reader isn't reading, she's listening (what are words but a transferal of thought) to a summation of an incredible experience I had as a reporter in Chicago. I say something that creates more interest. When I'm finished with the cliffs notes version, she says, "tell me more."
This is the reaction you want to create with your lead. And it's as easy as telling it straight, and quick. Of course, it couldn't hurt, the language you use, the twists of fate.
Here are a couple of good first lines:
The first first line, from Don DeLillo, is the opening to a novel about Lee Harvey Oswald and the assassination of President John Kennedy. The second first line from Helen Fielding is about an obsessed modern everywoman.
In each instance you get an idea of the setting, the mental state of the character around whom the story is about to unfold. Granted, the selections above are from fictions, and a newsy intro would undoubtedly read another way. However, in order to make the point of capturing the reader in the very moment that is at the crux of the matter, it is of great import to verbally lead them there.
My suggestion: Visit a library or bookstore and open everything on the shelves. Read the first line. Read the first paragraph. Does it inspire you to keep reading? If so, why? If no, why not?
If you're having trouble writing your own lead for something, try grabbing every bit of information you can and cramming it into a sentence that funnels to a singularity. If possible refine the entire story to a word.
If you can do that, well, you can write the rest of it too.
The question is how to write an incredible lead. How do you pen an opening that includes and dissolves the body of information being disseminated to its inevitable end?
The best leads own everything and divulge nothing. They include the total summation of the story but leave enough wiggle room to suggest this isn't all the data. They tease.
From there, assuming you've hooked the reader into continuing, you dissect each point that was made in the lead into the real story, the long story.
I like to think of the reader sitting across the table from me. The reader isn't reading, she's listening (what are words but a transferal of thought) to a summation of an incredible experience I had as a reporter in Chicago. I say something that creates more interest. When I'm finished with the cliffs notes version, she says, "tell me more."
This is the reaction you want to create with your lead. And it's as easy as telling it straight, and quick. Of course, it couldn't hurt, the language you use, the twists of fate.
Here are a couple of good first lines:
This was the year he rode the subway to the ends of the city, two hundred miles of track.
Libra - Don DeLillo
Monday, 27 January 129 lbs. (total fat groove), boyfriends 1 (hurrah!), shags 3 (hurrah!), calories 2,100, calories used up by shags 600, so total calories 1,500 (exemplary).
Bridget Jones, The Edge of Reason - Helen Fielding
The first first line, from Don DeLillo, is the opening to a novel about Lee Harvey Oswald and the assassination of President John Kennedy. The second first line from Helen Fielding is about an obsessed modern everywoman.
In each instance you get an idea of the setting, the mental state of the character around whom the story is about to unfold. Granted, the selections above are from fictions, and a newsy intro would undoubtedly read another way. However, in order to make the point of capturing the reader in the very moment that is at the crux of the matter, it is of great import to verbally lead them there.
My suggestion: Visit a library or bookstore and open everything on the shelves. Read the first line. Read the first paragraph. Does it inspire you to keep reading? If so, why? If no, why not?
If you're having trouble writing your own lead for something, try grabbing every bit of information you can and cramming it into a sentence that funnels to a singularity. If possible refine the entire story to a word.
If you can do that, well, you can write the rest of it too.
Found: First Novel Notes, part one
Recently, I was cleaning out a small room in the house so I might better utilize it for something other than storage of random art things and wine.
In doing so, I came across a box containing notes and magazine clippings and books and memorabilia I had collected. The theme of the items in the box was a novel, my first attempt at one at least.
Please note at this time: The novel was not also in the box.
But in a flash I was rewriting it. I could quite literally smell the room where it all begins, the confusion of characters as they wake.
I found myself waxing.
That might be what this is … a waxing. A rebuffing of the terms of the novel, as I once understood them. To sit down with it again. To rework it, publish it.
The question is how. How do you return to a project ten years in the making and two fifths finished?
The box is a good place to start.
In this particular instance, I set myself up fairly well. When originally I was doing research for the novel, I collected enough fodder to get me started and keep me writing indefinitely.
There are character sketches and deep rooted paradigms that branch out as to be the sky’s competition of breadth. I attempted to know my characters better than they knew themselves. I needed to know them in order to bring them to the scenes they were in.
Even now, the steps are evident. From obstacles to character goals and scenes. I lay the notes from the box in columns on the floor. I draw a line of tape down the back of a complex of scenes and hold it up. That scene literally gets taped to another, and another.
Soon there’s a family-tree of the story.
I could sit down right now and begin where I was. In theory.
It wouldn’t be hard. But I decide the better route is to see if there’s a manuscript laying around somewhere.
And I go back to cleaning the storage room.
In doing so, I came across a box containing notes and magazine clippings and books and memorabilia I had collected. The theme of the items in the box was a novel, my first attempt at one at least.
Please note at this time: The novel was not also in the box.
But in a flash I was rewriting it. I could quite literally smell the room where it all begins, the confusion of characters as they wake.
I found myself waxing.
That might be what this is … a waxing. A rebuffing of the terms of the novel, as I once understood them. To sit down with it again. To rework it, publish it.
The question is how. How do you return to a project ten years in the making and two fifths finished?
The box is a good place to start.
In this particular instance, I set myself up fairly well. When originally I was doing research for the novel, I collected enough fodder to get me started and keep me writing indefinitely.
There are character sketches and deep rooted paradigms that branch out as to be the sky’s competition of breadth. I attempted to know my characters better than they knew themselves. I needed to know them in order to bring them to the scenes they were in.
Even now, the steps are evident. From obstacles to character goals and scenes. I lay the notes from the box in columns on the floor. I draw a line of tape down the back of a complex of scenes and hold it up. That scene literally gets taped to another, and another.
Soon there’s a family-tree of the story.
I could sit down right now and begin where I was. In theory.
It wouldn’t be hard. But I decide the better route is to see if there’s a manuscript laying around somewhere.
And I go back to cleaning the storage room.
Monday, April 16, 2007
Finding Poetry in the Everyday
What is poetry but wonderment? A convergence of displaced words that describe the understanding of a need for speech as a response to a stimulus that is all but discernable in its essence of meaning by a vocabulary determined centuries before the potential item of discernment manifested into a poem. Capiche?
Words always have been for playing, to me. Poetry is a reflection of a playful spirit. This to me is the essence of poetry’s big bang. Not the heady importance of what the poem could mean, but the experience of the poem, the language that (if we are attuned to imagination) defies and describes the very thing that captures our attention in the first place: sunlight; behavior; a pretty girl; a heckler in the crowd.
Poems can obviously be written about anything, in any style (verse, blank form, as an experiment using mathematics or shreds of newsprint). But what a poem embodies is the discovery of moment, that race of blood to the intellectual muscle when one experiences an idea, concern, joy, sympathy, curiosity.
What a poem is not is an uncaptured moment – whether kept private in one’s heart or publicized in words – it must be appreciated to be truly experienced.
How you come to that is simple. It involves two tools you already have: a direct relationship with the tangible world; and at least some level of awareness that this relationship with the tangible world is unique and limited in duration.
Once you are able to come to terms with this simple collaborative situation, you may begin to experience a bit of the wonderment that is so often blamed on the Muse.
But this isn’t an article about how-to write poems. This is a commentary on inspiration.
Inspiration, wonderment, being human are all very much intertwined and poetry is one very prevalent ornament of our existence here as a species on this planet. It is a testament to our collective ability to notice and manipulate our surroundings.
Being in tune to our surroundings is the key. Finding the poetic turns of phrase, light, and coincidence in your every day experience is the basis for all poetry. And like anything, the more you do it, the more you do it.
Poetry is habit forming. First you begin to notice things, then you want to apply words to those things (as a note or a journal entry) but the words aren’t quite right. You look in your thesaurus but those words aren’t right either, at least not the way they’re put together, so you come up with something on your own, something that says exactly what it is you are reflecting on in that moment.
This is poetry. Wonder on the page, or in your heart. So long as it is being experienced, somewhere, by someone, it will always be.
Words always have been for playing, to me. Poetry is a reflection of a playful spirit. This to me is the essence of poetry’s big bang. Not the heady importance of what the poem could mean, but the experience of the poem, the language that (if we are attuned to imagination) defies and describes the very thing that captures our attention in the first place: sunlight; behavior; a pretty girl; a heckler in the crowd.
Poems can obviously be written about anything, in any style (verse, blank form, as an experiment using mathematics or shreds of newsprint). But what a poem embodies is the discovery of moment, that race of blood to the intellectual muscle when one experiences an idea, concern, joy, sympathy, curiosity.
What a poem is not is an uncaptured moment – whether kept private in one’s heart or publicized in words – it must be appreciated to be truly experienced.
How you come to that is simple. It involves two tools you already have: a direct relationship with the tangible world; and at least some level of awareness that this relationship with the tangible world is unique and limited in duration.
Once you are able to come to terms with this simple collaborative situation, you may begin to experience a bit of the wonderment that is so often blamed on the Muse.
But this isn’t an article about how-to write poems. This is a commentary on inspiration.
Inspiration, wonderment, being human are all very much intertwined and poetry is one very prevalent ornament of our existence here as a species on this planet. It is a testament to our collective ability to notice and manipulate our surroundings.
Being in tune to our surroundings is the key. Finding the poetic turns of phrase, light, and coincidence in your every day experience is the basis for all poetry. And like anything, the more you do it, the more you do it.
Poetry is habit forming. First you begin to notice things, then you want to apply words to those things (as a note or a journal entry) but the words aren’t quite right. You look in your thesaurus but those words aren’t right either, at least not the way they’re put together, so you come up with something on your own, something that says exactly what it is you are reflecting on in that moment.
This is poetry. Wonder on the page, or in your heart. So long as it is being experienced, somewhere, by someone, it will always be.
4 a.m. + robusto con zucchero é poesia
“Because we cherish life, we cherish the poem as a life-sustaining force. Its strength is the strength of an object: a thing made, a thing present in the orders of our perception.”- Robert Kelly, A Controversy of Poets
When the amalgam of human poetics is ultimately accepted as a viable part of the evolution of our species, and thus honored on a Sunday afternoon with a brass band or twenty-gun salute (that would be ironic), it will be the poets of the time that attempt to bring forth a meaning of poetics with poetry.
There will be poets on the stage, poets in the field, and poets behind the scenes. I wager there will intellectual attempts to classify millennia of breath and language as art, while others will submit a historical discourse about individual poets and ‘schools' that changed the schema before the schema was ready for change.
This is the nature of our art, our Poetics. It is not difficult to see, the repetitive insistence of poetics as it advances culture, the importance of poetry in defining contemporary efficiencies and maladies in society with emotional and abstract forms.
What is difficult to see is the truth of poetry apriori. It is a sensation; something known even while it is tantalizingly out of reach.
In the moment, in the making of the line, in the capture of articles that define a wanton wandering expletive, there are signals of the poet moving forward and leaving his true time behind. Yet, there she remains on the page.
Later when the poem is published, regardless that it has been alive on the page for months and years, the reader experiences the rebirth of the poem. It recurs every time the poem is read - the truth of the poem is revealed.
The effect poetry has on humanity is in the very nature of what makes poetry so important to human culture. They are clues to a sensibility of the poet's surroundings, to the poet's language, to her need for explanation, and the urge of time at her back.
Poetry is a release and a capturing, a dichotomy in language and breath of the ferocious inner-point that is contemporary human experience in nature. It always will be.
That is why we honor it. That is why we repeat its terms when we write poems. We are obliged to. We need to. It has become a part of who ‘we' are as a species, to be creative in the ways we seek to express our selves.
Therefore, if I were to guess how they might honor poetry in the future, it would have to be a world-wide event; an interpretation of the importance of the nature of poetry to the existence and development of human kind. My suggestion:
A plum for everyone in attendance. That is to say delicious, so sweet and so cold .”
Monday, April 09, 2007
on National Poetry Month
We are now into April. The buds on the plants have blossomed; the bare trees are turning out leaves. The birds, the bees, the sun have risen into the sky. The soil, now rich with water sprouts of wild grasses is never more comfortable to lie in.
What better time to sit around and read poetry.
In 1996, the Academy of American Poets named April as National Poetry Month. Since then, multiple organizations have focused on the month as a festival of language.
In (most) every local community this month there are scores of potential meetings, readings, lectures, films, all dedicated to verse (and derivations thereof). There are also thousands of websites and Internet libraries dedicated to educating visitors about what poetry is and can be.
Some of my personal favorites include, but are not limited to … Poets.org, webdelsol.com, /tinfish/ …
At any rate, there are so many opportunities to explore poetry this month that I urge you to at least try reading one poem a day. It's not like a sit-up, or a walk through the park, but it is an occasion to feel the inspiration of a season.
In an effort to aid the cause, NorthernPros Creations and Cadillac Cicatrix are posting one poem per day with one image per day by New York City-based media don Joel Morrison during the month of April.
Look into Poetry whatever way you can. If so inspired, attempt to write a poem. If a poet, try writing one poem per day.
If you have a difficult time finding inspiration, look around you. Spring is here. Try looking at life through a leaf of grass.
Literally, I'm suggesting one book (in case you didn't see the segue coming), Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass , available everywhere books can be found.
To that we END with "Thoughts" from Whitman's epic ode to vie .
“Of public opinion,
Of a calm and cool fiat sooner or later, (how impassive! how certain
and final!)
Of the President with pale face asking secretly to himself, What will
the people say at last?
Of the frivolous Judge – of the corrupt Congressman, Governor,
Mayor – of such as these standing helpless and exposed,
Of the mumbling and screaming priest, (soon, soon deserted,)
Of the lessening year by year of venerableness, and of the dicta of
officers, statutes, pulpits, schools,
Of the rising forever taller and stronger and broader of the institutions
Of men and women, and of Self-esteem and Personality;
Of the true New World – of the Democracies resplendent en-masse,
Of the conformity of politics, armies, navies, to them,
Of the shining sun by them – of the inherent light, greater than the
rest,
Of the envelopment of all by them, and the effusion of all from them.”
- 1860 / 1881
What better time to sit around and read poetry.
In 1996, the Academy of American Poets named April as National Poetry Month. Since then, multiple organizations have focused on the month as a festival of language.
In (most) every local community this month there are scores of potential meetings, readings, lectures, films, all dedicated to verse (and derivations thereof). There are also thousands of websites and Internet libraries dedicated to educating visitors about what poetry is and can be.
Some of my personal favorites include, but are not limited to … Poets.org, webdelsol.com, /tinfish/ …
At any rate, there are so many opportunities to explore poetry this month that I urge you to at least try reading one poem a day. It's not like a sit-up, or a walk through the park, but it is an occasion to feel the inspiration of a season.
In an effort to aid the cause, NorthernPros Creations and Cadillac Cicatrix are posting one poem per day with one image per day by New York City-based media don Joel Morrison during the month of April.
Look into Poetry whatever way you can. If so inspired, attempt to write a poem. If a poet, try writing one poem per day.
If you have a difficult time finding inspiration, look around you. Spring is here. Try looking at life through a leaf of grass.
Literally, I'm suggesting one book (in case you didn't see the segue coming), Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass , available everywhere books can be found.
To that we END with "Thoughts" from Whitman's epic ode to vie .
“Of public opinion,
Of a calm and cool fiat sooner or later, (how impassive! how certain
and final!)
Of the President with pale face asking secretly to himself, What will
the people say at last?
Of the frivolous Judge – of the corrupt Congressman, Governor,
Mayor – of such as these standing helpless and exposed,
Of the mumbling and screaming priest, (soon, soon deserted,)
Of the lessening year by year of venerableness, and of the dicta of
officers, statutes, pulpits, schools,
Of the rising forever taller and stronger and broader of the institutions
Of men and women, and of Self-esteem and Personality;
Of the true New World – of the Democracies resplendent en-masse,
Of the conformity of politics, armies, navies, to them,
Of the shining sun by them – of the inherent light, greater than the
rest,
Of the envelopment of all by them, and the effusion of all from them.”
- 1860 / 1881
Monday, March 19, 2007
Finding Projects To Achieve Success
In 1987 the movie The Secret of My Success starring Michael J Fox hit theatres. The plot unfolds around a young mailroom clerk, Brantly, who mistakenly answers a telephone when he shouldn't, which leads him to proving his metal in a major company and eventually taking over the top seat and winning the woman.
This week's article isn't going to focus on the film. My point is to suggest that answering the telephone (or answering the call) to become involved in projects is sometimes the best way to achieve your goals.
In my own experience, I have achieved some success by going after what I want. But what happens when you hit a wall, or all the streets seem to be leading away from your desired destination?
The best thing to do is relax. Time and patience will always win over aggressive search and conquer missions (that often turn out badly) to achieve a goal you've been imagining is possible.
Much like when you are lost in the woods, the best thing to do is focus. Make a list of your expertise, your skills, etc. Take into account the various things you have experienced in your life. Is there anything you've done that could lend a hand in diversifying your skills and helping you to achieve a desired end?
For instance, a good friend of mine is an actor in New York City. He has been going to auditions for years. He's done some plays and tested for pilots and felt generally happy with his roles and also professionally "stuck" at times.
One day, after having auditioned for a part in a big production, he was again stymied by more experienced actors. However, after the audition, he overheard a stagehand telling another stagehand how to mix two cans of paint that shouldn't be mixed together.
My friend stepped around the corner to address the potential issues with mixing the two paints and he ended up with a job as a set designer. Now, it wasn't acting, but he was a part of the production. This led him to other jobs that in turn have led to other jobs.
Now, another example of adapting ones career is Dan Futterman, screenwriter of the movie Capote (2005).
Before Dan hit the big-time with Capote, he was primarily an actor ( Will & Grace, Sex In The City, Judging Amy ) of sometimes-small parts, including (but not limited to) "Second Punk" in The Fisher King .
In a recent interview with Creative Screenwriting Magazine, Futterman addresses his changeover to screenwriting. He says that the chance meeting of his future wife on the set of Homicide: Life on the Street was a catalyst to his eventual success with the screenplay.
As it turns out, he courted her with the idea he'd been kicking around for the screenplay. It was in the gestation stage, but ultimately Futterman was given the nomination for an Oscar for his screenplay about Truman Capote.
"In 1959, Truman Capote, a popular writer for The New Yorker, learns about the horrific and senseless murder of a family of four in Holcomb, Kansas. Inspired by the story material, Capote and his partner, Harper Lee, travel to the town to research for an article. However, as Capote digs deeper into the story, he is inspired to expand the project into what would be his greatest work, In Cold Blood ." (IMDb)
Much like Capote, Futterman, and others, one secret to success is often deviating from your current course. It can be difficult. It can be successful, but ultimately it's your decision as an artist on whether you are going to take a chance on another form.
In some cases, this is easy enough. Projects land in your lap and you dig in. At other times, you have to look for something to work on, a project to get attached to.
The key here is how deeply you dive into the water provided. And then, how well you swim.
This week's article isn't going to focus on the film. My point is to suggest that answering the telephone (or answering the call) to become involved in projects is sometimes the best way to achieve your goals.
In my own experience, I have achieved some success by going after what I want. But what happens when you hit a wall, or all the streets seem to be leading away from your desired destination?
The best thing to do is relax. Time and patience will always win over aggressive search and conquer missions (that often turn out badly) to achieve a goal you've been imagining is possible.
Much like when you are lost in the woods, the best thing to do is focus. Make a list of your expertise, your skills, etc. Take into account the various things you have experienced in your life. Is there anything you've done that could lend a hand in diversifying your skills and helping you to achieve a desired end?
For instance, a good friend of mine is an actor in New York City. He has been going to auditions for years. He's done some plays and tested for pilots and felt generally happy with his roles and also professionally "stuck" at times.
One day, after having auditioned for a part in a big production, he was again stymied by more experienced actors. However, after the audition, he overheard a stagehand telling another stagehand how to mix two cans of paint that shouldn't be mixed together.
My friend stepped around the corner to address the potential issues with mixing the two paints and he ended up with a job as a set designer. Now, it wasn't acting, but he was a part of the production. This led him to other jobs that in turn have led to other jobs.
Now, another example of adapting ones career is Dan Futterman, screenwriter of the movie Capote (2005).
Before Dan hit the big-time with Capote, he was primarily an actor ( Will & Grace, Sex In The City, Judging Amy ) of sometimes-small parts, including (but not limited to) "Second Punk" in The Fisher King .
In a recent interview with Creative Screenwriting Magazine, Futterman addresses his changeover to screenwriting. He says that the chance meeting of his future wife on the set of Homicide: Life on the Street was a catalyst to his eventual success with the screenplay.
As it turns out, he courted her with the idea he'd been kicking around for the screenplay. It was in the gestation stage, but ultimately Futterman was given the nomination for an Oscar for his screenplay about Truman Capote.
"In 1959, Truman Capote, a popular writer for The New Yorker, learns about the horrific and senseless murder of a family of four in Holcomb, Kansas. Inspired by the story material, Capote and his partner, Harper Lee, travel to the town to research for an article. However, as Capote digs deeper into the story, he is inspired to expand the project into what would be his greatest work, In Cold Blood ." (IMDb)
Much like Capote, Futterman, and others, one secret to success is often deviating from your current course. It can be difficult. It can be successful, but ultimately it's your decision as an artist on whether you are going to take a chance on another form.
In some cases, this is easy enough. Projects land in your lap and you dig in. At other times, you have to look for something to work on, a project to get attached to.
The key here is how deeply you dive into the water provided. And then, how well you swim.
CLMP + NorthernPros = Bright Future
NorthernPros begins this week on the heels of an announcement by The Council of Literary Magazines and Presses that NorthernPros and Cadillac Cicatrix have been accepted into the prestigious fold of independent literary journals worthy of the CLMP (i.e. Good Housekeeping) seal of approval.
“The Council of Literary Magazines and Presses serves one of the most active segments of American arts and culture: the independent publishers of exceptional fiction, poetry and prose.
“Literary magazines and presses accomplish the backstage work of American literature: discovering new writers; supporting mid-career writers; publishing the creative voices of communities underrepresented in the mainstream commercial culture; and preserving literature for future readers by keeping books in print.” www.[clmp].org
Being a part of this organization is a big step for NorthernPros Creations.
Taking a look back on a few very special moments in our history when we have been inspired to continue plodding along at a very satisfying and deliberate pace, I am humbled to realize that NorthernPros has maintained a budding importance in the lives of the writers and artists that we support.
(Some of you might recall the old days, when NP was a fledgling chapbook publisher in Upstate New York, promoting weekly poetry events in Boulder, Colorado, or a book restoration service in Iowa City, Iowa.)
Our mission statement has always been to feed good writing to hungry readers and to support writers and artists and organizations that seek or support a career or lifelong hobby in the arts.
Of course there are no roads worthy of traveling if the road is smooth and tame.
Learning what it takes to be an altruistic businessman has been a meditation on patience and an exercise in persistence (most times in lieu of financial success).
All that said, with this announcement by the CLMP, NorthernPros takes another deliberate step toward projects that nurture and encourage the community that feeds our spirit.
We are glad to be here. We are happy to help. Our work is only beginning.
Stay tuned, keep writing.
“The Council of Literary Magazines and Presses serves one of the most active segments of American arts and culture: the independent publishers of exceptional fiction, poetry and prose.
“Literary magazines and presses accomplish the backstage work of American literature: discovering new writers; supporting mid-career writers; publishing the creative voices of communities underrepresented in the mainstream commercial culture; and preserving literature for future readers by keeping books in print.” www.[clmp].org
Being a part of this organization is a big step for NorthernPros Creations.
Taking a look back on a few very special moments in our history when we have been inspired to continue plodding along at a very satisfying and deliberate pace, I am humbled to realize that NorthernPros has maintained a budding importance in the lives of the writers and artists that we support.
(Some of you might recall the old days, when NP was a fledgling chapbook publisher in Upstate New York, promoting weekly poetry events in Boulder, Colorado, or a book restoration service in Iowa City, Iowa.)
Our mission statement has always been to feed good writing to hungry readers and to support writers and artists and organizations that seek or support a career or lifelong hobby in the arts.
Of course there are no roads worthy of traveling if the road is smooth and tame.
Learning what it takes to be an altruistic businessman has been a meditation on patience and an exercise in persistence (most times in lieu of financial success).
All that said, with this announcement by the CLMP, NorthernPros takes another deliberate step toward projects that nurture and encourage the community that feeds our spirit.
We are glad to be here. We are happy to help. Our work is only beginning.
Stay tuned, keep writing.
Monday, March 05, 2007
The Art of Adaptation
If when I was in college studying the poetics of O’Hara, Plath, Creeley, Cummings, Olson, Kyger, Guest, Hughes, MacLow, adnauseum, you would not have been able to convince me that I would (at the age of 32) be spending more time making wine than writing poetry, I would have guffawed and probably written a poem about it.
Ah, youth. That inflexible persona of confidence now seems a bit immature, considering the adaptations I have made in my life so that I might be able to continue writing, and maintain some level of balance in my life.
Writing can develop into an obsessive process, for me. I know it can be that way for others too. Research and character/story development, series of poems or paintings – for glorious amounts of time you are invested in presenting certain qualities to the senses: words, images, three-dimensional structures, etc.
Then, when the project is finished, (if you’re like many artists who are “trying to make it”) you begin promoting your work, selling it (or trying to).
But what happens if you don’t sell it? What happens if it lands you in the big-time and ten years later the fame and money have begun to bore you? What happens if you are not interested in selling it, and you’re only interested in doing it? What do you?
You adapt. You make changes to your life so that you can either continue doing the work or you find a way to walk away from it.
I know some of you have seen the movie Sideways. The movie was based on a novel of the same name by Rex Pickett. Whether it is a great story or a mediocre movie, we will leave that discussion to the critics.
What I would like to address about Sideways is its theme of Adaptation.
What some of you may or may not know is that Rex Picket had been trying to sell his screenplays and story ideas in Hollywood for years, without success.
I have it on good authority that there was a breaking point for Pickett. After a meeting with a development executive who wasn’t interested in another of his projects, he was asked what he would do next. Whether Picket knew it or not, his answer to that question arrived in the form of a novel.
Unexpected as it might be for a screenwriter to write a novel, that’s what Pickett did. He got the unpublished novel in front of the right people. They loved it. They made the movie and the novel was published.
In other words, Pickett adapted. He changed his strategy and found a way into the big-time. Thus the name of the movie – sometimes in life you can’t always go forward, sometimes you have to go sideways.
Of course there are other ideas out there about what "Sideways" means. For example, in the book, there are references to “sideways” as a metaphor for being drunk.
I’m sure there are other interpretations as well. I am willing to adapt my personal beliefs about what sideways “means” if you are able to comprehend the matter as a variation on the theme of adaptation.
In my experience, adaptation has included learning how to cook, work construction, write and design newspaper copy and books, start businesses, design web sites, make wine, be friendly to strangers who are rude, clean up the trash the raccoons have dumped all over the yard, prune plum trees, restore classic cars, paint, in order to continue to write on a regular basis, whether I was trying to sell myself or not.
My life has given me a lot of fodder for my craft, indeed. But more importantly, learning to adapt to change has been about maintaining a balance between the necessities of reality and the pull of my dreams.
In the end it’s not about the success you may garner from the work that you do, but that you do good work. Keep doing good work.
Ah, youth. That inflexible persona of confidence now seems a bit immature, considering the adaptations I have made in my life so that I might be able to continue writing, and maintain some level of balance in my life.
Writing can develop into an obsessive process, for me. I know it can be that way for others too. Research and character/story development, series of poems or paintings – for glorious amounts of time you are invested in presenting certain qualities to the senses: words, images, three-dimensional structures, etc.
Then, when the project is finished, (if you’re like many artists who are “trying to make it”) you begin promoting your work, selling it (or trying to).
But what happens if you don’t sell it? What happens if it lands you in the big-time and ten years later the fame and money have begun to bore you? What happens if you are not interested in selling it, and you’re only interested in doing it? What do you?
You adapt. You make changes to your life so that you can either continue doing the work or you find a way to walk away from it.
I know some of you have seen the movie Sideways. The movie was based on a novel of the same name by Rex Pickett. Whether it is a great story or a mediocre movie, we will leave that discussion to the critics.
What I would like to address about Sideways is its theme of Adaptation.
What some of you may or may not know is that Rex Picket had been trying to sell his screenplays and story ideas in Hollywood for years, without success.
I have it on good authority that there was a breaking point for Pickett. After a meeting with a development executive who wasn’t interested in another of his projects, he was asked what he would do next. Whether Picket knew it or not, his answer to that question arrived in the form of a novel.
Unexpected as it might be for a screenwriter to write a novel, that’s what Pickett did. He got the unpublished novel in front of the right people. They loved it. They made the movie and the novel was published.
In other words, Pickett adapted. He changed his strategy and found a way into the big-time. Thus the name of the movie – sometimes in life you can’t always go forward, sometimes you have to go sideways.
Of course there are other ideas out there about what "Sideways" means. For example, in the book, there are references to “sideways” as a metaphor for being drunk.
I’m sure there are other interpretations as well. I am willing to adapt my personal beliefs about what sideways “means” if you are able to comprehend the matter as a variation on the theme of adaptation.
In my experience, adaptation has included learning how to cook, work construction, write and design newspaper copy and books, start businesses, design web sites, make wine, be friendly to strangers who are rude, clean up the trash the raccoons have dumped all over the yard, prune plum trees, restore classic cars, paint, in order to continue to write on a regular basis, whether I was trying to sell myself or not.
My life has given me a lot of fodder for my craft, indeed. But more importantly, learning to adapt to change has been about maintaining a balance between the necessities of reality and the pull of my dreams.
In the end it’s not about the success you may garner from the work that you do, but that you do good work. Keep doing good work.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)