The Horrors of Harrowgate Academy for Boys

Hello, Constant Readers. I am endeavoring to return to this. This oddly kept writing exercise to satisfy your morbid curiosity.

The new script clocks in at a whopping 78 pages. Yes, it's anorexic. That's a scant 12 pages from being a full-length feature film, for those keeping score. The producer's giving it a look-over now, so I'm expecting the feedback should help me take it past the 90 page mark. I'm just glad the main thrust of the story is out of my brain and on the page. The hardest part is getting it out. And then making it better... well, that's hard, too. None of it is particularly easy. I wish my first drafts could be perfect. Then it would be an easier case of, "On to the next one..."

Daylight savings happened on Sunday and I missed it. Oh, it's not that I forgot to set my clocks back -- I didn't have to set my clocks back. We've reached a technological point where ALL my clocks adjust themselves. Except the one on the microwave. If I'd glanced at that, I would have realized the gift of an extra hour. As it is, the transition happened without my knowledge or participation.

It's fucking November.

I have such mixed emotions about it being November right now.

67 pages.

Let's get this straight. 67 pages is NOT a full-length screenplay.

Oh sure, I have a few scenes left. Pad some of that dialogue and where will that land me? 75 pages?

This isn't a fucking animated movie, goddammit.

Jesus titty-fucking Christ.

It's Friday. I had a feeling this one was going to run short. It was heading in that direction weeks ago. I mean, there's plenty of room to flesh out and refine and build up along the way. It's just that the story's fucking short.

Okay, back up. Put my thing down, flip it and reverse it.

NOTE TO SELF: Finish up those final scenes. Go through the whole thing again from page 1, fixing and fleshing out as well as you can in one day.

Then. Perhaps as a sign of faith. Share it with the producer with a preface/disclaimer/explanation email cover. Then it becomes a discussion about what to focus on instead of just, "Where the hell is this script...??"

You can do this, Malice.

WTF AMC

Though he usually interviews comedians on his podcast, Marc Maron's interviewed MAD MEN's Jon Hamm and BREAKING BAD's Bryan Cranston for this week's WTF. The Hamm interview's up now and the Cranston interview is something you can look forward to on Thursday. I recommend.

Unrelated, last week I was getting some notes on a new script I started writing. One of the notes was: "Nick Gaffney... do you think he's necessary?"

What a loaded question.

Here's something the IRL Nick Gaffney forwarded me, for you to play with--animated gifs of 16-bit game title screens:

!!! Title Scream !!!

Requiem for the UWS

Thursday night, I took my magic Metrocard and treated myself to a late dinner on the Upper West Side. It was a cool, autumn evening that only made me more wistful for the times I lived on the UWS, near other friends who've since moved on to parts of Crooklyn. The cleaner streets, the quieter neighborhoods. I chose Artie's Deli, near the movie theater. Ordered the pastrami on rye, which was delightful. Made me miss that expensive little studio I lived in on my own, for four years. I loved that place. When I could afford it comfortably, it was some of the best years of my adult life.

This is starting to sound like a suicide note.

Finished what might be the final draft of a short story on Thursday. ("Menagerie".) Sent it to my managers. Fielded a conference call for the current script-in-progress "Harrowgate" in the afternoon. Altogether, it felt like a productive day. With this career, I feel like I've been living on prayers and faith. Something has got to pay off soon.

This has been a difficult September. I've worked hard and fought demons. These difficult times are when you really earn the path you've chosen.

Have a safe weekend, Constant Reader.

The Treason of Images

Wednesday was gym and laundry in the rain.

Found a dead mouse on the carpet in the living room. Looked like it was just sleeping. Not sure if the cat was responsible. The cat is an awful mouse-hunter. She pounces and lets go. Maybe this one just had a heart attack.

Working on the new script that I keep getting interrupted on. HARROWGATE. I'm supposed to touch base with the producer sometime on Friday, but that's not confirmed. I just need to fucking rip through this script. I can do this. I can crank this one out.

Supposed to see a screening of Soderbergh's CONTAGION Thursday night. It's at the DGA Theatre. A friend invited me. Don't know if it's a special screening with a Q&A or just a regular screening. I shouldn't go, I should stay home and write, but a free screening is the right price for me at the moment. My managers are supposed to call me sometime during the day -- hopefully well before showtime but you never know.

My brain is falling out. I need to maintain some manner of inner peace in order to move forward. To move beyond all today's worries.

It gets better. It gets better. It gets better.

Wake Me Up When September Ends

Went to visit my friend again in the ICU this mourn. They're set to transfer him to another room. Possibly another hospital with better resources to figure out what's malfunctioning inside his body. He's been in hospital for 5 days thus far and we're still waiting on answers. Feels like the Dark Ages. Is the modern state of medicine really still reduced to educated guesses...? Shots in the dark. And you're too late.

Keeping bizarre hours trying to revise writing and generate new material. Some of these may go on to be something larger. Some may die preemptively. But I cannot afford to piss away opportunities. It is goddamn September already. This is destroying me. I cannot let this destroy me.

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.

All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain.

Sometimes it's really difficult to sustain a career in the entertainment industry. The feast-stretches followed by these famine-stretches that really test your soul.

When I find myself in a famine-stretch, I think back on all the things I could have NOT done... savings that might have helped prolong the feast for a little while longer. And yet there are still so many things I didn't do. Trips I didn't take, places I didn't visit, with the understanding that everything that extended beyond the blurry line of necessity would be a luxury I couldn't afford in the long-run.

It's Friday. I won't get into it. As always, my fortune could change with a phone call so I'm trying to stay positive. August is going by far too quickly.

Trying to finish writing a new script called HARROWGATE. Trying to finish this faster than I have finished any script in recent years. (Or ever.) Other projects are still alive but HARROWGATE is what I have most control over right now and I will make it work.

Ridley Scott just signed a deal to direct another movie in the BLADE RUNNER universe. I recommend watching this documentary when you've got some time:

On the Edge of Blade Runner (Part 1 of 6 Parts on YOUTUBE)

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.

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 Way You Move is a Mystery

I've a meeting with a producer from Dark Castle on Friday, about this new project I've been developing. Any meeting that is not a conference call is a nice change of pace for me. I think I make a better impression in person. I've got all the crazy ink on me. And I don't think I *look* like the average Hollywood screenwriter.

I was at a bar last week and this woman approached me to get a closer look at my tattoos. I started telling her as little as possible about them and then she asked me where I was from. I thought it was one of those ethnicity questions but she clarified that it was my accent that she couldn't quite place. And it reminded me that I've got a very peculiar accent when I've had a few adult beverages. Some bastardization of British and Irish. It happens naturally and consistently, unconsciously. I don't know precisely where it comes from beyond a lifelong determination to not be the person that I am. Even my sober accent doesn't convey my predominantly New York upbringing.

I sometimes think it's a miracle that I have any friends.