HorrorCon, the Movie: Casting
November 9, 2010
While the marketing of sWitch continues, mainly in the form of soliciting book reviews and updating the blog, I’ve been hard at work gathering my cast and crew for H,tM. That title works for my purposes here, as there could be confusion with the novella, but it will be released simply as HorrorCon. Cue screaming and fainting. Hopefully.
Actually, the story is more emotionally harrowing, and very different from what one might expect of a horror film these days. In fact, I describe it as an indie-horror, as it deals far more with character development and circumstances than blood-soaked peril. It’s actually amusing to think how few traditional elements of the typical horror yarn are in attendance. There is no nudity (although, it is implied), no blood (save a few small drops), and no body count (per se). But what is there is suggested in an exciting and intriguing way. In other words, if I do my job, you’ll feel far more than what you may be used to. Every piece of dialog and action counts, with grave circumstances looming like a yellow moon.
At the moment, I’ve got my hands filled with casting. Back in July I posted a notice on the industry networking site Massify.com, and took out an ad in Backstage magazine. Before I knew it I had nearly 400 resumes and replies in my inbox. Picking through them was fun, but also extremely challenging. There was no way I was going to be able to see all those interested, so how do I pare down my choices? Obviously, those with the best looks for the various roles found themselves in a special folder. Then I checked all corresponding reels and related media. Once I narrowed it down to those who seemed both capable of what I was looking for and legitimately enthusiastic about the project, I found myself drafting an email to over 80 hopefuls. Since I was dealing with 6 principal characters and a handful of minor roles, I still needed to get the number down to a manageable list. Again, what was most important to me was genuine interest in the material. I wanted actors who believed in the project and saw participating as a way to both further their careers and create something special.
After sending the script to a more select list, and few email updates later, I opened the process to video submissions. This allowed those who didn’t have a reel to compete on the same level. They could read from the script, juggle kittens, make a sandwich, or just say hello. And they only had to show me what they wanted me to see. It gave those who I might not be able to meet with in person a distinct advantage in some ways, and could submit as many videos as they liked. Enthusiasm and ability: that’s what I’m looking for. So far, I’ve received a couple and am waiting on a few more.
As it stands, I’m still working on a date to travel to NYC for in-person reads and meetings. The number in contention is much smaller now–down to a few dozen–and I’ll say it’s getting very difficult to decide on some of the roles. Everyone has their strengths, and my mind has been opened to various physical types for the characters. What makes it even more difficult is that I’m dealing with what seem to be some very nice people. Damn them.
There will be a new website/blog once production gets underway, and I’ll include those updates here so those who follow scottStories can take the journey with us. I’ll also be asking for hand-outs. Literally. I’m submitting my proposal to crowd-funding website Kickstarter.com this week, and there will be some juicy rewards for even the smallest donations.
We’re making movies, people, and I’m really very excited. Next update may include my attempts at licensing movie clips and music, and after that, photos and descriptions of shooting locations. I think I’ve found some great places to scare and move the faithful, and by then, a few talented people to help me. For now, I leave you with an example of something I may have done as a boy…
The Man Cracks Down
May 15, 2009
I’m feeling a little heavy. I’ve had precious little time to write (or blog) and it’s as if all the pressing stuff in my existence––real or imagined––has been piling up on my back. Writing often shucks it away, like a thick molting, and I desperately need to shed some skin. Perhaps the weight of the weather is also a factor. From the sky has dropped all manner of water and seed. Pollen covers every exterior surface like Martian effluvium. The trees, heavy with water from the constant rains, sag in suffering, their branches swollen and cracked in places. I wonder if the trees have been furloughed like the rest of us? The impressive oak out my window most surely has taken a hit on its 401k by the way it frowns at me. Hey, tree, at least you’re still growing.
There was held a serious meeting of the employees of my company to discuss the gravity of the seriousness of the grave situation that we and most of the country is seriously in. It’s forced me to spend every minute in every department trying to get us to the point where we’re at least bailing as much water as we’re taking on. I’m losing. We’re losing. But we’re still bailing. And this situation has robbed me of that extra energy and time that I’ve put to good authorly use in the past. I chip away now with a dog paddle work ethic, never getting too far but keeping my head where the air is. I try not to think about money. I don’t want it to direct my efforts.
But I never quit. I don’t know how. I did, once, when I was young and confused about what it all meant, but not now. I’m not as cool as Cool Hand Luke but I’m always good for a smile and a swing. A part of me likes this, I discover. I like the boot on my back. It’s a test. I may lose, but the fight is good. To fight is good. It cuts the fat, leans the muscle, sharpens the wit, and sometimes, if you’re not careful, hardens the heart. But better to set a lock than be raided by an unfeeling malaise. Just keep the key handy.
So picture me, not on my knees, but with back muscles rippling. Ideas lift me, as well. And where once I carved out time to idle, I will write. And it will be better for it. Because what we cannot have, what we must guard against above all, is a failure to communicate. That would be the end of us all.
Perspective time, kiddies. Let’s never forget the lessons of the late, great #37.
Both Sides Now
March 12, 2009
The day is here. The hour is upon us. The moment has arrived. It is time.
I’m leaving for England! And next week, I’ll be in Paris. Bye!
Okay, I’m not going right now, but I will be in a few hours. And it comes at a good time, but then again, any time is a good time for such an adventure. Not only will I be seeing my girlfriend, but I’ll be writing quite a bit over there as I’m bringing my screenplay with me. And thanks to some free, downloadable software, it won’t be a problem picking up where I left off. Writing in Cambridge––I find there are rarely more wonderful things. That is to say, once all the other wonderful things to be done have been done and for a time won’t be done until something else is done first. You follow?
This trip in particular, coming on the heels of some emotionally challenging times in a long, cold winter, has shaken out some unique inspiration like a hidden fruit at the top of an old tree. Instead of digging into another scary book, the story I am writing, called Shelf Life, concerns a group of thirty-something rock musicians living and playing in a small seashore town. Local legends unable to break out, they find themselves facing the ends of their careers before they’ve even begun. As life’s persistent tendrils work their way into their delusions like roots of that old tree into a porous and weathered cellar, they’re forced to confront the future with a naked eye. Naturally, sacrifices loom, ones they’re not yet ready to make, and when tragedy strikes, each is forced to take stock in what they’ve accomplished and either move on, or risk losing it all. The questions I ask are universal ones: “When do dreams die?”, “Do they die or do they just change?”, and possibly, “Is there one last chance to make them happen, even in the smallest of ways?”. It’s a dark little dramedy that I think is funny in a real way. It’s pretty much one of the stories I’m meant to write given my own life experiences, and so far, the going’s been good.
I suppose I like the idea that the very pursuit of a dream is in itself the reward, because what you might find along the way may not have been what you were seeking but also may be more than you expected. If you honestly strive, you’ll honestly receive––something like that. In SL, there’s projection, reflection, rejection, introspection and at least one car ejection. It’s the kind of stuff I’ve seen in my little Jersey bubble, and it’s been tons of fun playing with characters that are basically amalgams of all those good people I’ve both shared the stage with and known off of it. Even some of the names are the same, albeit in most cases switched around. In fact, I may have to ask for forgiveness from some of them, but as they say, it’s better than asking permission, right? Mostly, I think they’ll dig it. If it ever gets made, art might just imitate life and wouldn’t that be a hoot?
There’s something else Shelf Life is about, too, and it’s a little further under the surface where it belongs. Tied to the concept of every moment being precious and how difficult it can be to focus one’s eyes away from an unrealistic future to truly notice the now, is the idea that things––people, most poignantly––are often more than what they appear. It can be harder than school to separate one’s initial impressions from reality, but it’s helpful, and scary, to work through your prejudices and look at something in a totally different way. It’s a bit like cutting a tether, and letting the currents take you to new and uncharted waters. But sometimes, being able to do that is essential to your happiness, or at the very least, your understanding of what this nutty journey is all about.
Take for example the creature at the head of this entry. It looks like a jellyfish but it’s called a turritopsis, and as far as scientists are concerned, it’s the only living thing in the known universe that is “immortal”. That is to say, once it propagates, it returns to its polyp state (above) for another turn. So, in theory, if nothing eats it or it doesn’t wind up in an engine turbine, it could live forever––or at least in a constant state of replay. How does that make you feel? For me, it sounds pretty cool…at first. But you do wonder if there’s even less of a point to turritopsis’ existence than in the existence of its more mortal gelatinous cousins.
Now, take the mayfly. This one is in its nymph stage, and for my money, looks an awful lot like turritopsis. But there’s one major difference you may or may not be aware of (besides not living in the ocean). Instead of me explaining it, why don’t you just have a look at this excellent commercial produced across the pond–– or on the “other side”, as it were––and ask yourself the same question.
Until next time, cheers, au revoir, and enjoy…well, everything.
Big thanks to Gunnsie. YAG.
Looking Back, Ahead, Around…
December 31, 2008
Yes, yes…it’s one of those entries. A typical, end of the year, nostalgically self-absorbed menu of rehash and hodgepodge that seeks to define one’s future by exploring one’s immediate past under the pretense that we have any control over either. And I might as well tell you the end: I’ll find it in me, after much hedging and hand-wringing, to conclude that the trailing twelve months have been learning experiences and that, if I take each painful second to task, 2009 will be, at most, 51% positive. And then I’ll sign off with something wistful, lacing my words with the appropriate mixture of determinism and melancholy so that my caricature here remains slightly tragic, yet ever-so courageous.
Oh, fuck that. To be honest, it’s been a decent year of love, work and wonder and any disappointments seemed to fuel new adventures and fresh outlooks on what’s important and what’s not, what’s going well and what might need a tweak here or there. I tend to enjoy the turning of the new year in all of its predictably garish glory that sets awash over the human genome like so much spilled glitter on a bared, rosy tit. It’s a fist in the air, a solo out; none of it should count for the rest of it but some of it should count for something. Or something.
In any event, I’ll be spending it with a loved one and a few other loved ones and maybe having some exotically flavored dip. I could be persuaded to indulge in a cocktail or two, and if I’m feeling nasty, a bit of Wii bowling. If all goes as planned, I’ll miss the ball dropping due to watching the 8-ball drop into the side pocket, and when informed of the clock’s final tick and rewind, I’ll shake a few hands and plant a doozy on my Weezy. Then I’ll go back to doing what I was doing and considering more dip. And beer. And maybe a shot of mighty fine whisky.
Okay, so maybe a small list is in order: I wrote two books, read a few more, learned a lot, spent time with friends I hadn’t seen in a while, saw some gorgeous English countryside, watched a few horror classics and a couple of newer, non-classics, discovered Alien Worlds and other audio book magic, changed my sideburns, bought some awesome dresses that look fantastic on my woman, cured my cat of diabetes (sort of!), and got hardwood floors. On the negative side, I watched my favorite sports team play like poo with feet and my other favorite sports team win the world series. Wait, this is supposed to be all negative. Okay, let me try again…the economy blows, but Obama won the election. Sorry, one more time…we lost some real talent in the entertainment industry and a lot of good men and women died in a pointless war, but my family is healthy and I’ve got loads of great friends.
Shit, maybe I just can’t do full-bore negative. Let’s call it a character flaw and move on.
In the end, and more germane to this blog, I wrote a lot and did it listening to lots of good music and drinking a fair amount of good beer. I imagine I’ll do much of the same in the coming year, and it is my new goal to achieve the old goal that I failed to achieve in 2008: secure literary representation. Whether I accomplish that or not, I will have written hundreds of thousands of more words, each one in its place, doing work, baring my soul by some equation, and giving me countless hours of satisfaction and joy. In between, I will live my life much as I have done up to this point. The future is hopeful, good people. Keep your eyes open and your ears to the ground and with a little luck we’ll see one another on the other side with smiles, and stories and song. And whisky.
Before I sign off, please click the eye above and give some love to a woman who puts together a blog that is tireless in its offerings of the beautiful, haunting, frightening and purely unusual. Please? Cheers.
Have a wonderful new year, everyone. See you.
The Things I’ve Seen
December 22, 2008
Consider this another one of those “brain dump” entries that throws out a few tidbits in the hopes of getting a few in return. I like to share my viewing and reading experiences with y’all, and would love to hear what you’ve found particularly remarkable in the various entertainment mediums.
Television has been stingy in its offerings lately, and I put that down to holiday schedules. I tend to watch only sports around these times, with the occasional reality show finale. Last night concluded the highly ridiculous “Rock of Love: Charm School” series for this season (and perhaps forever as they tend to mutate into spin–offs rather than pick up where they left off). For those of you who may have missed it, ex-porn star/stripper turned reality show D-list celebrity Brandie M. beat some chick named Destiney. Apparently it came down to her renouncing her old burping and farting ways and swearing to like herself a lot more now that she won the 100k. Sharon Osborne was reduced to tears trying to choose between them, but managed in the end. My cat sneezed. It was magical.
Earlier this week I picked up a passed over classic called The Unseen from a tip I received in the latest issue of Rue Morgue. I was enthralled by the early 80′s attempt to creep me out. Sidney Lassick (formerly known as the mugging and immature Charlie Cheswick in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest) overplays another role as an abusive museum curator who invites three female TV reporters into his home to bathe freely over the product-of-incest son he keeps hidden in the basement; himself played with fierce enthusiasism by character actor, Stephen Furst. You may recognize that name as he was the “zero…point…zero” fraternity brother “Flounder” in Animal House. In most publications where one reads of Lassick or Furst, their roles in this forgotten freak-show are rudely omitted. The Unseen was prophetically named, and that really is a shame. I honestly have a hard time remembering two better horror performances of that decade.
I didn’t stop my trip into horror cinema’s past at 1981, but continued another ten years over the ocean until I reached the first installment of Spanish director Armand De Ossorio’s classic undead quadrilogy Tombs of the Blind Dead. There are several things I loved about this film, not the least of which was learning that at one point when it was released in American drive-in theaters, it was retitled Revenge of the Planet Ape in order to take advantage of the successful monkey franchise of that time. Not a single frame was changed prior to doing this, either (one of which I’ve used as my entry photo above). How fucking awesome is that? Very, is the answer; very fucking awesome. To get a better understanding of the story, sometimes it’s best just to turn it over to a video. While you watch it, marvel at how the ghosts could have easily been any permutation of humanoid and truly understand the genius behind such a shameless marketing ploy. But the 70′s were all about shamelessness, weren’t they? How else would you get that relentlessly bleak tone, that announcer’s voice, those mustaches? If you don’t know the answer, I’ll give it to you: shamelessness and horror are a touchstone of modern storytelling. We’d be lost without it.
To be completely honest, the sets were extraordinary and the ghost effects surprisingly accomplished. What I really miss about horror films of this ilk that was so prevalent back then was the freedom the director had to lay waste to everyone and everything, and then follow it up with a “sequel”. There is no reprieve in TotBD. You’re fucked from the first reel. I’ve put an order in for the rest of the series, and I look forward to sharing my thoughts and tight pants with you in the future.
Other than those two horror staples, I did manage to catch another horror flick on the Sci-fi Channel called Wind Chill. It wasn’t the worst movie I’ve seen on there, and I was actually rather impressed by the dialog––which was a good thing since the entire film plays out with two people trapped in a car in a blizzard. They’re bad luck continues when they begin to see strange things in the surrounded woods.
The best thing about the movie was the performance of the female lead. The actor’s name is Emily Blunt, and she’s starring with Bencio Del Toro in the upcoming The Wolf Man remake, directed by Joe Johnston. He’s behind a lot of the early Star Wars effects and most recently helmed Hildago and Jurassic Park III. It’s a somewhat strange resume for something like this, but the publicity photo I’ve seen is simply beautiful. There was a trailer floating about, but NBC Universal…ahh, found a bootleg.
Yeah, I know it’s probably not cool to post it, but “shameless”, remember? 
Hey, I’d like to wish everyone a very happy holiday season. I may post in the interim, but if I don’t, do try and be the kind of person that would lend a helping hand and an understanding ear. If you can’t, just scare the hell out of them. Sometimes it’s just as important to remind the world of how good they have it. Heh.
Now, off to shine up those queries for a mid-January mailing.
Whatcha Watchin’?
December 1, 2008
Okay, “True Blood” is gone. Time to accept it and move on. I’ve just spent a Sunday night searching for something to watch and ended up loading Cemetery Man into the DVD player. Quality viewing ensued, but it’s difficult to share films with my peeps out there so I need something else to viddy.
I’m thinking of starting “Dexter” over from the beginning cause I never really got into it, and I hear good things about “Supernatural” which lasted a whole thirteen seconds before I switched, so I may give that another shot. The same goes for “Fringe”, which started off strong and then tapered off with certain speed. So far “Estate of Panic” and “The Cha$e” have proven worthy distractions, but I want something with depth, character and fierce antagonists––although, The Cha$e and its live-action video game formula complete with chasing “hunters” entertains me for reasons I’ve still yet to figure out.
I can’t get into “Ghosthunters” cause I think it’s a load of tricky editing bunk, and “Scare Tactics” annoyed severely back in its original inception and I highly doubt that normally very funny Tracy Morgan can resurrect it. “BSG” is still some time away, and I just don’t do anything on the major networks for fear I’ll destroy something out of commercial and mainstream lameness frustration.
So anybody got any tips? I’ve got a few of the film variety, and I think y’all should check them out. Feast, the result of a TV staple of old called “Project Greenlight“, turned out far better than expected. It’s way over the top, gruesome, funny and fresh in a few new places. Henry Rollins wears pink sweatpants at some point. Do you really need to know anything else? I’ve got Feast 2 on the way, and hold out hope that maybe Johnny Lydon will show up in a tutu.
As mentioned, Cemetery Man impresses after not having seen it in a decade and a half. Its humor is sharp and the premise is fun: a lonely man (Rupert Everett) takes care of a cemetery where the dead return to life after 7 days, and he and his thick-skulled grave-digger companion dispatch them with unabashed impunity and even fall in love with icky results. It’s British, too, so they mumble lots of brilliant stuff. You could do worse, believe it.
Okay, the only other thing to report while I’m waiting on some great viewing tips is that I’ve just buttoned up a third revision on my latest novel, and am heading back in to sure up the chapter headings and get my POV paragraphs in sensible order. Oh, and I’ve got to add a few physical descriptions for my characters. I’ve recently received some excellent advice in regards to this convention that I’d taken to bucking. It appears that one reader of my novella would have caught a lot of other stuff I tried to squeeze in if they had a solid hero to latch onto in their mind. So, I’ve reversed my opinion that it’s better to let readers liberally construct their own characters (thanks, Dad!) and decided to add my visions of them. Anyone got their own opinions? If so, do share or be square.
That’s all. Below please enjoy a trailer for an upcoming Thai offering called Deep in the Jungle. It’s about snake women and it’s awesome. Obviously. Cheers and fears!
Happy Thankerween!
November 26, 2008
At last, the next best holiday after Halloween is upon us. Every Wednesday night before Thanksgiving, millions of people across America hit the streets, debauch on cheap wine, make out, get stopped by the cops, lose a shoe, cry about something that happened in high school because they just ran into a person who remembers what happened in high school, dance to a popular song they hate, get called fat, get called “different”, incorrectly claim Native American heritage, laugh at someone less fortunate than they are, and eventually fall asleep in their cars. It’s a tradition that is as old as Thanksgiving itself–-although Thanksgiving probably came first, cause you can’t have an “eve” holiday without the holiday, now can you?
The point of Thankerween, I think, is to be a hideous human being while disguised as someone who is planning to be thankful the following day. Only, the following day, you’re too hungover and surrounded by relatives you haven’t spoken to since the last Thanksgiving to be thankful for anything other than a nap. Still, it’s a holiday that we should embrace because it is truly the most honest one of the bunch. There’s no religious connotation, no costume and no thanking. It’s pure id. It’s the time when kids come home from college and see other kids that have come home from college and both of them bond over knowing everything. It’s a time when you pull on your first sweater and go out in your home town and all the hugs you get are extra pervy. It’s really the scariest time of the year, and personally, I like to ring it in with some horror of the fantasy variety.
Last evening I started watching Black Sunday for the first time (a.k.a. The Mask of Satan). It stars the impossible looking Barbara Steele and is directed by Mario Bava. Let me say that this movie is 100% pure awesome sauce. It’s perfect for celebrating Thankerween (beginning a film on Thankerween Eve only to finish it Thankerween night is also a tradition that dates back almost 24 hours). Anyway, it’s got loads of style, is relentlessly Gothic and gloomy, and you don’t even mind that the accents are all over the place. It’s all about the sets and Barbara Steele’s eyes. I mean, check her out:
Am I right or am I right? Those holes in her face are from an “iron maiden” mask she was forced to wear two centuries earlier when it was discovered that she was all “down with the devil”. Now let me ask you, will you look this cool tomorrow after a few rounds of Jagermeister shots? Right, I didn’t think so.
Anyway, destroy the evening, cop a feel, feel a cop–just do as you like. And if you wake up with “the fear”, take solace in the fact that so many others share that same feeling. And don’t be ashamed for too long; we’re human beings and we’re a hot mess at the best of times, but that’s what makes us wild children of the night and believe me–you wouldn’t want it any other way.
Now, before I go to watch the second half of my movie, I would like to leave you with what I can only assume is a person embracing the full wondrousness of Thankerween while deciding what to wear for the evening. Ladies and gentlemen, a moment of Zentertainment you won’t soon forget. Enjoy, and good luck.
HorrorCon – Sunday
June 6, 2008
So this is it, the final chapter of HorrorCon. I have to say it’s been really enjoyable doling these out to you, even if I had little idea how many of “you” there actually were. Regardless if there was even one person indulging my little frightfest, I figured I would learn a lot about writing and I certainly did. Among those things that I will take from the experience is a need to dig deeper into character and simplify plot. Not that complex plots aren’t valid in storytelling, because when done well they can be very satisfying for both the writer and the reader and I think I have some samples in my portfolio that represent that. But in doing HorrorCon, I was able to tap into a rich vein in my own writing repertoire that I hadn’t fully explored. I must say it felt easy at first, as I loved my characters and had been really looking forward to relaying in a narrative way my experiences with horror conventions. I do love those odd events, I have to say. And as a setting for a book, film or TV series they seemed ripe for the taking, so I took them. But as I went along and reviewed each chapter for publishing, I realized it wasn’t nearly as easy as I first thought. Every time I went back and read them, I found more mistakes and omissions as well as fat, all of which I tried to add or cut as best as I could. And I know I’ll still be doing that for many months to come.
Anyway, thanks to everyone who did visit and take the ride, and I hope that some of you will also take the time to give me feedback on both the story and the twice weekly chaptering experience. And please be honest. As I said from the start, this was my very first attempt at writing a serious story in prose and I know I’ve still got a ton to learn. What I know for sure is that I will do another at some point, and that I found the entire experience therapeutic, rewarding and fun as all hell.
One last thing before I send you off to my black Sabbath. The actress I’ve chosen to play Eliza today goes by the name of Katherine Pawlak. Unless you’re a big fan of hoaxy internet based soap operas that deal with teens and the occult I doubt you’ve ever heard of her. However, I have a feeling that someday you will. A few months back, if you remember, I entered a film concept contest called Ghost in the Machine that was being sponsored by a relatively new creative networking website called Massify.com. They were looking for a story idea that they could produce for something called Horrorfest. I didn’t win – obviously or I just might have mentioned it 
– but the exercise of putting together the pitch video really kick-started my writing in some new and exciting directions. Anyway, after the idea was chosen, they then accepted video auditions from a slew of amateur actors (and some pros, it has to be said) and registered visitors were permitted to vote for the leading guy and girl to be in the film. Katherine got my vote, and went on to win. Did I choose her because her look fit my character Eliza almost perfectly? I might have, but it wasn’t the case. She was head and shoulders above her competition, and if you check out her screen tests, maybe you’ll see what I mean. So congratulations Katherine, and good luck.
Now, let’s do this. Sit tight, dear readers, and feast your eyes on HorrorCon – Sunday:
Saturday night saw quite a bit of action for our heroes. After some tense negotiations, it finished up with a bit of a scuffle. Yes, there was some blood spilled, but at least one heart now pumped with a strange new hope and strength. Still, there are a few details yet to be resolved. And what now for our black butterfly? Click the final chapter and get your answers. To collect all nine, click here!
HorrorCon – Sunday available by request only.
HorrorCon – Saturday (part one)
May 20, 2008
Surprise! I’ve decided since it’s rainy outside and May 20th (2003) is the anniversary of the final televised episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, that I would get you all started on the Saturday chapters of HorrorCon earlier than scheduled. However, there will still be another chapter for this Friday, plus some info on a new story idea that is in competition with my “coyote” concept for next project to tackle. It’s my answer to the numbing popularity of slasher and “torture porn” flicks, but with a bit of family values thrown in. Yes, it will be delightfully twisted. And if you liked the bat shit madness behind Welcome to Cydonia, you are seriously going to dig this.
We are fortunate to have the decidedly natural, almost anti-Hollywood gifts of actress Sarah Rivas to lend to our character of Eliza today. I caught Sara this weekend on the Independent Film Channel in a film called Manic that did the festival circuit circa 2001 and starred a handful of really talented young actors such as Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Zooey Deschanel, and Elden Henson. Their performances benefited greatly by portraying deeply troubled teens doing time in the juvenile wing of a mental institution under the tutelage of the incredibly committed – both in his character and his approach to the role – Don Cheadle. It’s a pretty engaging and indicting portrait of the darker aspects of today’s youth culture, which is something that interests me a great deal and informs a lot of my work. Anyway, it’s a pleasure to have Ms. Rivas join us today and so as not to take up too much of her time, let’s get to the story:
Eliza and Dmitrije greet the morning in their usual (or is that “unusual”?) way as each attempt to get on with the busy day. However, both find a way to avoid their respective tasks at hand, and a dark room makes for a “chance” encounter – the results of which reveal a few more painful secrets.
HorrorCon – Saturday (part one) available by request only.
A Short Break with Lloyd…
April 8, 2008
Just having a quick drink with my old friend Lloyd the Bartender and telling him about the progress on my newest story, HorrorCon, which is about a young girl with a tragic past who meets a mysterious author at the horror convention where she’s vending. Don’t want to be a dull boy, you know. That could be bad. Anyway, feel free to listen in:
Me: “Say, Lloyd, how about a joke and a drink. I’ll let you pick the order.”
Lloyd reaches under the counter and produces a half-empty bottle of Kilbeggan Irish Whiskey, which he understands to be my favorite. I ignore the coincidence that it was right there in front of him as he pours about three fingers worth into a rocks tumbler.
Lloyd: “I’m all ears, Mr. Norton.”
And he kind of is, if I’m being honest. Lloyd bears a striking resemblance to Joe Turkel, who played “Eldon Tyrell”, owner and founder of the Tyrell Corporation which produced ass-kicking replicants in my all time favorite film, Blade Runner. Maybe that’s why I visit him when I need a sanity break. I also accept that it may also be because he’s the only one there. This, I decide, is not important.
Me: “Alright, Lloyd, I’ll tell you one of my favorites that also happens to be mercifully short: what’s brown and sounds like a bell?”
Lloyd: “I would say ‘a brown bell’, but then, that wouldn’t be very funny, would it?”
Me: “No, Lloyd, it would not. The answer is dung. Get it?”
Lloyd: “Yes, I do. Very funny, sir. Will that be all?”
Me: “No, Lloyd, that will not be all. I actually wanted to tell you that I’ve just finished the first of what I can now see will be a total of three acts of my story, which ran exactly…and I mean exactly…thirty-one pages. Since the events take place at a weekend horror convention, I’ve entitled these acts…wait for it, now…Friday, Saturday and Sunday. What do you think?”
Lloyd: “I think that makes perfect sense, sir. Might I say that it sounds interesting, as well.”
I empty the tumbler by one-third, a sip I’m calling “Friday”, in honor of…well, you should know that. I study Lloyd’s eyes – those overly large, always moist, soil brown orbs – for the slightest betrayal. He’s been a bartender forever, and blowing smoke up someone’s ass for a good tip is pretty much their number one stock in trade. But I’m a writer and I like to think I know people. I figure Lloyd would let me down easy rather than lie to make few bucks. It’s either because of that or the fact that I don’t really care at this point if he’s playing me that makes me keep going.
Me: “Thanks, Lloyd. I have to say I’m pretty happy with it. In fact, I woke up in the middle of the night with an idea to make the three acts also represent the core of what happens. It breaks down like this: thoughts, talk, then action. Makes it easier to wrap my head around the narrative, you follow?”
Lloyd: “A little, Mr. Norton. I’m not a writer.”
I knew it. He’s a straight-shooter. I crown that realization by dispatching the Saturday third of my whiskey.
Me: “That’s alright. Didn’t mean to go over your head, there. Anyway, I’m starting to realize what the story may be about. Not what happens, you understand, but why I’m writing it. The theme, you could say.”
Lloyd: “Themes tend to be personal, don’t they?”
Me: “Personal? What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
Lloyd: “Nothing, sir. Don’t listen to me. Like I said, I’m not a writer.”
Me: “No, no…go on. What’s some little girl who meets some old guy who might be a vampire and they sort of relate to each other in ways that correspond to their secret anguish and inability to cope with life in the wake of a horrible event have to do with me?”
I hold up the glass.
Me: “I’m feeling no pain!”
I throw the last of the Kilbeggan back and Lloyd gives me that fucking look that he always gives me when I lose my cool. I can’t quite make out what it means, but it always makes me feel like I’ve given something away the way only a good whiskey and a good listener can get me to do. I’m not mad at him, really. I guess I’m mad at me. I was doing so well, there. I thank him with a counterfeit smile and slide the vanquished tumbler into his hand. I’m ready to take on Saturday, I tell myself.
Anger always helps.
