A Very Special Day
December 15, 2008
Hello, all. As you may have gleaned from the title of this post, today is a very special day for me. You see, some time ago I picked this day, December 15th, 2008, as my deadline for securing literary representation.
Most of my time leading up to this day was spent writing and filling my portfolio with “product”. In the beginning, I was bold and ambitious, drafting huge titles such as B.L.O.O.M., a five night miniseries about humankind being scanned into android containers in order to escape a self-destructing planet earth and continue the race in the unfriendly climates of outer space. I was sure it was better than anything being offered on the Sci-Fi channel at the time, and whether I was wrong or right remains a mystery. If one were to deduce from my success and the success of those scribes responsible for classic fare such as “Yeti” and “Mansquito”, I would have been proven quite wrong. As it was, I could only contact a small bunch of agents as many that might have found it interesting required I be represented already; a quandary I’ve yet to get my head around. Anyway, it was too much for anyone to accept for a new writer, or such was my conclusion. Maybe it was just bad. Who knows? But it remains in a drawer where it is likely to stay until human beings really do need to escape the planet–which, if I may borrow a little cynicism to cheer me up, could be soon from the looks of things.
After B.L.O.O.M., I began to pen wildly: big budget horror trilogy here, complex, semi-animated dark coming-of-age tale there. Getting smart–or so I thought–I eventually wrote a screenplay for something that I thought fit the budget of most of those producers one finds on Inktip.com (where I listed all of my titles for $50/ea). It was a small movie, but scary in a subtle, unsettling sort of way. It was, I thought, tightly scripted, yet loose enough to include a director’s touch. It pushed the moral envelope, as I’m wont to do, but I suffered great pains to reset the compass at the end in order to include a larger slice of American movie-going public. As Hollywood cranked out remake after remake, I dared them with my story of false redemption by the sea. I even made a video about it for a contest that I didn’t win. But no matter, some projects you believe in no matter how many signs seek to convince you otherwise.
And then I got a call.
It was an honest to goodness Hollywood agent. I’ll never forget it, as it was a dreary Sunday night and I was already heading for bed. It was damn near the greatest phone call I’d ever received at that time slot: she fawned over my style and craft; she loved the characters, right down to their clever little names; she got all my inside jokes and was picking Hollywood A-listers in her head for the roles. She even shared my interest in characters with skin color anomalies! And then, after two hours, my phone’s battery began to alert me that it was about to cut off. She said no worry, we would talk later. In a few days, I think she said.
Errr…no. It was never, actually. A few reassuring emails and another screenplay sent post-haste to her door later, the romance was over. I’m not sure if it was the second screenplay I sent her (complex, semi-animated, dark coming-of-age thing) or something entirely unrelated to me and my writing. People, as it turns out, are human. And humans have shit come up all the time. But instead of getting bitter, I took the little jolts of confidence that the original phone call sent through me and decided to write something new; something that seemed a surefire sale, but without compromising the subject matter and style inherent in my other “product”. This one would be something I could almost budget over the phone, and I even had a high concept teaser to go with it. “Lost in Transfusion” I called it, in an attempt to excite another to call with dreams of pushing an indie horror film that boasted an elegant, Sofia Coppola vibe but with a large toe in the vampire zeitgeist pool. It was set at a three-day horror convention in a hotel and everything (timelock!). Young girl with tragic past meets old author dude with a horrific solution. So excited was I–and undaunted by my rejection–that I started immediately penning a character sketch of the main character, Eliza.
Two months later I had a novella. Yeah, I wasn’t feeling burned about Hollywood at all. Noooo.
But you know what, I loved it when it was finished. Still do. And it got me to do my next book, which I’m buttoning-up just now. And it seems I’m starting back at the beginning when I was writing about subjects that you will not easily find on the Border’s front tables. In fact, just yesterday I took a stroll around the popular bookstore franchise and was a little hard-pressed to work out where this new story would fit. Horror was close, but not quite right. And up front next to the new offering from the guy who wrote The Kite Runner was a stretch too far, for sure. Where do the genre-benders go? Do we have a special club where we smoke cigarettes and say clever things until the wee hours? Is their a movement about, because I’d really like to know. At the moment I’m calling it “high-camp, dark fiction”. I could just as easily call it an “over-the-top thriller with horror elements”. A part of me would love to just slip a few next to a Martha Stewart cookbook, and see how it goes over. Anyway, the queries for this one are in production, and at least I get a chance to say there’s a message under all that romp. We’ll see, won’t we?
Anyway, today’s professional specialness is running a little low. I don’t think I’ll get that call, but I’m likely to get a few others. And what is always as sure as “shit on your shoe”, I’ll be writing and querying and pushing the boundaries as I see them until it’s time to go home. Because possibly worse than never becoming a serious author in my lifetime is becoming one writing stuff that betrays those early efforts where I was bold and undaunted by the industry, the economy, remake hysteria and being just another guy in the middle of nowhere who thinks he has something to say. I think I always want to be that guy.
It still wouldn’t hurt to get another Sunday phone call that doesn’t go where you think it might, though. But like so many journeys a writer takes, if he takes them for the right reasons, where you end up may prove well worth visiting.
Rest in peace, Ms. Page.
Give me a ticket for an airoplane…
September 14, 2007
…I ain’t got time to take no fast train/Oh, the lonely days are gone/I’ll be comin’ home/My baby she wrote me a letter…
Great song, great singer, great photo. Actually, Joe looks a little like the “Child Catcher” from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang in this. And, if I’m being honest, a little like Bruce Springsteen circa ’75 moments after being infected by the 28 Days/Weeks Later virus. And speaking of letters, I just sent out approximately 32 of them to a very specialized list of agencies that I actually, truly think would be interested in representing me. What am I expecting? Nothing. What am I hoping? That just one will find the logline and pitch interesting enough to ask to read the screenplay. Just one.
But like I said, I’m expecting nothing. Hollywood is interesting in that the industry appears to have very little tolerance for a learning curve in unrepresented writers, yet each one is looking for something different. If you don’t believe me, go ahead and research the correct way to write query letters. Every new thing you read will make you think the opposite of the last thing you read. Some say, “keep it short and sweet, they don’t have time for you, you’re annoying them” and others say, “make sure you start off with something clever, and include a synopsis and a resume and say something interesting about yourself”. Uh…okay. Whatever you choose, you will undoubtedly read something after all the letters are on their way that will keep you up at night thinking you’ve ruined your chance. Months, maybe years of work on a labor of love has all gone down the toilet because you failed to play by the rules, possibly from the first word. Believe me, I know. This has happened to me. I was up at four in the morning wishing I could have them all back. It sucks, and I look a little like Joe’s t-shirt up there this morning.
But it’s the way it is.
I also entered The Collection: Legend of Fortunate Son into two contests that have among their rewards guaranteed exposure to various agencies. To be totally honest, I don’t even care about the cash prizes and can’t remember a single figure that I skimmed pertaining to them. Why? Cause I want to write so badly for a living and tell stories that may end up on the big screen that I would use any money I won to buy a reading. I really would. Even if I was starving and had holes in my flip-flops. And if I do get lucky enough to reach a finalist position and get some cash, that’s exactly what I will do. I will come here and offer it up as a reward for anyone who can guarantee me a reading from someone on my list. I’m sure I’ll need a little proof that it’s legit, but if it is, the cash is yours and you can do what you want with it. In fact, I may not wait until I win. Name your price. Seriously. Do I sound desperate? Maybe. But in this game, there’s very little that separates desperation from intelligent self-marketing.
I should mention that there have also been some positives that have come out of this arduous process. For one, I’ve read a lot of loglines belonging to properties that have either been sold or have won contests and I can safely say that while I feel in tune with the zeitgeist, I also feel like I’ve something fresh to say and a style all my own. This may work against me at times, but I have to think that once I’m in the door it will work in my favor. The truth is, it’s who I am. I write from the core of my creative bones and I love doing it. I would rather do that and die having not achieved my dream than find limited success in “sheep’s clothing”. Notice I also said “limited”. Sometimes you have to blend in before you break out. And as I said in my last entry, I think I’ve got a story that will help me do just that. As for other positives, I guess I simply like challenges and competition. I like what it does to me. I like to be hungry.
Before I sign off and begin amassing a new list of agencies that might be interested in Outside Men (a story that I have developed a new appreciation for after reading some of the recent horror offerings) allow me to direct you to the official website for Sony Pictures new release “30 Days of Night“. It might be Mac only, but give it a shot. The design is gorgeous and effectively frightening. And there’s a single/multiplayer game on there that is actually quite fun. Also, check out the exclusive 18+ scene and unrated trailer. Holy shit, this looks good. And in case you didn’t know, the film was optioned from a 3 book series graphic novel, and on that front, I may have some good news for my next entry.
Make no mistake. One way or the other, my baby’s gonna write me a letter.
Outside Men
June 14, 2007
A three-part horror story about the survival and redemption of one of Hitler’s treasured youth, set after the fall of the Third Reich.
This feature screenplay started with an idea to make a horror trilogy much in the same vein as multi-chaptered films like Creepshow. I was drawn to the ability to hit on three different ways to chill an audience, instead of clinging to the same myth for the entire story. But instead of having my host be a creepy grindhouse usher or crypt keeper, I weaved the breaks in between into a story of their own, connected circumstantially to the three major segments of the narrative.
I think it works, and it was fun to try and up the scare ante as I went along while sticking to the theme suggested in the title: that some men on the fringes of life become skilled adaptors, and have hidden strengths and gifts that can always see them to freedom. The title also alludes to the source of terror in the third act.
Logline: A former member of The Hitler Youth recounts horrifying tales of monsters and supernatural evil during his journey across Europe immediately after the war.
That’s the snappier version, written to appeal to a more commercial mindset. The longer one allows for a wider breadth of summary…
Logline: A former Nazi youth member receives an appraisal of his missing and assumed to be dead partner’s property after their bayside tavern full of exotic artifacts is destroyed in a storm. While the skeptical insurance agent works to uncover the mystery, the old man recounts fantastic tales of horror of their journey after the war that may include clues to his partner’s disappearance.
Which is better? Dunno, really. The one that gets the read, I guess.
Pitch/Synopsis: Outside Men is set up as a trilogy of stories told by our main character to a skeptical insurance adjustor who is intent on discovering the truth behind the missing partner. If he does, he believes it’ll make his services more attractive to larger and more lucrative contracts, plus he can put it to what he considers to be the more unappreciative and unsavory members of our society. His more down-to-earth brother, a rugged, commercial diver, is at odds with him over his version of the “value” of things but is often outfoxed in conversation about it. This obvious strain in their relationship allows our main character to exploit it to his purposes, and he lets rip with tales of undead concentration camp prisoners, vampires on a trans-Siberian railway journey to hell, and finally, vengeful spirits know as Outside Men still haunting and protecting a stretch of war-torn beach in the bowels of the Aleutian Island Chain. The structure recalls popular anthology horror films like Creepshow and Tales from the Crypt, however the individual stories are all part of another suspenseful and concurrent, larger mystery. Thematically, his experiences tell a story of a man born into one of history’s most evil chapters and his long, arduous journey to redemption. The question is, how much of what he says is the truth that saved his soul, and how much is created to save his skin?
