Tuesday, February 05, 2008

Playing Catch Up: Part II of V

Gonna jump around a bit. No point in being all orderly with January; it was blurry anyhow so why not have some fun blogging, gasp, out of sequence.

Random notice-points for anyone who picked up on the fact that I've started using blog as a verb. Which shouldn't be out of the ordinary considering the amount of the English language that I've put through a meat grinder in my time.

But the word blog to me was always the page I wrote on. I posted. Like how one posts a letter. Hence the post office. This was my little cyber post office to all of you. And yet blog just got verbed. That's what a busy January will do to a man.

Back to why where here --- which, where am I then? Let's see, it's Tuesday. At least we're pretending it's Tuesday for the sake of keeping the blog mini-epic-series going. So on Super Tuesday...

Ciao. I'm at Ciao. And I'm enjoying a nice pepperoni pizza as only Ciao can make. And I'm post-blogging.

About celluloid. We talked about theater (and don't get your knickers twisted, we're coming back to it) and so I thought we should revisit an old love of mine: film.

As 2008 begins (and yes, I know, it's already February—Chinese New Year coming up, however, I think just screams for a fresh start) and I aim to get my writing skills up to snuff, I'm turning to screenplays for a time. Not forever, don't worry (Snowflake was gettin' all wonky and didn't know why), but so get back to writing visually again. And this is for a multitude of reasons.

I'm taking some time to adapt my play into a script. I'm stoked about it and am glad to see some time in my schedule to undertake the project (it's amazing how busy I still am when I have nothing to do anymore).

I have an affinity for both script forms, well all three: stage, screen, and film. A tagline Keaton suggested for my as of yet non-existent business cards. I'll have to remedy that this week.

Each medium has stories that exist only within that medium. Not that there aren't those that try to force themselves into worlds in which they do not belong. I like to think that I have enough smarts to keep them all in order and make sure the story works in this translated form.

And it will. "Separation Anxiety" as a film script will be different than the play, that's a given. Moments will be tweaked or moved. Arcs will shift. Slightly. Just... I want to tell the same story, only it'll be like hearing it from another source. Seeing it from another source.

It's funny. I think I'm a solid film writer—at least I will be in a few years once I start getting some scripts sold and filmed—and yet I've never seen myself as a terrific filmmaker. I wonder if that translates at all. Let's just say there's a reason I will be seeking out partnerships with people who can produce quality films.

So... as I sit here and recreate a memory to blog about, I think about the songs that always play while we're at Ciao. And they are so very fitting at times and usually fantastically easy on the ears (sometimes there almost too much Bono—but then I like U2, so whatever). They become like themesongs.

I won't get into the sweep theories again. It's just too much to take at this point. But I'll say that I've compiled a soundtrack or two for the show and it's that music that I will listen to and from there I will draw out a film.

Ever see "The 13th Warrior"? Love that film. Keaton got me hooked on it and I can watch it anytime and be immersed in another world for a time. And there a point where one character says to another (this is a poor man talking to a writer): "A man might be thought wealthy if someone were to draw the story of his deeds, that they may be remembered."

God I love that. The more and more I sit and think, the more I know that I will be remembered for being a writer. If someone were to draw the story of my deeds one day, I think that writing will be one of those drawn first.

But I sit this week and much like how I will need to just bear down and force myself to hit the gym if I'm ever going to reverse the effects of too much fast food and a desk-jockey way of life, I'm also going to have to sit down and force out the distractions and focus on the written word.

Random insertion... hearing your pal quote a line from your play (in the inflection of the actress, so really he's quoting her, but no worries) is frackin' awesome. And it just started warming up in here.

Back to the flashback of Tuesday. There has been so much time spent doing NOTHING resembling writing. This week, the mini-epic-series, is like my warm-up. Getting the juices flowing and the words churning. Brain's been either asleep or preoccupied with other things to the nth degree. I am reminded of another stellar moment in "The 13th Warrior" as they prepare for battle.

"Merciful Father, I have squandered my days with plans of many things. This was not among them. But at this moment, I beg only to live the next few minutes well. For all we ought to have thought, and have not thought; all we ought to have said, and have not said; all we ought to have done, and have not done; I pray thee God for forgiveness."

No, I'm not rushing off to fight the wendol, but writing is like a daily battle. Don't get me wrong. I love it. It's fun... it's a rush. Some days it's all I can think about and when I don't get a chance to put pen to paper, it kills me. Like a warrior without a battle.

I write because I think that's what I'm meant to do. Some people will be remembered for being soldiers and heroes. Others for being inovators of technology. Some are memoralized for the good they impart upon humanity and others we only hope to forget for the extreme opposite of reasons. What will they draw about me? It's really up to me to make sure now isn't it?

Squandering's done. I beg only to live the next few years well. For I have a feeling they're going to make all the difference.

1 comment:

Thanks for commenting on Thwarting Complacency.