Shameless Self-Promotion

I just noticed that the hardcover edition of my book happens to be on sale right now. If you ever thought about checking it out, this is the cheapest I've ever seen it go for. 

Please note that I have absolutely no control over any of that stuff, nor do I earn much from the sale. I just want people to read my work. 

Judge-Mentality

For the past several weeks, I have been reading scripts for a well-known international film festival. For the sake of non-disclosure, I'll leave it at that. So far, I have read 117 scripts, most of which were feature-length screenplays, along with a few dozen TV pilots and a handful of stage plays. While I cannot speak of the scripts themselves in specific terms, I can generalize. 

It is encouraging to know that there are a lot of really good writers out there. I laughed, I cried, I was moved by quite a few of them, even if that just meant wanting to turn the page to see what happens next. Others had more room for improvement. Some had good ideas that didn't quite play out. That's how it goes.  

Judging scripts is a lot like grading papers, which I think that I have learned to do objectively in my many years of teaching college. That is to say that my own tastes are not a factor in my judging criteria. When reading these scripts, I tried to focus on what works while offering constructive feedback on what does not. Having entered a lot of screenwriting contests myself over the years, it was an interesting experience to be on this side of the judging process. I tried to provide the kinds of notes that I might find useful as a writer. 

Many of these writers were obviously still in the early stages of learning the craft, while others had it down to a science. Good stories came from throughout the spectrum. As a general rule, the best writing--and this is true in pretty much any form--is the kind that says more with less. Editing is a good place to remove all of the stuff that doesn't need to be in there.  

Some of these scripts were overwritten; many offered descriptions that could neither be seen nor heard. These elements might work in a novel, but not in a script. Other scripts were simply too small for the big screen (no matter what size the screen actually is). By that, I mean that slices-of-life stories need to have some bigger idea behind them that people can connect with. The common advice of 'writing what you know' is reasonable when it comes to a first script, but after that, I recommend leaning on your imagination a bit more. 

I say this as someone whose first feature-length screenplay was in fact a melodramatic slice-of-life turd that was loosely based on people I knew and true stories that I had accumulated over the years. It would not have made a good movie. I can see that now. However, in the process of writing it, I became a better writer. With these scripts that I recently read, most if not all of these writers have since gone on to become better writers as well. It's just kind of the nature of doing anything. The more you do it, the better you tend to get. Your worst work can provide the most learning opportunities.

While I did read all of these scripts (which works out to something like ten thousand pages, as my weary eyeballs can attest), in most cases, it was pretty obvious by about ten to twenty pages in if it was getting a yes vote or a no. I read all of them with an open mind, but most of the time, this was how it went. There is a clear difference between writers who have mastered the craft and those who have not, just as there was a clear difference between scripts that told an engaging story versus those that did not. Only rarely did a script do both of these things exceptionally well, and that skill was typically on display throughout. 

I read a lot of well-researched biopics of historical figures where the story sometimes got lost in the details or in the mythology of that character. I read a number of coming out stories that were moving and real but which lacked a distinct voice or perspective. I read comedy pilots that no doubt seemed funnier in the heads of the people who wrote them, but they weren't quite able to capture that on the page. I read scripts that were good but which I also believed that the writer seemed capable of taking further. And then were the great scripts... 

These were the scripts where the writer demonstrated mastery of both the craft of writing and the art of storytelling. They were like good songs where the musicians play their instruments well. Along those same lines, my advice to aspiring writers is to hone your craft through practice and exercise your artistry by telling the stories that don't yet exist but should. Make them your own and say something, but don't be afraid to step outside of your own ego in order to do so.

As a bonus tip: revise your work, even if it means trampling upon said ego in the process. There is a clear distinction between a polished script and a first draft. To that end, I recommend that you take out anything that doesn't add anything new and remove as many adverbs as possible. Distill the narrative to its essence and rebuild as necessary from there. With enough work, many of the scripts that did not advance to the next round could in fact be winners another year. 

It was a joy to screen these movies, shows and plays in my imagination, almost like my own personal film festival, the opportunity for which I am thankful.


Analog

I went to film school on the cusp of the digital revolution. The internet existed, but sites like Google and Facebook did not. Everywhere I went, there were free CD-ROMs in cardboard sleeves that offered a thousand free hours of America On-Line (AOL) just for signing up. They made terrible stocking stuffers. 


If I recall, my Frankenstein PC had a Pentium II processor with 1 GB of RAM. To render a video file was usually an overnight process. I also had a special video card that allowed me to hook a VCR up to my computer. It cost me eight hundred bucks.

My camera was a SONY VX-1000. At the time, it was damn near top of the line in terms of pro-sumer electronics. It used Mini-DV tapes, which I have since found to be a terrible format--but back in film school, this thing was badass. It had zebra stripes on the screen to tell you if something was overexposed, as well as built-in neutral density filters to correct it. 




I could only afford this equipment because I worked for the telephone company when I first started going to film school. I worked as a service technician during the day, and then I took classes at night. In the meantime, I set myself up with some decent equipment so that I could make movies whenever I wanted instead of having to check out equipment from the "film cage" every time. I lived about forty minutes away on the red line, so I seldom made impromptu trips downtown.  

At a certain point in the curriculum, the next class for me to take was a six-credit whopper that was only offered during the day. Tech I, as it was called at the time (although I think the actual name of the course was Production I, but close enough) met four days a week for two and a half hours a day on the tenth floor of an old building downtown. One time I got to class early and threw paper airplanes out a screenless window for what seemed like miles. 

But I'm getting ahead of myself. I had reached a point where I had to decide between continuing to work for the phone company or go to film school full time. This would have to mean taking out student loans as well, as I knew that I could not afford to live in Chicago otherwise. I did have some savings, but I spent a lot of it on video equipment. Ultimately, I quit my job. To date, it remains one of the highest-paying positions that I have ever had--which is kind of sad, frankly. I chose film school over the blue collar life of my parents, because that I had already seen. 

In Tech I, everyone had to load a Bolex camera in the dark. It was an A or an F kind of thing. There were a lot of assignments like that. Maybe not the A's so much, but it could be pretty easy to get an F. Lens flares are one example, which is to say that JJ Abrams never would have made it. I think this was a way of weeding out the people who were there for fun versus those who were there to learn. By the third year or so, us learners were pretty much all that was left. 



Tech I taught the basics of 16mm film production, while also providing hands-on experience. Loading that camera in total darkness was a great exercise, but I can't say that it has ever come in all that handy. I wonder if the students there still use those old cameras, left over from making newsreels during the Second World War. The front had what we called a fully manual zoom, in that it required that the user rotates a turret with three different lenses on it: one wide angle, one standard, and one telephoto. On most of these old cameras, at least one of the lenses was messed up in one way or another. 





While some of the skills that I gained in film school have little value outside of the motion picture industry--or in some cases, history books--understanding the principles behind them I believe to be invaluable.

Progress

"...Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness." These are the rights that the founding fathers declared to be inalienable. Many of these men, of course, also owned slaves, and it would still be over a hundred years before women gained the right to vote.

This fundamental contradiction is at the heart of what it means to live in the United States of America. This, in large part, is what Critical Race Theory and the 1619 Project are all about. It is about recognizing a broader reality, rather than simply painting over our past with the eye-catching hues of jingoistic mythology. 

If you were a slave in the American south, your own children could be sold off as property. Slaves could not own anything themselves, nor were they allowed to learn how to read or write. They had no liberty, and even their lives were not their own. For census purposes, they were counted as 3/5 of human beings, which is the closest that the Constitution ever came to addressing the issue of slavery until after the Civil War.

Even the Emancipation Proclamation was fundamentally an act of war. It was Lincoln saying, "End the war or I'm going to tell all of your slaves that they aren't your property anymore, and then we'll see what that does for your economy and your ability to fight a war. Let's see you reenact this." I'm paraphrasing, but that's the idea... and I like to imagine Abraham Lincoln with a squeaky voice.

That leaves us with the pursuit of happiness. 

To be in pursuit of something is to move in a forward direction, chasing something--in this case, happiness. In that sense, you could say that it is indeed about the journey and not the destination. You could also say that it implies a fundamental need for progress, not just on a personal level, but as a participant in a functioning democracy

America is supposed to be a place where people can improve the station of their lives through will and hard work. For many people, of course, this has always been a myth, and in this country's most formative years, slaves worked harder than anybody. I dare anyone to tell me otherwise. As we all know, their labor was never paid, nor is it even acknowledged in most history books that examine that period. 

A better future is only possible if we are fully aware of the road behind us. 

Over the centuries, America has been engaged in the relentless pursuit of a more perfect union, which is an idea that predates the Declaration of Independence. This path is called progress. It leads us forward, toward the realization of the lofty ideals upon which this nation was initially founded. 

We are not perfect, but we are steadily getting better. Living in this in-between is precisely what it means to be American. It always has been. Over the years, we have improved incrementally. It started by abandoning outdated traditions in favor of a more pragmatic path forward.

Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Equal rights, no matter your race or creed. The tired, huddled (or is it hustled?) masses, yearning to be free. It is the unwavering pursuit of these principles that defines the American experiment to ourselves and to the rest of the world. 

As Americans, we must work together to make our namesake Dream a reality, to be a country where people of all backgrounds can truly better themselves through their own labor, diligence and imagination. 

At the same time, we as a nation must do the same. We must collectively put forth the effort to become a more inclusive and better functioning democracy. We must not abandon the path of progress in favor of distraction politics or anything else that only serves to divide us. 

We are the United States of America, and progess means expanding access to voting booths, not restricting it. 

When this country was founded, only white, land-owning men could vote. Progress is the path that led us here, just as it must continue to lead us forward in pursuit of a more perfect union. 

We can and must do better. Ultimately, our capability for self-improvement defines us as a nation to a far greater degree than the imaginary lines that surround us.

Breakthrough

I try to conceptualize my goals in the same way that a martial artist chops through a cement block. They aren't striking the block, per se, but the space behind it. 

Whenever I set a goal for myself, I try to see the big picture first, albeit in soft focus. Only later do the details begin to emerge. For example, if I'm writing a song, I try to imagine what it might sound like as a fully realized compostion, and then I start to piece it all together. I can hear the vocal melody in my head before I know what the words are going to be. On the same token, if I am writing a book or a screenplay, I am a major proponent of outlining, as it allows me to see the big picture first... the space behind the surmountable piece of concrete. 

In life, I try to project where I want to be and then work out the specifics in terms of how to get there. The details are usually kind of hazy at first, but if my mind is focused on the future, then I find that it often makes the present seem a hell of a lot more manageable. 

It also seems to be helping with learning another language. I know where I want to be. Now I'm just taking the steps to get there.