I'm not a big New Year's resolutions guy, but somehow they seem in the spirit of this here blog. So here are a few. You'll be able to track my progress on them right here throughout the year.
1. I will finish Tyree by January 12, 2007, the one year anniversary of completing Guernica.
1a. Immediately after finishing Tyree, I will start planning the third play of the trilogy. I think it's going to be called Slate at this point, although if you've seen or read Guernica, you might understand why that could be a little tricky.
2. I will complete a first draft of The Unnamed Football Project.
2a. I will come up with a name for The Unnamed Football Project.
2b. I will do a reading of The Unnamed Football Project somewhere, maybe in Cleveland.
3. I will do a reading of The Elaborate Entrance of Chad Deity at some point in the early part of the year, possibly in February in New York City.
3a. Speaking of February, I will be in New York City to participate in the No Passport conference. This one isn't so much a resolution as a statement of fact, but still.
4. I will (finally) finish retyping my first screenplay, written way back in my senior year of college and then lost in one of my many computer transfers. The screenplay is called Forever Talisman, and it basically got me into graduate school. I'm working from a hard copy, retyping and editing as I go. I'm hoping to be able to shop it around this year.
4a. I will finish at least one of these two screenplays: The Ali Boys and/or The Adventures of Jane and Mary. The former is a longtime pet project (and another exploration of pro wrestling), the latter is a top secret special collaboration with my buddy duD.
5. I will do one final (hopefully) revision of Welcome to Arroyo's.
5a. I will make one major announcement about the future of Welcome to Arroyo's.
5b. Well, maybe two.
5c. Well, let's not put a limit on it just yet.
5d. There will be at least one opportunity to see a version of Welcome to Arroyo's, especially if you live in New York.
5e. I may--may--finish that darn novelization of that darn play.
6. I will dilligently be pushing, selling, schmoozing, pimping, promoting, glorifying and begging to get these darn plays produced and published.
Let's see what happens.
Friday, December 29, 2006
Saturday, December 16, 2006
Let's Talk About Tyree.
So the play I'm most in the middle of right now is called Tyree. I've mentioned it here before.
It's a challenge to myself. It's probably not a play that is going to make me much, if any, money. It's probably not a play that is going to do much in terms of building up my reputation. I say that not because Tyree isn't going well; to the contrary, I'm loving the process of writing this play. I think it's a huge departure for me, and it's changing the way I write. This play is wildly important in terms of my development as a writer, and I think it'll surprise folks whenever they finally get to check it out, in whatever form they get to check it out.
It's just...different. Very different.
I don't get it. And that's the point.
I sat down to write a sequel to my play Guernica, which hasn't yet been produced, although it was a semi-finalist for this year's O'Neill conference. I knew the play ended with more story to be told, so I decided to dive back in and see where the untied storylines would lead me. And they are leading me...someplace. I'm not quite sure where. But I'm following.
One of the big challenges of doing a follow-up to Guernica is that I'm not staying with the character of Guernica herself. Most of her loose ends are pretty much tied up in the first play. She has a mission, she accomplishes it, she's pretty set. Tyree is the character left up in the air at the curtain of the first play. Tyree though is a pretty passive character in Guernica--the trick here in Tyree is how to make her the driving force of the play, how to make her make things happen. And I'm solving that problem by...well, I'm not sure I'm solving that problem.
And that's what's so strange about this play for me. It's not flashy and full of music like Welcome to Arroyo's. It's not overtly political and loud-mouthed like The Elaborate Entrance of Chad Deity. It's not about a subject I'd consider myself an expert on like either of those two aforementioned plays. It's not even a tense, taut, uncomfortable power triangle like Guernica. It's a beast of its own. It's in the Pinter vein (I can't believe I would even write that sentence). It's way open to interpretation. It contains stage directions that don't even really make sense to me. This play is, quite simply, full of whatever comes out of me when I sit down to write it, whether I can explain it or not.
And ultimately, that's pretty exciting.
Tyree will be finished and ready for public consumption by January 12th, 2007--one year after I finished Guernica.
It's a challenge to myself. It's probably not a play that is going to make me much, if any, money. It's probably not a play that is going to do much in terms of building up my reputation. I say that not because Tyree isn't going well; to the contrary, I'm loving the process of writing this play. I think it's a huge departure for me, and it's changing the way I write. This play is wildly important in terms of my development as a writer, and I think it'll surprise folks whenever they finally get to check it out, in whatever form they get to check it out.
It's just...different. Very different.
I don't get it. And that's the point.
I sat down to write a sequel to my play Guernica, which hasn't yet been produced, although it was a semi-finalist for this year's O'Neill conference. I knew the play ended with more story to be told, so I decided to dive back in and see where the untied storylines would lead me. And they are leading me...someplace. I'm not quite sure where. But I'm following.
One of the big challenges of doing a follow-up to Guernica is that I'm not staying with the character of Guernica herself. Most of her loose ends are pretty much tied up in the first play. She has a mission, she accomplishes it, she's pretty set. Tyree is the character left up in the air at the curtain of the first play. Tyree though is a pretty passive character in Guernica--the trick here in Tyree is how to make her the driving force of the play, how to make her make things happen. And I'm solving that problem by...well, I'm not sure I'm solving that problem.
And that's what's so strange about this play for me. It's not flashy and full of music like Welcome to Arroyo's. It's not overtly political and loud-mouthed like The Elaborate Entrance of Chad Deity. It's not about a subject I'd consider myself an expert on like either of those two aforementioned plays. It's not even a tense, taut, uncomfortable power triangle like Guernica. It's a beast of its own. It's in the Pinter vein (I can't believe I would even write that sentence). It's way open to interpretation. It contains stage directions that don't even really make sense to me. This play is, quite simply, full of whatever comes out of me when I sit down to write it, whether I can explain it or not.
And ultimately, that's pretty exciting.
Tyree will be finished and ready for public consumption by January 12th, 2007--one year after I finished Guernica.
Sunday, December 10, 2006
Joe Eszterhaus is My New Hero.
I picked up The Devil's Guide To Hollywood, and you know what? It's kind of changing my life.
Backstory: Joe Eszterhaus is a screenwriter, a very famous, very notorious, very wealthy screenwriter. He has written, among other scripts, Flashdance, Basic Instinct, and, of course, Showgirls. And yes, this is the man I am referring to as my new hero. He's from Cleveland. He's Hungarian. He's pretty over the top and has been referred to as wildly sexist, a hack, and one of the worst screenwriters to ever write a script. Of course, his films have grossed, I believe, billions of dollars.
But the money isn't what I'm connecting to here. And honestly, it's not the book either--a collection of quotations and advice from Eszterhaus himself, as well as quotes from all kind of Hollywood icons that he has, presumably, encountered in his travels. There are a lot--a lot--of quotes from Zsa Zsa Gabor in this book. I think that gives you a sense of what we're working with here. He also rips some folks apart, talking about having slept with Martin Scorsese's wife (I think it's Scorsese), and criticizing the words of writers like William Goldman, whose Adventures in the Screen Trade is one of my favorite books of all-time (and whose The Princess Bride is my favorite book of all-time).
But none of that is what's so exciting to me.
The subtitle of the Eszterhaus book is The Screenwriter as God, and fundamentally, the entire book is geared towards reminding us writers that we are the backbone of this whole damn enterprise. Nothing happens without a script. And yet, everyone, at every step of the creative film process, undermines and undercuts the writer, offering notes, making changes, presuming to know how to identify and fix "problems" in the script, even if they have never written a script themselves. This doesn't happen quite so much in theater, but it happens. I've experienced it. I've let myself be affected by it. I've had decent experiences with it and created some good works because of it.
But yo.
Yo.
A lot of bending over backwards get done in that process. A lot of self-doubt arises out of that process. Projects die in the water because of listening to other folks and not defending your work, not fighting for your work, not fighting for the honor of your words. You end up listening and being polite and waiting for folks to make something happen, but yo--why?
I'm not sure why I'm saying yo so much.
But folks, here's what I'm saying here.
The work is good.
I know the work is good.
People know the work is good.
And I'm letting them--I have let them--settle for the work being good, as if that's enough in and of itself.
It is not.
The plays need to be produced.
These plays need to be produced.
They need to be produced properly.
And I'm the only person who can ensure that those productions come to fruition.
Backstory: Joe Eszterhaus is a screenwriter, a very famous, very notorious, very wealthy screenwriter. He has written, among other scripts, Flashdance, Basic Instinct, and, of course, Showgirls. And yes, this is the man I am referring to as my new hero. He's from Cleveland. He's Hungarian. He's pretty over the top and has been referred to as wildly sexist, a hack, and one of the worst screenwriters to ever write a script. Of course, his films have grossed, I believe, billions of dollars.
But the money isn't what I'm connecting to here. And honestly, it's not the book either--a collection of quotations and advice from Eszterhaus himself, as well as quotes from all kind of Hollywood icons that he has, presumably, encountered in his travels. There are a lot--a lot--of quotes from Zsa Zsa Gabor in this book. I think that gives you a sense of what we're working with here. He also rips some folks apart, talking about having slept with Martin Scorsese's wife (I think it's Scorsese), and criticizing the words of writers like William Goldman, whose Adventures in the Screen Trade is one of my favorite books of all-time (and whose The Princess Bride is my favorite book of all-time).
But none of that is what's so exciting to me.
The subtitle of the Eszterhaus book is The Screenwriter as God, and fundamentally, the entire book is geared towards reminding us writers that we are the backbone of this whole damn enterprise. Nothing happens without a script. And yet, everyone, at every step of the creative film process, undermines and undercuts the writer, offering notes, making changes, presuming to know how to identify and fix "problems" in the script, even if they have never written a script themselves. This doesn't happen quite so much in theater, but it happens. I've experienced it. I've let myself be affected by it. I've had decent experiences with it and created some good works because of it.
But yo.
Yo.
A lot of bending over backwards get done in that process. A lot of self-doubt arises out of that process. Projects die in the water because of listening to other folks and not defending your work, not fighting for your work, not fighting for the honor of your words. You end up listening and being polite and waiting for folks to make something happen, but yo--why?
I'm not sure why I'm saying yo so much.
But folks, here's what I'm saying here.
The work is good.
I know the work is good.
People know the work is good.
And I'm letting them--I have let them--settle for the work being good, as if that's enough in and of itself.
It is not.
The plays need to be produced.
These plays need to be produced.
They need to be produced properly.
And I'm the only person who can ensure that those productions come to fruition.
Thursday, December 07, 2006
The Japanese Ocho Cinco.
In case you don't know, this is Ocho Cinco.
He's a big part of The Unnamed Football Project.
I'm fascinated right now with the National Football League as the mythology of the United States.
Now, let me make this clear--I'm not exactly a football fan.
I mean, I watch it, and I enjoy it, and I know some things about it.
I'm doing a damn good job in my fantasy football league, mainly because I picked Ladainian Tomlinson to get things started.
But as far as sports go, I will always be baseball first.
There's something really specific about the NFL though.
Maybe it's the fact that there's a whole day of the week set aside special for its games.
Maybe it's the Super Bowl.
Whatever.
Professional football plays are icons in a way that very few athletes are these days.
They're larger than life.
They're archetypes.
We see one side of these guys, and they get labeled, and they become almost parodies of themselves through no fault of their own.
Sometimes, a guy like Ocho Cinco has a little fun with that.
And that's spectacular.
And that's what I'm interested in.
He's a big part of The Unnamed Football Project.
I'm fascinated right now with the National Football League as the mythology of the United States.
Now, let me make this clear--I'm not exactly a football fan.
I mean, I watch it, and I enjoy it, and I know some things about it.
I'm doing a damn good job in my fantasy football league, mainly because I picked Ladainian Tomlinson to get things started.
But as far as sports go, I will always be baseball first.
There's something really specific about the NFL though.
Maybe it's the fact that there's a whole day of the week set aside special for its games.
Maybe it's the Super Bowl.
Whatever.
Professional football plays are icons in a way that very few athletes are these days.
They're larger than life.
They're archetypes.
We see one side of these guys, and they get labeled, and they become almost parodies of themselves through no fault of their own.
Sometimes, a guy like Ocho Cinco has a little fun with that.
And that's spectacular.
And that's what I'm interested in.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Names, Names, Names.
Names aren't easy.
They're essential, but not easy.
I can't get started on a play until I know the names of the characters I'm working with.
Not just the main characters. All the characters.
I don't like the idea of having to change a character's name once I'm in the process of writing the play.
In Welcome to Arroyo's, all the names came early, with the exception of Officer Derek. He was once Officer Lau, back when he was a Hawaiian dude. Later he became--well, I don't remember what he became, but he became something else before he became Officer Derek. I would never have changed his name if he wasn't changing races, and if his name wasn't becoming an essential part of the story.
In every play, the names show up early, and they stick around as long as possible. I've got an unfinished play called Kill Aurora, and I'm kind of convinced that half the reason I can't move forward on the play is that I misnamed somebody in that cast. Not Aurora though.
I'm so in love with with the name Aurora that I named my car Aurora, much as my mom's old Accord came to be known as Molly after I wrote Welcome to Arroyo's. I fall in love with the names of my characters. They work their ways into my skin somehow. Even my special hidden personal e-mail address is derived from a character I created way back in 1998 for an online wrestling game. He'll show up in a screenplay someday soon (it's actually a quarter-finished already), mainly because I can't work that name out of my system.
Guernica got written entirely because of that name. I knew nothing about the play when I started, other than I had this main character named Guernica, and she had this huge, heavy, weighted name, and she had to live up to it. I think she does. Tyree became her sidekick in that play--derived from Tiresias, the prophet who couldn't see. I never mention that in Guernica, but it's the defining quality I always come back to when working with Tyree. She simply can't see.
That's coming to the forefront in Tyree, the sequel to Guernica and the second in what will inevitably be at least a trilogy. I can't see what I'm doing in this play--I'm following Tyree as she leaves Guernica and Slate behind and stumbles in what may or may not be a preordained future. It's fun to be flying blind like this. And maybe it's just a dumb linguistic coincidence, but I really think that the name is what led me to be working like this.
Now here's the whole inspiration for this post, the lead buried seven paragraphs deep: I'm having trouble with character names in Tyree. So far, we've got Woman 1, Woman 2, Woman 3, and Man 1. As evidenced by the names, I know next to nothing about these folks. They're serving their purposes so far though, so I'm kind of happy with them. These names fit the play--it's open to interpretation, it's about perspective, it's not really giving the audience (or me as of yet) a whole lot of answers.
The bigger issue, for me at least, is that I've got a character with a placeholder name for maybe the first time ever. I'm maybe halfway through the play, and the name I've given to Tyree's mother (oooh...there's your gift for reading this far--a hint about the play's actual content!) isn't something that I'm convinced will stick around much past this first draft. I'm calling her Umi right now--fans of Mos Def (or as my dad referred to him right after he met him "Def Mos") will get the reference.
Now don't get me wrong--Umi is a great name. Mos Def's Umi is a charming woman. And the word Umi is kind of gorgeous and powerful. And a Muslim term of maternal endearment, it carries some interesting weight, especially in a play (or a series of plays) that is steeped in some kind of Christan religious background. So it's got a lot going for it.
But it doesn't feel like it fits. As the play's written right now, Tyree never calls Umi anything other than "Ma." I'm not sure Tyree, or any other character, for that matter, is ever going to have a reason to call Umi by name. If not, maybe she'll stay Umi as she is. Otherwise, we'll see how my hand is forced.
Next Post (possibly): Dutton Carver, Milton Fosbury, and The Japanese Ocho Cinco.
They're essential, but not easy.
I can't get started on a play until I know the names of the characters I'm working with.
Not just the main characters. All the characters.
I don't like the idea of having to change a character's name once I'm in the process of writing the play.
In Welcome to Arroyo's, all the names came early, with the exception of Officer Derek. He was once Officer Lau, back when he was a Hawaiian dude. Later he became--well, I don't remember what he became, but he became something else before he became Officer Derek. I would never have changed his name if he wasn't changing races, and if his name wasn't becoming an essential part of the story.
In every play, the names show up early, and they stick around as long as possible. I've got an unfinished play called Kill Aurora, and I'm kind of convinced that half the reason I can't move forward on the play is that I misnamed somebody in that cast. Not Aurora though.
I'm so in love with with the name Aurora that I named my car Aurora, much as my mom's old Accord came to be known as Molly after I wrote Welcome to Arroyo's. I fall in love with the names of my characters. They work their ways into my skin somehow. Even my special hidden personal e-mail address is derived from a character I created way back in 1998 for an online wrestling game. He'll show up in a screenplay someday soon (it's actually a quarter-finished already), mainly because I can't work that name out of my system.
Guernica got written entirely because of that name. I knew nothing about the play when I started, other than I had this main character named Guernica, and she had this huge, heavy, weighted name, and she had to live up to it. I think she does. Tyree became her sidekick in that play--derived from Tiresias, the prophet who couldn't see. I never mention that in Guernica, but it's the defining quality I always come back to when working with Tyree. She simply can't see.
That's coming to the forefront in Tyree, the sequel to Guernica and the second in what will inevitably be at least a trilogy. I can't see what I'm doing in this play--I'm following Tyree as she leaves Guernica and Slate behind and stumbles in what may or may not be a preordained future. It's fun to be flying blind like this. And maybe it's just a dumb linguistic coincidence, but I really think that the name is what led me to be working like this.
Now here's the whole inspiration for this post, the lead buried seven paragraphs deep: I'm having trouble with character names in Tyree. So far, we've got Woman 1, Woman 2, Woman 3, and Man 1. As evidenced by the names, I know next to nothing about these folks. They're serving their purposes so far though, so I'm kind of happy with them. These names fit the play--it's open to interpretation, it's about perspective, it's not really giving the audience (or me as of yet) a whole lot of answers.
The bigger issue, for me at least, is that I've got a character with a placeholder name for maybe the first time ever. I'm maybe halfway through the play, and the name I've given to Tyree's mother (oooh...there's your gift for reading this far--a hint about the play's actual content!) isn't something that I'm convinced will stick around much past this first draft. I'm calling her Umi right now--fans of Mos Def (or as my dad referred to him right after he met him "Def Mos") will get the reference.
Now don't get me wrong--Umi is a great name. Mos Def's Umi is a charming woman. And the word Umi is kind of gorgeous and powerful. And a Muslim term of maternal endearment, it carries some interesting weight, especially in a play (or a series of plays) that is steeped in some kind of Christan religious background. So it's got a lot going for it.
But it doesn't feel like it fits. As the play's written right now, Tyree never calls Umi anything other than "Ma." I'm not sure Tyree, or any other character, for that matter, is ever going to have a reason to call Umi by name. If not, maybe she'll stay Umi as she is. Otherwise, we'll see how my hand is forced.
Next Post (possibly): Dutton Carver, Milton Fosbury, and The Japanese Ocho Cinco.
Saturday, December 02, 2006
The Three Projects We Will Be Following.
1. The Unnamed Football Project -- This is the focus of the blog, at least at this stage, hence the name. This is a brand new play I'm writing, and I've got very little information about what it is going to be when it grows up. I know that it's about professional football. I know that I'm thinking a lot about Mike Vick, Brett Farve, and Chad Johnson and their respective places in the American psyche. I don't know much else.
2. Tyree -- This is a sequel to Guernica, the play that I finished in January of this year. Guernica was a play I wrote without stopping. I didn't allow myself to think much about meaning and morals and structure and process--I just went ahead and pushed myself to finish and see what came out. Tyree is even more along those lines. I have no idea what Tyree is really about. That's not true--I know what I think it's about, but I'm trying to make sure that's not readily apparent in the piece. I'm about 40 pages into Tyree after only about three weeks of working on it. That's kind of a record for me. I aim to finish it in January of '07.
3. Forever Talisman -- This is only half a project. I wrote this screenplay in my senior year of college. I used it to get into graduate school. Then I lost the computer file of it--so I've had nothing to send out on the screenplay front. I'm working on retyping the play off of a hard copy I recently found. Once that's done, I'll be sending it out everywhere I can. Also included in this third category is all the business stuff I'm working on--trying to get all these projects (plus Welcome to Arroyo's and The Elaborate Entrance of Chad Deity) out into the world and make some money off them.
I'll be updating as much as I can.
2. Tyree -- This is a sequel to Guernica, the play that I finished in January of this year. Guernica was a play I wrote without stopping. I didn't allow myself to think much about meaning and morals and structure and process--I just went ahead and pushed myself to finish and see what came out. Tyree is even more along those lines. I have no idea what Tyree is really about. That's not true--I know what I think it's about, but I'm trying to make sure that's not readily apparent in the piece. I'm about 40 pages into Tyree after only about three weeks of working on it. That's kind of a record for me. I aim to finish it in January of '07.
3. Forever Talisman -- This is only half a project. I wrote this screenplay in my senior year of college. I used it to get into graduate school. Then I lost the computer file of it--so I've had nothing to send out on the screenplay front. I'm working on retyping the play off of a hard copy I recently found. Once that's done, I'll be sending it out everywhere I can. Also included in this third category is all the business stuff I'm working on--trying to get all these projects (plus Welcome to Arroyo's and The Elaborate Entrance of Chad Deity) out into the world and make some money off them.
I'll be updating as much as I can.
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