The little voice

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You know how it is. You work, and work, and work some more.
But since there’s always more that needs to be done, you feel you’ve accomplished nothing.

I have a habit of looking forward at the huge list of things I want to write, which currently numbers about fifteen storylines.

I feel so sorry for the poor little things, sitting on the back burner, waiting their turn. Waiting for me.

And that doesn’t take into account the twelve or so picture books, some of which are practically written.

Or that oh-so-brilliant idea I had to turn every screenplay I write into a novel and every novel into a screenplay. (Nothing like doubling your own work!)

Is it any wonder I feel I never get anything done?

Then the other day, when I realized that nearly three and a half years has passed since I obtained my MFA, I nearly freaked. How could I let so much time zip by without accomplishing anything?

At first I tried to console myself by remembering that during that time we sold our house, moved to an apartment, bought another house, and moved in. Buying, selling, and moving houses is rather time consuming. I should cut myself some slack. Maybe I have been a little lazy-

“You idiot!” A little voice called out.

I was offended. How dare that little voice speak to me like that. Why, I had half a mind to-

“Stop all that inner babble and listen,” the voice continued. “In those three and a half years you rewrote and published a novel, wrote and published two picture books, adapted three of your novels into scripts, wrote three original feature-length screenplays, and wrote the first draft of an entirely new novel. Does that sound like laziness to you?”

That silenced the inner babble. I turned to the little voice to thank it, but there was nothing there. The voice had come from inside my own head. From the logical part of me that can stand back and look at the big picture.

“Thank you!” I whispered. But I got no response.

The logical little voice is obviously the quiet type.

The vote – sad, mad, and confused

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Okay, I’ll admit it. I was sad, mad, and confused.

We had the movie making class last night. Four scripts were up for the vote. Two by the instructor and the other two by students.

Being the good little student that I am I took the time to carefully read all four scripts. I thought mine held up reasonably well, so I was confident that even if my script wasn’t chosen, it at least would not be delegated to last place.

As soon as the instructor started class it became apparent that few people had read the scripts. So each was read out loud. I was ecstatic when I heard laughter in the right places.

After they were read, slips of paper were passed around and everyone wrote out their vote. The instructor and one of the students left the room to count the votes.

They returned with the news that there was a three-way tie. We needed to revote to break the tie between every script-but mine.

I was horrified! I had worked so hard on that script, yet it was so bad that it had been the only one knocked out by the first vote.

It took three more votes to choose a script. The instructor announced that the chosen script would need a major rewrite.

Five different people in the class turned to me and suggested that I help with the rewrite. I declined politely, but was surprised when my inner dialogue used words that don’t normally come out of my mouth. (Funny, that was a theme in the chosen script.)

‘Nuff said about that.

On the way home I tried to concentrate on driving and pushed the whole script thing out of my head. So I was almost home before I ran the numbers.

The instructor said he was leaving it up to us, so that left twelve students to vote on four scripts.

I voted for my own script in that first round, so I know it got at least one vote. But eleven cannot be divided by three equally, so there could be no three-way tie.

If my script got two votes, that leaves ten. Ten cannot be divided by three equally, so again no three-way tie.

If my script got three votes that leaves nine. Nine divided by three is three, so there would be a four-way tie.

So the vote was rigged. My guess is that the instructor wanted to make that particular short. Which is fine, since he is the instructor.

I just wish he hadn’t had to break my heart in the process.

Welcome to the GFP club

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Now I know what the ‘Glutton For Punishment’ club is all about.

I’m taking a class on movie-making. I don’t particularly want to make movies myself, but I do want to know what goes on behind-the-scenes.  The more I know, the better my screenwriting will become.

Besides, it looks like a fun class.

We had the first class Saturday, and were told that during the next class we’ll vote on which script we’ll use.

Anyone in the class can write a script to put up for the vote. So, with my newfound entry into the GFP (glutton for punishment) club, I decided to give it a try.

The guidelines:
7-10 pages in length
Primarily interior scenes
Can be shot in very specific locations
Can be shot in a very restricted timeframe
Must include parts for 4 women and 5 men
Must be flexible enough that 1 more woman and 3 more men can be actors if they wish
All props and costumes must be easy to come by
Must be submitted to the instructor by Wednesday at midnight

Sunday we had a family get-together, so it was night before I could think through a few plot ideas. Monday morning I sat down to write. As soon as I had defined the personalities of my characters I felt much better about the whole thing.

I had no idea I’d spend the next seven hours writing. I don’t know what got into me.
I couldn’t stop!
I was driven to finish the script.

The only real break I took was to walk the dog. It seems that puppy-dog eyes trump writing mania.

I was so exhausted by the end of it that my body tingled all over and my brain shut down. If anyone would have asked me what 2 + 2 was, I wouldn’t have been able to give an answer.

But I had a script that met all the guidelines.

Being new to the GFP I pushed myself even harder.
Tuesday I did a rewrite, a polish, and submitted it.

I haven’t a clue what my classmates will think about it. We only met once. I don’t really know them at all well.

So I’m rather nervous about the vote.

But who knows, it might get chosen to be made.
If I’m very, very lucky.

 

To 2016

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2016
Just seeing it written is exciting.
I love fresh starts.
The last few years have been full of upheaval. It started when new neighbors moved in next door. To say they were weird would put them in a better light than they deserve.
Our house, which we had lived in for thirteen years, had no side yard or backyard. So when these neighbors took an immediate dislike to me and my family we found ourselves in a bad situation.
If you’ve ever lived next door to someone who is determined to make your life miserable you’ll know what I mean. Things were done that made us jumpy and uncomfortable. We quickly began to feel we needed to close our curtains and keep the doors locked at all times.
Which made sense, since we were under attack and we were being watched. A drop camera  was positioned so that it would capture both the only entrance and the interior of my house (which explains the desire to close the curtains). I thought of calling the police about it, until I noticed that the camera disappeared whenever we had company.
We were ready to dig in and fight back. Then we noticed that our other neighbors had decided to turn a blind eye to the bad behavior, and there was a lot of it, and act like the newbies were their best buds.
It disgusted me. Where was that community feeling we had been building for over a dozen years? Were they scared they’d be next, or did they just not care about us?
We were under constant stress. So we sold our house and moved to a noisy apartment in Ballard. It had a lot of inconveniences, but it felt safe. After a while we got over our shell-shock.
Mostly, at least. I still shiver when I remember the many, many things that happened the last year in that house.
When our lease was up on the apartment we bought this house. It has a huge yard with plenty of buffer from the neighbors, just in case.
I’m ready for the fresh start.
To 2016, and a new beginning.

The day after Christmas

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There’s something peaceful about the day after Christmas. For me at least.

The mad rush to ‘enjoy’ the season is over. As is scurrying around like a demented squirrel trying to find that last perfect nut, I mean gift.

But there’s still loads of goodwill floating around in the air, waiting tickle a frown into a smile or smooth out the rough edges of what we call civilization.

I think it hides in Christmas decorations and sneaks out when no one is looking to lighten the mood. Or maybe so much goodwill is spread around Christmas day that there’s an invisible layer on the ground that takes several days to evaporate.

Whatever the reason, the day after Christmas is one of my favorite days of the year.
All I need to do is relax.

It’s a good way to end the year.

And to look forward to a-

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

On vacation from writing

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I’m on writing vacation until the new year.

That doesn’t mean I won’t do any writing, just that I’ll steer clear of those projects that are likely to suck me in and make me manic to finish them.

Like the novel and screenplay I’ve put on hold. Both are completed first drafts, and both have the potential to mesmerize me to the point that I forget the million and seven other things I should be doing.

But even though I’m on vacation, I’m not silly enough to restrict myself from all writing. I’d go crazy, which certainly wouldn’t promote a holiday spirit.

So this morning I dug out a five page short I’d written for a class. Only one person other than myself has ever seen it, and he was the professor who had given out the assignment.

As I reread it I became increasingly glad it had remained dormant on my computer. I had written it early in the program, before I learned about the proper formatting of scripts. It was a bit of a mess.

Not the story, mind you, only the formatting. I love the story. It’s from a picture book I wrote about six years ago that is due to be published in January 2016.

As I scanned it I clearly remembered the problem I had had cutting the story down small enough to fit into five measly pages.

But now that the arbitrary length requirement is lifted, it’s going to be fun to spread my wings and fly with it.

I just have to decide, do I keep it a short, say under thirty pages?
Or do I really spread my wings and make it feature length?

Hmm. I feel a strange swirling sensation. Almost like-

Darn. I’d better put this one aside, too. It’s chock full of those nasty mesmerizing properties.

Sigh. Isn’t there anything safe to write when I only want to write a little?

Be human

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We are humans, people! If we want our species to be around a bit longer, it is up to us to band together and really show our humanity.

We can start by raising our children to be happy, healthy, contributing members of society who know how to think for themselves and are willing to work for what they want. Not bitter, self-centered robots who have easily pushed buttons and no respect for the rights of others.

Like the terrorist couple in San Bernardino who not only decimated multiple families, but left behind a 6-month-old. Their actions showed a total lack of humanity.

So take note, all you bullies, mass murderers, terrorists, anarchists, and despots out there. You’re on notice. Step up and join humanity, which means respecting your fellow humans, or get out. Of the human race. You don’t belong.

And when you go, leave behind the trappings of humanity. You know, technology, language, clothing,  books, and all the other things humans have bonded together to create throughout the years. If you can’t play by the rules of humanity you can’t play with humanity’s toys.

Instead, take your naked little selves off into the woods and see how the rest of the animal kingdom treats you.

 

Dream conundrum

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I woke up this morning to the realization that all of my dreams last night centered around sleep.

Curling up on the floor to sleep.

Laying my head on a desk to sleep.

Stretching out in a chair to sleep.

In my dreams the desire to sleep was so great that I didn’t care where or when I closed my eyes. I just wanted to sleep.

Strange. I could understand daydreaming about sleep, if I was very, very tired.

But why dream about sleeping while asleep?

I hope I didn’t break some rule of the universe, like the time travel one where you’re not supposed to interact with yourself.