A problem to have

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I have a problem.

In the big scheme of life, it’s frankly not a very bad problem. As a matter of fact, it might even be considered a good problem.

But it is a problem.

I’ve been contacted by a production company who wants to read one of my scripts. I’m excited! Elated! Thrilled! Chomping at the bit to send it right over!

Or I was, until they sent a release form that needs to accompany the script. The very long, very confusing release form that appears to give them the right to independently develop a script almost identical to mine while they have mine in hand.

Gulp! I don’t like the sound of that!

But maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe the clause in question (actually, there are several scary clauses) are the norm in release forms.

So I did what every good librarian would do and researched release forms. Most of forms I found do have a clause to protect the companies from being sued if they receive multiple scripts about the same idea, but none had it worded in quite the same way.

Add that to the fact that the release I was being asked to sign was four times longer than most and written in legal-speak, well….

I found a lawyer to look it over and was told that the release was ‘fishy’. But I’m not quite ready to give up yet, especially after I realized that he’s not an entertainment lawyer. I need someone who really knows the ins and outs of script release forms.

So my problem is that I need to find an entertainment lawyer.
Not as easy as you might think.
But in the overall scheme of things, not really a bad problem to have.

Just because

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I’ve decided to reward myself this morning. 
I’ve worked very hard lately, screenwriting until my fingers nearly bleed. Writing and revising, all while worrying about the 3 act structure, plot points, etc.
My brain is tired of jumping through hoops. It wants to write, without worrying about keeping things in the present tense or the proper format of a flashback.
I’ve been chomping at the bit to work on the next novel. This morning I’ll let myself.
(For a short while, at least. I still have a few things to do to finish up script number five.)
Here’s my first draft version of the beginning of the novel. I’ll share it, just because.
Just because this novel has patiently waited years for me to continue writing it. 
Just because I love the story and hope others will love it too.
And just because my mama always told me it’s good to share.

“Hello,” I rasped into the phone,
my voice still as asleep as my brain had been ten seconds before. It was 10
o’clock on a Monday morning, and for the first time in years my children had
decided to let me sleep late.
“Is this Mrs. Rossi?” a man’s voice
asked.
“Yes, this is Mrs. Rossi. Vanessa.
Who is this?”
“This is Dr. Brown at Madigan
Hospital. I was wondering why you weren’t here yet.”
“What?”
“Mrs. Rossi, didn’t anyone call and
tell you that your husband was in a car accident, that he was hit by a semi
truck this morning?”
“What!” I yelled, instantly fully
awake.

Gotta go.
Just because I can’t wait another minute to relax into this!

BTW – The phone call happened. To me.

Dog training

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About four months ago my husband and I sold our home and moved into an apartment.

The only problem was that our old house was the only home Pepper, our dog, had ever known. Which made me feel very, very guilty.

The biggest source of my guilt was that in our old home Pepper had her own door and could run outside and roll around in the grass whenever her furry little heart desired. And it desired it a lot. I’d often see her out there, digging in one spot, rolling in another, sniffing the air, and showing the squirrels silly enough to come into our yard who was boss.

In the apartment we rented we don’t have so much as a sliver of a  balcony. The only time Pepper gets to raise that little nose and take in all the smells of the great outdoors is when we take her out on her leash. Her chances to dig, roll, sniff, or chase have been drastically curtailed.

So it’s not surprising that when she points those puppy dog eyes at me I feel a bit like a monster. Especially when she gives me that, “What did I do to you to make you lock me in jail?” look.

I now realize that over the past four months she’s used those eyes wisely. To train me.

First she melts my heart with sad eyes (negative feedback) when she wants a walk. Then, after she’s taken for one, she rewards me with happy eyes (positive feedback).

Standard training procedure.

She’s a smart dog. Smart enough that she now gets a couple of long walks and at least four short ones.  So if you’re keeping count, that means she’s taken outside a minimum of six times each and every day.

 

Yes, my dog and her eyes have me trained well.

Very well indeed.

Into the darkness?

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I usually pooh-pooh the idea that stories control their own path.
I create my characters, and I decide what happens to them. That’s the way it is.

Usually.

But my latest screenplay actually does seem to have a mind of its own. I wrote it to be light-hearted and humorous, but light-hearted and humorous aren’t working. Not even a little.

I don’t know if it’s the gray skies, the approach of Halloween, or that the story is about ghosts, but this screenplay screams to be dark. Much darker than what I usually write.

And now that it’s time for rewrites I’ve got a decision to make.

Do get out the brightest flashlight I can find and force light-heartedness into a place it doesn’t want to be?

Or do I turn out all the lights and delve into the darkness?

Hmm. I do love to stretch my writing muscles, keep them from getting stiff. A good swim should do it.

But I’m nervous as I prepare to dive into the inky blackness of the Sea of Scary. Will I make it safely across? Or will some ancient monster from its black depths spot me and drag me under?

How to be a fantastic parent in 10 not-so-easy steps

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Although numbered, these steps are in no particular order.

1. Stay up all night and worry. It’s an important part of the job.

2. Don’t try to be friends with your child, you’re job is to be a parent. Trying to be a friend will not make you look cool, but silly and ridiculous. Is that what you really want?

3. Teach your child to show respect for authority. Smart aleck kids might be cute on television but in real life they’re a pain-in-the-neck. Think of the last pain-in-the-neck you worked with. Did you want to help them succeed or kick them in the pants?

4. Start out strict and give more leniency as the child matures. It’ll make both of your lives more pleasant.

5. Children test boundaries, it’s part of human nature. So be sure to give them boundaries. They’re building muscles they’ll use for the rest of their lives.

6. Read to your child a lot and often. Read until people tell you it’s ridiculous, that your child is too old to be read to. Search out new novels (age appropriate), read classics,  expand your horizons as you expand you child’s. It’s a great adventure that will bring you closer together.

7. Never laugh at your child’s naughty behavior. Children repeat things they think are cute.

8. Never ignore inappropriate behavior. Children view parental inaction as approval.

9. Teach your child empathy rather than entitlement and you’ll be doing the world a favor. Brats become bullies, and we already have enough bullies to go around. We don’t need any more.

10. Enjoy time with your child. Children can be the funniest, sweetest, most entertaining creatures on earth. Better than video games, better than television, and even better than a good book. Which is saying a lot, coming as it is from a writer who spent years as a librarian.

Office space

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In our old house I had a 12 X 14 office all to myself. I adored having so much room!
But we moved, and there is very little ‘extra’ space for a dedicated office in our 820 sq. ft. apartment.
So I did what I’m sure many other writers have done in the past. I carved a little niche for myself in the bedroom. ‘Little’ being the operative word, because what you see is all I’ve got!
It works though, because it includes what I consider the two most important assets of an office space. A door I can close and a window I can open.
Of course, I still use the same alarm clock as before. The one that patiently reminds me when it’s time to give my brain a rest and take a walk.
Happy writing!

 

Interrupted by indecision

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This morning’s writing has been interrupted by indecision.

I’m usually a pretty decisive person, rarely unable to quickly make up my mind. At least about important things.

But this morning I found myself snatching and discarding possibilities faster than a five-year-old in a candy store with only a dollar to spend.  All because I need to define a new character in a script I’m writing.

I’ll admit that for a moment I was tempted to blame my inability on my old friends, the Jupiterians. Those rambunctious, mischievous little critters adore playing pranks, and I am their favorite target. But then I came to my senses and realized that the only way they could manage this particular prank would be to get inside my head.

They’re wily, but not that wily.

I might as well accept it, the fault is all my own. Maybe I should-

What was that? Did I just hear giggles?

I wonder if I should worry.

Scam phone call

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What a nice way to start the weekend. NOT!

The phone rang at 8 am, and it’s Saturday. I answered and had the following conversation.

“Can I speak to (husband’s name here)?”
“Who’s calling?”
“(Husband’s name here), I’m calling about your computer.”
“What computer? I don’t have a computer.” (Note: This is a scam call I’ve gotten many times over the last few years. The caller claims to be from Microsoft, and says that my computer needs fixing. The only way I’ve ever gotten them not to call every day is to say I don’t have a computer.)
“You’re a liar. You have a computer.”
“Wow. Did you really just call me a liar?”
“I did, because you are a liar. A big, fat liar.”
“Whether I have a computer or not really doesn’t matter. What matters is I don’t want you to ever call here again. I’m on the Do Not Call list-”
“I’m going to call you forever and forever. And you’d better do what I want, I’m a Pakistani.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Yes, I’m threatening you. I’m going to !@#$% you up. So you’d better watch out.”
“Well, I’ll be reporting this call to the authorities.”
“You’d better watch out! I’m going to !@#$% you up-”

Click


What a sad life that guy must have! So much time and energy spent trying to scam people out of their money. And his language!

Should I have asked him if he kisses his mother with that mouth?

My daughter gave an excellent suggestion for the next time the scammer calls. It involves a whistle and a lung full of air.

So scammer, I’m giving you fair warning. The next time you call you’d better wear ear plugs!
Or better yet, don’t call at all.

At the car dealership

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I visited a car dealership last week, and was it an eye opener!

I probably should give a little background. As a writer I’m self-employed and work from home. So when we moved to a walkable area I decided to get rid of our second car and conduct an experiment to see if we could be a one car family.

The experiment lasted a mere three months. Let me tell you, car withdrawal symptoms are not pretty. Not pretty at all.

So my husband and I spent hours comparing cars online, looking for deals, and discussing what would best suit our needs. It was a grueling process, but we persevered. We finally found an ad for a 2014 Ford Escape at one of the nearby dealerships that we both liked.

Hubby had to work and he hates buying things, so I drove him to work the next day and took my youngest daughter with me so she could drive the old car home while I drove the Escape.

To be honest, I expected a smooth buying experience. I’m a woman with excellent credit who’s purchased multiple cars by myself in the past.

I should have known there was trouble when the salesman jotted down a series of numbers on a piece of paper, shoved it under my nose, and said, “You girls are intelligent, you can see what a deal this is. You girls better hurry and snap it up, it won’t last long!”

You girls?

I ignored it and the negotiating began. Only, this salesman employed a technique I’ve never before encountered in a car salesman. Every negotiating point was accompanied by a very inappropriate leer.

I suppose he thought the more uncomfortable he made ‘girls’ the more flustered they’d become. And his leers did make me uncomfortable. After about ten minutes of it I’d practically put my jacket on backwards.

But I was so determined to drive away in a new Escape that I did my best to ignore the creep factor and negotiated a price I could live with. I filled out the credit application and waited while he took it to his manager.

He jauntily returned few minutes later. “My manager says your husband will have to come in. Since you’re self employed, he says you can’t buy a car.”

“Wait a minute,” I argued, “I’ve bought plenty of cars in the past. Besides, my husband and I have been married 29 years. We share everything. What’s his is mine, and what’s mine is his.”

He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. What the manager says, goes.”

“Did you check my credit?”

“Yep. Your credit is excellent. Couldn’t be higher. But we still need your husband.”

About then I realized I must have stepped through a portal into a time when women weren’t allowed to make financial transactions. Our little brains couldn’t handle the stress.

My daughter and I left with our heads high and Ford lost a sale.

As we drove home my daughter thanked me for the experience. It seems it was the first time she’d seen sexism first hand. She had been under the impression that sexism was dead.

But sexism isn’t dead.
It’s alive! Bwa ha ha ha!

Turn off the !@#$% computer!

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I received messages a few days ago informing me that cyberbullying is not a problem. I guess the sender wanted me to know I’d wasted my time writing Gray Zone.

“Turn off the !@#$% computer! Problem solved,” was one message he wrote.

Anger oozed from his messages like pus from an infected wound. Which made me wonder what had wounded him so deeply that he thought it was okay to use profanity towards a perfect stranger.

Okay, so maybe I’m not so perfect. But that’s not the point. We’re not friends, buds, or even acquaintances. We’re strangers.

But I’ll disregard his total lack of web manners and address the feasibility of his ‘solution’.

Because simply turning off the computer solves nothing.

Oh sure, it’ll keep one type of negativity spewer away. The kind that goes around randomly attacking everyone and anyone they find on the Internet. Stay away from the virtual world and it is possible to stay away from their disgusting, virtual spit.

But those aren’t the bullies I wrote about in Gray Zone. The ones in Gray Zone, the ones most common to teens, use the Internet as a tool, but not the only tool.

Turn off the computer and the victim will receive hateful phone calls and texts.

Put away the cell phone and the victim will be tormented by the laughter and whispers of fellow students as they ‘enjoy’ an embarrassing video, picture, or comment. At the victim’s expense, of course.

Ignore the whispers and the victim will find that friends are suddenly too busy to hang out, especially when rumors and embarrassing pictures of the victim flood their school.

Because the cyberbullies teens have to deal with quite often go to school with their victims, live in the neighborhood, and have a front row seat to the drama they create with their torture.

So go ahead, pull the plug on the computer if it makes you feel better.
It’ll do very little to short-circuit the power trip that makes a bully, a bully.