Scriptwriter
— belated ho-ho-ho’s.
And hey: it’s 2010 and it’s been over a week since my last confession.
I haven’t forsaken you, but. I’m on holiday with my Goddess, and I’ve only recently sorted out things like the six five remotes that our very kind host has for his entertainment system, and how to actually use his broadband connection.
Normal transmission will resume in the next few days. Hope the season has treated you well —
— and happy new year from lovely Melbourne.
I should know better.
But no, I go and brag about Things I Have Done and how a sweet idea just fell in my lap – and now I find myself standing in a growing pile of recycled A4 sheets peppered with handwriting. These aren’t notes on just that one project but (counts titles) – holy moley:
And that’s not all. There’s more where those came from. I’m serious.
‘S nothing like the early-early-early days of development where the promise of the concept seems within easy reach and all those querulous voices in the back of your head are easily silenced with, She’ll be right.
I know.
I know.
I’ll choose one – the ‘sweet’ proj’, natch – to actually write. With another project as a fallback. And another to develop in between times.
INT. THEATRE – NIGHT
People mill about as stagehands begin cleaning up the theatre.
A FELLOW CREATIVE chats with a couple of straggling AUDIENCE MEMBERS – we overhear “It was... interesting” – before Fellow Creative joins our WRITER.
WRITER
(shakes hands with Fellow Creative)
Well done on your opening night.
FELLOW CREATIVE
Thank you.
WRITER
It was a good turn out.
FELLOW CREATIVE
Yes it was.
Beat. The Writer scans the posters on the stage. Fellow Creative looks at Writer.
FELLOW CREATIVE
... What did you think of the play?
WRITER
What did YOU think?
FELLOW CREATIVE
This –
(indicates the stage)
– this was just a trifle ’cause what I REALLY care about is –
Writer holds up his hand:
WRITER
Whoa there. Sorry to cut you off but --
(counts off a finger)
-- did you write it?
FELLOW CREATIVE
Yes.
WRITER
(counts off another finger)
Did you direct it?
FELLOW CREATIVE
... Yes.
ON FELLOW CREATIVE as their expression shows a swathe of emotions.
WRITER
(gentle)
Not everyone could’ve done what you’ve achieved tonight.
FELLOW CREATIVE
Nah, anyone could’ve –
WRITER
I don’t see anyone here but you, bucko.
(again with the finger-counting)
You had a dream – a vision. You wrote it up. You got some people involved because they were fired up by your vision and your passion. You directed it. You produced it. You put it out there. It may not have turned out the way you first dreamed it but you made it REAL.
(puts a hand on Fellow Creative’s shoulder)
This is your night. Enjoy it.
Then some background music SWELLED —
— and CREDITS floated upwards into the sky as —
— I headed for the exit – the DOOR opened by unseen hands as I approached it and —
— FADE OUT.
INT. DAY-JOB OFFICE – MORNING
Our WRITER is drafting a blog post about the state of his film and television watching when he looks up and --
-- Opposition Leader HON. PHIL GOFF walks through the door.
WRITER
(brightly)
Kia ora!
Phil stops and extends his hand to our Writer:
PHIL
Kia ora.
Writer stands and takes Phil’s hand in greeting but then WE GO TO SLO-MO FLASHES as --
-- Phil won’t let Writer’s hand go --
-- Writer notices that’s he’s being pulled towards Phil by the handshake --
-- Phil drops his head slightly --
-- Writer, hoping the increasing alarm on his face hasn’t shown in these microseconds, realises what’s happening and --
-- Writer drops his head slightly --
-- Phil and Writer hongi --
-- and REALTIME RESUMES as the greeting finishes.
WRITER
Welcome. But you’ve got the wrong ethnicity. I’m Samoan.
Without missing a beat:
PHIL
Ah ha – well, talofa lava.
-- and as suddenly as he arrived, Phil’s gone.
Not often one meets The Man Who. And gets to namedrop so.
Mr Goff is leader of the Labour Party.
And a hongi is a traditional Maori greeting done by pressing one’s nose to another’s.
This issue is small but punchy.
(Fedora-tip: Metro magazine.)
(Fedora-tip: Kung Fu Monkey.)
INT. ROOM – AFTERNOON
Our WRITER – wearing his script consultant hat* – sits with a writer/director who we shall call DIRECTOR.
They each have a copy of the Director’s SECOND DRAFT SCRIPT in front of them: the Writer’s copy has notes scrawled in the margins; the Director makes notes on her copy as they go along.
They are well into their session:
WRITER
– this exchange on page thirty between LoverBoy and LoverGirl doesn’t work for me. I can see that their dialogue is supposed to set up the coming confrontation as well as strengthen their love for each other but –
(turns back a few pages in his copy)
– you’ve established LoverGirl to be feisty and funny and sexy in two earlier scenes but on page thirty... she’s none of those.
DIRECTOR
Not even with ‘the thing’ thing?
WRITER
Especially with ‘the thing’ thing.
DIRECTOR
But I like ‘the thing’ thing.
WRITER
I like ‘the thing’ thing, too, but it’s out of character for LoverGirl. Either give a very good reason for her out-of-character moment –
Director scribbles on her draft.
WRITER
– or establish LoverGirl differently –
Director scribbles furiously to keep up.
WRITER
– or cut it.
(off Director)
D’you see what I’m getting at?
DIRECTOR
Yep.
WRITER
If you disagree, you need to say something.
DIRECTOR
You’re right. It’s out of character for her.
WRITER
So which will you do?
DIRECTOR
(looks at her notes)
I don’t know.
WRITER
Fair enough. Fix it.
He smiles to take the edge of his brusqueness. He looks at his draft:
WRITER
Now as for LoverBoy –
DIRECTOR
Is there ANYTHING you like about this draft?
It was at this point that I realised that I’d totally forgotten to kick off our session with a prayer an overview of the draft – I had selfishly ranted about a recent production that I’d seen.
I had forgotten that the session was not about me but about the writer and their work.
The Director’s question seems to echo off the walls as the Writer sits very still, mind racing.
WRITER
It’s certainly an improvement on the first draft. The story’s skeleton is good and sound. You’ve begun to flesh out your characters. You’ve reduced their dialogue but they’re saying a lot more now.
(beat)
There’s nothing I can say at this point that won’t have the whiff of trying to make nice.
(off Director)
Is there?
DIRECTOR
No.
WRITER
Sorry.
Time, I think, for a checklist.
* A Tui cap.
The Goddess and I watched Stephanie Daley last night and we’re still talking about it. So many layers, so many lines to read between, and so much to savour and consider.
It being a rainy afternoon, I’ve just finished watching Rambo and enjoyed it tremendously. Was I flashing on my teen years where I grew up with the first three instalments in the franchise?* Rather likely.
And I can’t help thinking: does my unalloyed enjoyment of Rambo make me a Bad Person? Or just Naughty? Time may tell.
* I laughed out loud when, asked about the intervening forty years between being drafted for the Vietnam War and his current situation in Thailand, Rambo says, It’s complicated.
In the vacuum left by the season finale of Mad Men, the Fortress Mamea inhabitants have been at a bit of a loose end. We enjoyed a fling with Better Off Ted, had our injections with Nurse Jackie, but they too have gone the way of Mad Men.
I’m at a similar place with my slate. Having reached my writing objectives for the year, I’m now trying to raise my film and TV viewing stats (59 finishes and 33 walk-/turn-offs to date, compared to 2008’s 94 and 19, respectively), as well as my reading stats (there’s a gaping hole from July to September that I don’t think I can make up for). I’ve completed Delta Force: Black Hawk Down (snore) and Close Combat: First to Fight (grin)* but… surely I could be doing something more useful?
We’re chortling through Glee. The Banana Boat writing group is ending the year with a bit of a bash. Only 24 sleeps until Avatar.
And after a few weeks of staring at my development file for the next project and not being inspired… I’ve just had a brilliant idea for my next project, totally out of the blue**.
Suh-weet.
* Not that you asked, but I’m currently chugging through Aliens vs Predators 2 and finding it rather tedious – I think I might join Monty and the boys in their North African campaign sooner rather than later.
** “Out of the blue”. What a crock. It was a fortuitous intersection of: people I know and want to work with; an achievable production budget; and a perfick location.
With the silly season upon us, the incidence of social functions increases astronomically and I find myself looking for new excuses not to go. End-of-year do’s are rife with traps like people you swore you’d run through with any handy pointed instrument the next time you saw them, or small talk that turns to the inevitable question of what one does for a living. The former situation, I can deal with; the latter situation, however, is a challenge:
If I had Mr Molloy‘s foresight, I’d merely refer them to a blog like his. But Indelible Freckles isn’t about disclosure – it’s about being confident and self-deprecating, witty and wise, and compulsively employable. Being the professional that I am, my posts are not written with the aid of alcohol or similar chemical stimulants… and year-end functions are thankfully lubricated with said stimulant/s, and my answers to those dread questions depend on my level of inebriation:
The more painful and unflinchingly honest answers are likely come as dawn approaches and the alcoholic buzz has given way to proxy Irish philosophising, or, in the words of Alan Moore, [I] am reduced to a blubbering wreck that just slumps in the armchair and whimpers about it has no talent whatsoever and will never write again.
And as a new day rises, and birdsong envelopes me… and The Dog whines at the door to be let in, and The Chickens squawk and complain to be let out of their coop… I can’t wait. I’m excited. I can see the finished product already —
— the only obstacle between me and a finished film/television/theatre project is me —
— and – no pressure, of course – I get cracking.
Greetings earthlings.
(Fedora tip: Jill Golick.)
(Fedora-tips: The Goddess and Gareth James, respectively.)
