Write for the Fight to Party

I get absolutely fucking stir-crazy when I'm writing. I dream this sensation will be alleviated one day when I can afford a nicer place to live. Till then, I work under the conditions I have to work under.

The archive of this blog's past five years is littered with entries about Dead Projects. Projects I busted my hump on that went nowhere. That stalled, fizzled. Open Writing Assignments that went off to other writers. It's one of the reasons I'm reluctant to offer specifics about projects I'm currently working on.

But today... fuck it.

My manager called Monday night.

I've been writing this new script called "Harrowgate", targeted at Dark Castle. My manager suggested putting it on hold while I focus on another potential paycheck.

I've been vying for this found-footage project at Paramount. Takes place in a hotel. I've been calling my take on the project "Menagerie". Other writers are actively campaigning for this gig so it would behoove me to finish this document as soon as possible. I gave my managers a rough draft of a treatment just over a week ago and thought it was DOA since they didn't get back to me immediately, but I got some feedback Monday. I'm stripping away some of the formal treatment aspects of document and refashioning it more like a short story. Which, in a way, is liberating. I miss writing prose. I'm not going to be in the room or on the phone pitching this one, so this document has got to stand on its own and be excellent. No pressure there.

Additionally, my managers are throwing my name in the sorting hat to write the new AMITYVILLE HORROR movie that Dimension is developing. Not a reboot but a sequel. And it's going to be done as another found-footage because they're so goddamn cheap to make. I love it. I'll do anything. What soul?

No updates offered on "Cadavers". I'm always afraid to ask for updates on specific projects. I just assume if there's any concrete news, they'll bring it up. What's the point in worrying over the things I have no control over?

So this week: HARROWGATE on hold while I knock out MENAGERIE and make it brilliant. I need this.

People keep tellin' me my check is on the way

It's Friday morning and I'm not scrambling to finish a script by nightfall. Made some final changes to CADAVERS and sent it to my peeps late last night (while drunk!) and so THAT FUCKING THING IS GONE OUT TO THE WORLD!

Weather's gorgeous. Warm and dry. BREAKING BAD comes back on Sunday so I've got something to live for again.

I need good things to start happening for me now. Or else I'm taking a lot of innocent people down with me...

Check out TUNE, a webcomic about an art school dropout who becomes an exhibit in an alien zoo. (Why didn't Luc Dimick write this?)

All the Pretty Ponies

Things. Are. Happening.

Not everything on time as they should be happening... but wheels are moving.

Some final little fixes on the CADAVERS script before it "goes out". Still waiting to hear about my last treatment revision of HARROWGATE.

And my manager emailed me last night about a new project. An open writing assignment, meaning there'd be other writers vying for the job. It's a "found footage" movie so you know it will be good. It would be set up at Paramount, which is my old home. I'll have to talk to my manager to get more information.

Wouldn't it be nice to get paid for one or more of these projects...? Preferably this year...?

Some extra reading for you today:

Letters for the year 2076 from the schoolkids of 1976.

How to Short Circuit Millions of Years of Evolution and Rewrite Genesis

Looks like we're just about there, Constant Readers. The producers read my last draft of CADAVERS over the weekend and really like it. A few typos to polish up and it looks like we're going to start sending this bad boy out. At long last.

What does this mean?

I... don't know.

The journey to attach some actors and a director. A fun ride... but I could really use a payday right about now. But the best way to get a payday would probably be to attach some other talent to the project first. Which means... MORE WAITING! YAY!

Well, let's make a begrudging attempt to look at the bright side for a moment, shall we?

If we can attach some hot actors and a really good director, that might get us some press/buzz, which would help us set it up at a good Studio/Production House. And then? The sky is the limit and the limit's the sky. (P.W.E.I.!)

Okay, Universe: you don't like me and I don't like you, but I really need this one to work, okay? So, let's put aside our differences and come together here.

[Special thanks to Alison Duncan for helping me with some med school questions I had early on. I hope you'll be able to overlook all my errors and the pseudo-science I manufactured for the story.]

Harrowgate Horrorshow

Friday, I turned in a new treatment draft for this new project I've been calling HARROWGATE. Producer deal for CADAVERS finally closed which means the new draft of that script is going to be read.

I've done (almost) all that I can do.

The sensation: relief. Great burdens lifted. As the new week descends, burdens will inevitably return. But for now, for this weekend... I am filled with peace and grace.

I feel *good* about the work that I've done.

I feel that I'm putting out work that I can stand by. It may not be perfect (yet) but it is some really interesting work. When your sense of worth is inextricably pinned to your work, it helps to believe in it sometimes. If only for moments.

The Armies of the Night Are Coming

The new draft is in. You usually aim to turn a draft in on a Friday so people can have the weekend to read it. Turning one in on a Sunday night is sort of pointless. But it made me feel better all the same.

Holy shit, that draft was a pain in the ass. I really knocked my head against the wall with it. Probably made it more difficult than it had to be. You're dealing with such a range of feedback. Simple corrections to be made. Clarifications of descriptions/motivations/logic. (These can be the biggest pain.) Reinvention of entire scenes and sequences. And once you've addressed the entire checklist of notes, you've got to comb through the script again to make sure the damn thing still functions as a story.

Oh, look at you getting bored as I prattle on about things you don't care about! Here's an old animated gif for you to enjoy:


There's nothing like turning in a script draft to lift your burdens. If only for a while. We take what we can get around these parts.

This week, anything goes. Ready or not, here I come, you can't hide.

Cryptogram Central

It was easier to write this blog when I knew that nobody read it.

Sunday was F-Day.

Went to the Central Park Zoo and had a picnic with some college friends and their growing broods. Then I had a whole hell of a lot of time to myself.

Didn't call my dad. So sue me. Ended up sending him a brief email in the late afternoon. I don't like talking to him when I don't have some good/promising news to share. He doesn't understand most of my career stuff anyway. Few people understand this peculiar relationship I've got with my old man. You might get it if you spent some time with him.

In any case, that guilt weighed on me. And then I was trying to refocus on pushing forth on this last draft of the script I've been working on.

And then there was ONE MORE THING I intended to do Sunday night...

... and I couldn't do it. I choked. I got lost in my head. I built it up too much and then I lost my spine as I tried to build it down.

I hate this.

There are times when I have complete confidence. And there are other times when I can't even look at the mirror. I have worked so hard to rebuild myself over the years. But some days it still feels like it's not good enough. I marvel at how cruel I can be toward myself. The inner monologue that motivates me to improve myself can twist into something that simply cuts me down. That's when I don't even want to be seen. Days I just want to slip on an invisibility cloak.

One day, I'll be better.

Hell on Earth

It's been offensively hot in the city. Thursday promises to break into the 90s again. It really puts a drag on things.

A project I worked on two years ago is back in the press. I was never officially signed onto the project: I was one of four writers being considered for the gig. But part of chasing after a gig is pitching the entirety of what you'd do with the story and I did a fair amount of work on this. Never got rejected, it just fizzled out. And now it's back out there, without a writer (publicly) attached.

I'm afraid to ask about it. I don't want to know about it if it's going to somebody else. I wince at the prospect of some of my original ideas getting woven into the project with someone else writing it. I've got other things I'm working on. Original properties. But it's like an ex declaring that she's newly single. Even if you've moved on, it stings.

More so in the heat.

Still, making steady progress on my draft this week. It could be better but I'm plugging away and I'm thankful that people aren't on my back screaming for it. Yet. I've gone through most of the little changes throughout and now I'm dealing with the two major scenes that I need to reinvent. This would be easier if the city weren't so goddamn hot.

Out of My Fucking Mind

Sometimes I have just got to take a moment to step back and marvel at how utterly stark raving mad I've made myself with these projects I'm slaving over.

It's not math. It's not science. It's an art. And sometimes if you just try to throw the sheer drudgery of hours at it, you end up at brick walls. I have been keeping despicable hours trying to get some of this done. I don't sleep through the night. I sleep in patches. Three hours here, four hours there. Filled with bad dreams. When you're this worn out, it's hard to see what's good anymore. This is just a stupid, disposable blog entry and I can barely string the words together in a coherent fashion. (Hopefully my animated GIF will distract you from my failure.)

I'm at the wheel and I'm half-asleep. I'm about to Chappaquiddick this thing.

Last night, had a dream that I joined a cult on Long Island because the rent was cheap.

Okay. End vent. My manager wants to talk to me today, we'll see how that goes.

Addressing the Notes

I'm close. Oh, so heartbreakingly close to the finish line.

I've got a flimsy page of notes to address for this script draft. Feedback from the producers.

A major pain-in-the-arse note can be addressed with one deft line. A change in wording, the addition of a sentence.

Occasionally, addressing a note may require the addition of an entire scene, or series of scenes.

Sometimes the note is more overarching and you're forced to comb through the script, making adjustments along the way to fully address the issue.

And even after you've finished checking off all the notes, all your fixes are up for second-guessing.

I've got to finish today. I want them to have the weekend to go through it.

I keep such dreadful hours during deadline weeks.

Taxing Day

Dealing with taxes is one of the biggest pains of adulthood. Made all the more worse when you just know you're going to get taken to the cleaners. It's like being forced to fill out paperwork for your own execution.

The accountant's got my papers and (I assume) he's filed for the proper extensions, so this is something I'm not going to deal with for a spell.

What's important now is focusing on this year's scores.

Endeavoring to crank out another draft of the CADAVERS script over the course of this week. The new notes involve some challenges but I know that I can crack them.

I am so close now.

I Kill Myself to Make Everybody Pay

Hello, detox week. I sure do miss drinking. Is it the weekend yet? No? How about now?

Why are you reading this endless stream of drivel? Every entry is simply a variation on "Malice has lost his mind".

Tuesday was productive enough. Signed a bunch of forms my old man wanted me to sign and send to him. Dropped all my tax shit off at the CPA, who will hopefully file the extensions so that I don't have to actually deal with it for a little while longer.

My managers haven't read the latest script draft yet, which buys me some time. The producer is assembling a list of potential directors which I'm sure will include a lot of unreasonable names. I feel a little calmer now that the draft is complete and it's in a good place (hopefully my reps agree).

Making some headway on the treatment for the New Project. I'll write more about it when I feel like it's on more solid ground. This week feels less tumultuous. I've got Wednesday and Thursday to simply focus on this treatment.

Less focus on all that was and all that could have been.

More focus on all that could be.

Show a Little Faith, There's Magic in the Night

Saturday night, turned in my second draft of CADAVERS. A full 20 pages lighter than the first draft. A rough week of writing. Glad to have it out of my hands for a spell while I refocused on this new project.

By Sunday night, the producer has already read the new draft. Loves it. Raves over it. Sends an extensive email detailing everything he adores. Very few suggestions for changes, not too difficult to implement.

Which... is nice.

I was hoping to have a little more of a break from it, though.

My managers still have to read it and have a chat with the producer, so that should hopefully at least buy me this week to work on this new project.

I just want my life to get a little better.

Fear

Fear of Missing Out.

It's early evening on a warm Saturday night in Manhattan.

I am alone in my Tomb where I have been for the better part of the past 24 hours. Trying to finish the second draft of a script so that I might possibly dare to send it out this evening.

My social life is in shambles. It seems that there are waves of time when I don't have any friends to go out with.

I don't have a fear that I'm missing out: I have knowledge that I'm missing out. I have a fear that I'm going to die alone and my body won't be discovered for weeks. Is there a cute acronym for that?

Okay. All right. Those are the negative thoughts.

The positive...

Just finished the second draft of this script. It's tighter. There's some cool new material in it. If we can get it off the ground and set it up at a decent studio, that will be great for my career. The sacrifices I've made to write this script (nights out that I've missed) will be paid for. There are far greater nights out ahead of me if I can just stay strong through these bleak hours.

Okay, I'm going a little mad, ha ha. Losing my mind to the isolation. Need to have a little more faith in the future. A little faith in all tomorrow's parties.

All the Knives Seem to Lacerate Your Brain

Who's gone completely mad?

(I have.)

Okay.

We're close.

Simple, feasible goals this week. And we are close.

The demons claw at the insides of my skull, but we will quiet them.

A second draft of a script bearing a structure that is not inordinately complicated. Light touches will speed it toward a polished finish. And then it's out of our hands for a little while.

There is a better future that is within my reach if I can just keep it together.

Hayride Revenge

I'm part of this screenwriting workshop at the Writers Guild. I went to a few meetings last year but didn't really commit to it. This year, I've been more consistent about attending and participating.

This past Monday night was my turn to get some feedback on my work. I brought in HAYRIDE.

There are three things I'm working on right now. CADAVERS, HARROWGATE (tentative) and HAYRIDE. HAYRIDE being the lowest priority in terms of urgency of delivery. My managers liked the first draft and gave me notes last year but I haven't really been able to devote much time to a second draft because of these other projects.

I was hoping to do at least a little cosmetic work on HAYRIDE before bringing it to the workshop, but I couldn't. So I was dreading the workshop a bit. My first time sharing work with The Group and I was bringing something with critical flaws that I knew about. At the same time, I've gotten used to people giving harsh feedback on my scripts. I was braced for it.

It shocked me how much everyone loved the script.

Most even confessed that horror wasn't their genre. They were just taken by the storytelling, the dialogue, the descriptions. These fellow WGAE vets, some of them teachers, all of them a little bit older... and I got them with a high school horror script.

"I was reading this and I was thinking, 'Whoa... this guy can seriously write.'"

"There are so many things in this script that I love, I could go on and on..."

I have never seen them respond so positively to a script. Their critical feedback was specific and helpful but I was wholly unprepared for how much every one of them was impressed with the material. Some of them thought it had sold already. In the entertainment business, it seems like everyone says they love your work, but it just feels like another level of validation coming from other screenwriters.

It reminded me of all the things I like in the script. And though it's my lowest priority, it motivates me to go back to it and finally get it off the ground.

HAYRIDE and CADAVERS. Two first drafts that I believe are pretty strong first drafts.

I realize that there's no one stopping me from advancing in my career except for me. The thought is simultaneously empowering and daunting. And the demons scream, "What are you waiting for??"

It is enviable what I have. I have a team of representatives working for me, ready to sell the living daylights out of what I give them. All I need to do is let them have it.

What's stopping me?

What am I afraid of?

This is the year. The world may end in 2012 but it begins in 2011.

Eternal Elsie

I'm not fond of having to juggle projects. Currently, three film projects I'm trying to get off the ground. Including one I don't even have a name for yet.

The most important one is called CADAVERS. I'm in the early stages of a 2nd draft. I'd call it my highest priority of the three because it's the furthest along and the closest to being "there". By "there", I mean that elusive point at which the script is strong enough for everyone involved to go batshit and scramble to get it made.

Alas, the nature of juggling projects being what it is, I've been focusing my efforts on the UNTITLED PROJECT for the past few days just to get it up to speed.

So, today's entry, I'll tell you about a character in CADAVERS. If only to keep it fresh in my head.

CADAVERS is loosely inspired by the Bodies Exhibit. ("What if those cadavers came to life one night...?") I won't go into story specifics except to say that my take on the story takes some cues from the classic Frankenstein narrative. What happens when men try to play God?

One of the cadaver characters in my movie is named Elsie. A little girl who finds herself brought back from death. Little to no recollection of her cause of death, she runs about the dark museum participating in chaos. She has a little cadaver puppy that she's adopted as a pet. In turn, there's an older, Amazonian cadaver woman named Sadie who has essentially adopted Elsie and spends her narrative chasing after Elsie, defending her against any perceived dangers.

I love Elsie. She's adorable and she never dies. Elsie is unkillable. As long as I'm in control of the world, at least.

Your Pain and Your Hunger

I used to dream about not having a day job.

Not waking up to an alarm clock every morning. Not dealing with dress codes. Not chasing after trains to get to work on time. Not having to call in sick when you feel too sick to get out of bed. Not training an eye on the clock to make sure you get back from your lunch hour.

I don't miss those things.

The trade-off, however, is the feast-or-famine freelancer lifestyle.

You get a score and you ride it out for as long as you can until you can get another score.

Still waiting on detailed feedback notes for the 1st draft of a script I turned in a few weeks ago. Hopefully, I'll get it sometime this week. Notes almost always suck... but you break them down and do your best to address them, one by one.

Waiting is the biggest pain-in-the-ass about screenwriting. When those notes come in, I've got to dive into this second draft and take it to the next level. My future hinges on my ability to accomplish this in a timely manner. I'm at that midpoint between feast and famine where I'm still all right but I'm beginning to be more cautious about every penny spent. I've got to ask myself, What don't I absolutely need in my life?

[As I was writing this entry, one of my managers called. There's a producer who's in NYC this week who wants to meet with me about another potential project. Could be something, could be nothing, but it's always encouraging to have more than one hope for a score.]

Everything's Cool

Is it January 20th already? We're twenty days into the new year? This one's just flying by, isn't it? With the exception of a few bumps along the way so far, I'm actually cautiously excited for all the promise of 2011.

This could change on a dime.

But for now, I'm still floating in the pool of blissful ignorance, not knowing how my latest script is being received by my team. Takes a while for all the people to read the script, to connect with each other to see what they think works and doesn't. Like arranging a book club meeting.

I'm glad it's out of my hair for a little bit. Glad to NOT be dealing with conference calls for the time being...

... and yet...

... already the little twitches of anxiety... the second-guessing... at a certain point, I'm going to need to know what the fuck's going on out West...

But for now...? We let things go.



Sometime you've got to make some sacrifices before the world opens up for you.

112 Pages

Finished the rough, rough draft in the early evening of the 12th.

112 pages. Pretty fucking kick-ass place to land for the rough, rough draft. The initial rough draft of my last script clocked in at 143 pages. My scripts tend to run long because there's sooo much fucking TALKING...

The thing about many horror scripts, they turn into a game of TEN LITTLE INDIANS. You set up a bunch of characters and you've got the length of the movie to get rid of them all. Or most of them.

Anyway, I'm rereading this one today and I realize there are a few key characters that I've forgotten to kill off. So I've got to do that. Because certain characters need to die before the end.

Should've had some drinks to celebrate the finished draft but I woke up sick as a dog Wednesday morn. I think this is the SECOND time I've been under the weather this cold season. Historically, I actually tend to stave off the colds pretty well, so... I must be dying.

Thursday: Gym? Massage. Spider-Man: Turn Off The Dark.

... and more work on this script...