The Horror…the horror…
December 21, 2011
I didn’t do well with sleeping, last night. I woke up an hour after drifting off, switched on the TV, switched it off, switched it on again, switched it back off, and finally turned the fan up so high that I could hear the wind rushing past my ears. I often need cold temperatures to sleep, as if going into hibernation. Maybe my brain atrophies just enough to allow my inner worlds to recede into the ether. Maybe, I just need a good snuggle. Dunno.
I also had quite a bit on my mind with the holidays returning and the completion of principal photography for HorrorCon. Have I forgotten to get someone a gift? Have I forgotten to shoot something? There’s that gift card I wanted for a couple peripheral members of the family. There’s that stock photography I need to stand in place of something beyond the scope of my budget and time constraints. Will both or either suffice?
What the hell am I doing with Yellow Horse? Can it ever be more than a shingle? Its conceit is that a collection of quality products can shine light on one another as they become known, growing the brand, and filling the gaps caused by having not spent years of networking in the publishing and entertainment industries, industries that keep changing. What does it mean to place a book or market a film, anymore? What if a better than average film draws attention to a brilliant book, which in turn draws attention to an eerily adorable animated series. Can YHP&P be a golden pot of projects from which larger, more connected entertainment entities can mine?
Should I sell my condo at the shore? I love the inside, but I’m no longer wired for associations and their by-laws upon by-laws that seek to prevent all conflict with adults who cannot act responsibly with an intact intellect? How much longer can I allow a few dozen people to legislate my peace of mind? Mandatory annual inspections? Too many damn noses for too little whiffs of common sense, if you ask me.
Christ, I’ve got lots of driving to do in the next few weeks.
Then there are a few new projects I want to start. I think. I want to draft a sequel to HorrorCon that begins right where the original ends. I’ve got three book ideas, one a non-fictional account of the ten months it required to shoot the film. I think I want to call it My First Rodeo: A Year-Long Account of Indie Filmmaking. I also like Herding Cats: The Unlikely Capturing of HorrorCon the Film. Had thirty, terrifying days in the span of three months shooting a film in several busy, public spaces cooked my brain too much to focus on what would come after? Possibly. It could be that being “in over my head” had become what life feels like, which would explain my suicidal compulsion to complete two novels of fiction, with at least one in mind as a screen adaptation, all in the span of a year. The Thunders tells the story of a lonely, phobic writer who, while researching a little-known tribe of demon-battling Native Americans who used evil spirits to fend off imperialist settlers, follows too closely in their tracks. In doing so, he winds up caring for a desperate crush who he’s inadvertently helped fall into demonic possession. Another, The Unveiling, takes us back to the turn-of-the-20th Century when the Impressionists were making their mark on the art world and introduces us to a mysterious Picasso that may hold some important clues to a series of horrendous murders happening around Paris and New York.
And what about sWitch? Shouldn’t I adapt that one, too?
And I still haven’t experienced my “ahhh” moment, or that moment of blessed relief after a film’s final scene is wrapped. We shot it, I remember that. I remember a congratulatory hug from my leading man, and holding my leading lady while she expressed how things would be so “weird” from here on out. There would be no shoots to look forward to – or to fret over – in the foreseeable future. Then I remember packing up and the smack of bitterly cold air as I left the hotel. But I don’t remember feeling much of it. We wrapped very late after a very long day, so maybe that’s why I only rolled into a strange exhaustion and am now sitting here trying to piece it together a full ten days later.
There’s also still so much to do. I now have to prove that I knew what I was doing when I was forever pointing and instructing. Of course, I’m not sure I really did know. I went wholly on instinct, an instinct that I’d honed from nearly forty years of movie watching. At one point I was digesting three a day. It helped to lose weight when I was a wrestler. Instead of dreaming about food – any kind of food – I would enter the dreams of films. I did have my experience as an industrial video producer to help support some of my assumptions. Having been through some grueling shoots covering tens of thousands of square feet in a single day did teach me to move fast, yet carefully. How careful was I? I guess I’ll find out soon enough. One thing I’ve learned from my research is that, regardless of the name making the film, few have professed to know what they were doing when they were making it. That helps a little.
So, I find myself in a languorous sort of limbo. I’m tired, but my brain is busy. That seems to best describe my life up to this point. Oh…almost forgot the ticking bomb in the closet. That’s what I call the force that pushes me to finish these projects before some form of disease catches up with me. If one doesn’t in premature time, I’m thinking car crash. I’ve had my share, and a frayed nerve somewhere in my medulla feels I’m due. It’s troubling to drive, to be honest. I tap my finger whenever a car passes too close to the median stripe, or if a car rolls up too quickly at a cross road. There have been no fewer than three occasions in the last month where I’ve either had to lock up my brakes or swerve thanks to the thoughtless driving of others, and I sense the sickening moment is getting closer. Or is that just my mind, drafting another tale? How I loathe being between projects/tasks/opinions…holidays.
Have I mentioned all the driving I’ve got to do in the next few weeks?
And yet, I am happy. My kind of happy.
Now, off to locate two, 2-terabyte drives. I woke in a panic this morning realizing that a few of my shoots hadn’t been backed-up in triplicate.
Conventional Wisdom
March 23, 2011
There was a moment during the Monster Mania 17 shoot where I felt the sharp, sharp slap of folly. My stomach knotted and dropped to the floor, and I nearly cracked into the kind of hysterics brought on by the sudden realization that I had miscalculated my risk by too great a distance. The exact moment of which I write is captured forever in the picture you see above. In a way, it was freeing. The jig was up. My tip-toe dance on and around eggshells would finally devolve into a madcap snow angel on the hilariously hideous carpeting.
To be fair, I wouldn’t have been completely surprised. What I was trying to do looked clinically insane to those who hadn’t spent months and months carefully planning it, and I was told as much by one of my very own actors. It actually reaffirmed my faith in her good sense. Going into a live convention unannounced to the public and attempting to shoot a feature film with everyone and everything as my multi-million dollar backdrop is the kind of idea that usually withers into dust whilst nursing the hangover caused by the bender that brought it on. But like so many projects I’ve undertaken, it made perfect sense to me. All I had to do was execute the plan to perfection, which meant directing a crew of almost 40 people for three days to never put a foot wrong lest we be escorted out by the authorities. Easy.
Anyway, the moment in question involves a scene where my main character throws her car keys to a friend on the other side of her vendor table. This friend is in the process of shooting her for his documentary, which meant he had to read his lines from behind the person running the camera. The first take went fine. Said keys hit him square in the chest and he fumbled them to security. The second take, however, saw the keys go over his head and onto the vendor table behind him; a table run by some very nice people who had already spoken with me about blocking their traffic with my sound cart. We’d been there for too long a time, and their angelic patience was quickly running out. When I heard the keys hit, well…I did that.
The folks at Fortress Press, Inc. had woken up very early in the morning and loaded their car full of two $300 tables worth of merchandise and driven to Cherry Hill, NJ from Lemoyne, PA with the only expectation being a possibly challenging task of making back their money in three days of noisy convention atmosphere. Now, they had a friggin’ movie being shot in front of them. We all know how most people react to seeing a camera: they run. One serious complaint to the hotel staff and we were history. So what did they do? They let us do another take, with the assurance it was the last. It was, and we got what we needed.
I’ve written a film about a young woman suffering the awful repercussions of the black underbelly of human nature, and I’d been rewarded by human nature of a very different kind. Sure, I promised Fortress Press, Inc. a mention on the film’s website and in the final credits, but they didn’t have any more assurance that would be good for business than the sudden arrival of some half-decent, weekend weather. I was humbled, and continue to be as I work my way through this somewhat daunting process. The question remains, however, if being rescued by the good graces of others (who, frankly, must have also been intimidated by the notion of shutting us down) will bring us the kind of luck we’ll need to carry us through the production, or help create a monster that will put me in deep emotional and financial debt for the rest of my life.
You can’t turn back after one head slap, can you? We look to shoot again in mid April. And if you would, please check out our blog, Facebook, and Kickstarter page. We could use a little more good nature, and again we promise to give back in kind.
What do…
February 24, 2011
…Edward Furlong, Erin Grey, Crypie Clown, wolves eating humans, and “black man naked” have in common? Well, apparently they’ve all been keeping you busy while I was gone. See, those are the top searches that have kept my blog active while it was…inactive. At least they’ve stopped searching for “naked freckles”, although maybe I should speak for myself. There could be loads of naked freckly people out there quite happy to be sought after.
So, very quickly: been busy with the film, which is coming along. Principal photography begins March 11th at the Monster Mania convention, and while it’s going to be very tricky, I think I have all eventualities covered. It’s been a constant quest for permissions, really, and I’m nearly there with them all. I play over the shoot in my mind continuously, visualizing maneuvers in response to every obstacle. In all cases, there’s a deal being made: promises of rewards, credits, screen time, and, of course, straight-up cash; which I should have just enough of since the line of credit against my house went through. All I need is my pledge drive to be successful. Speaking of…
…on March 18th I will be asking the public at large to help me fund my film via Kickstarter.com. There are rewards in store for those who give, not to mention the warm feeling in your scary bone that you’ve helped make a very unique, indie-horror film happen. Love in advance to all of those who reach out, and I’ll be posting the direct link very soon.
In other news, sWitch continues to enthrall. Be sure to check out the blog for reviews and mostly daily updates of its progress and peeks into the darker windows of this beautiful planet. We have fun over there. Won’t you join us? The Amazon page has even more reviews, so do have a look.
I leave you with one of my favorite songs of all time. See you…
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…
sWitch is ON!
September 14, 2010
Well, hello there, literary sport’s fans…(stretches)…been awhile, eh? That’s not to imply that I’ve been idle. Oh no, I’ve been very hard at work and some of it is actually paying off. Let’s do a quick run-down:
1) My novel sWitch is looking tone and fit and you will be able to order it forthwith. I have to say I’m thrilled with end product, thanks to the very accomplished design work of my Yellow Horse Publishing partner Lisa de Araujo, our super-talented staff editor Louise Woods, and trees. Why trees? Because without them, there’d be no paper and we’d be too busy wheezing to read. But since there are trees, lots of them, there’s a ton of fun info at the official website, and you may want to subscribe to our blog for even more frivolity–the dark kind, natch.
2) I’ve also posted a casting notice at Backstage NY for the Hi-def web series adaptation of my novella HorrorCon. For a project that only promises deferred pay, the response has been a little overwhelming. Sure, most actors are just trying to read for as many projects as they can, but I got some personal notes, too, and they were encouraging to say the least. The script is coming along swimmingly, too. I’m having a blast keeping in mind my limitations with location and such, which I always believed made for better writing. I hope to have a solid first draft ready to distribute in the next two weeks.
3) Let me say that, while this is the third project report, it’s by no means an indication of importance. Teapott Fables had a restful summer, but it’s back in full swing with my partner Teddy working up some gorgeous frames for an iPad book that will serve as the companion piece to the animation (which won’t be ready by Halloween, sadly). But the book technology allows for some magical enhancements, and it’s another Yellow Horse project that will help lift the imprint into the rarefied air of major publishing and production player.
4) My next novel is in the process of being outlined, and it’s another dark story with a colorful personality called The Fold. Not to give too much away, but it involves a Yellow Horse writer under contract and his experiences with dermisted beetles, a colonial journal, Indian spirits, and the writer’s very unlucky, lifetime crush. As a “non-fiction” horror story, it will deliver the scares that will make you question every little noise in your house. As a metaphor for dependent, yet loving relationships, it’ll take you on an exploration into the concepts of obsession, addiction, and the possibilities and limitations of selfless love. I’m such a romantic.
That’s all for now. I’ll be updating more regularly about the above and sundry now that our little sWitcheroo is able to fly on its own. There are many promotional activities ahead, however. Ain’t nobody knocking down our doors to get at our goods just yet. But as Barbara learned at that dark and hungry lake, the power of belief knows no bounds. Now, let’s dig The Black Angels.
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.
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.
Feel Good Satanism
October 3, 2008
Well, maybe that’s going a little overboard, but I think the concept would make a funny commercial for sWitch if it was ever made into a film. And if it were, the Drive-In would be where it belonged. I’m not much for big, posh, multiplex theaters crowded with cardboard adverts and noisy arcades. I like to hear the projector or the crackle of a dangling speaker, not some idiot on a cell phone. And with your date in a tube top and a six-pack of Michelob in the trunk, what could be better? You could even hit the diner later and unscrew the salt shakers.
I’m not that huge a retro-fan – okay, I certainly am, but I like to think that I recognize the truly special in contemporary popular culture – but there seems to be a commercial agenda to broaden the cultural perspective so that the entire family can join in on the fun with their wallets. I’m always hearing that we’re “getting what we want”, so much so that I’m starting to wonder a) how they know what we want, and b) if they’re not just telling us what we want. To be honest, I want to know what you as a filmmaker/writer/artist wants and I want you to try and convince me of your point of view. In other words, not so much “here it is!” as “check it out!”. We’re so focused on raising the bottom line that very little is a surprise anymore. In the end, I suspect, we lower the standard for our imaginations. No wonder there’s so much attention being paid to remakes and retreads. How something from 50 years ago is still relevant has less to do with new effects and cultural signifiers than where we are now in terms of the human animal.
The story of The Ducharme family was, on the surface, a twisted and sexy romp that attempted to turn modern horror paradigms on its ear. Believe me, that sounds far more pretentious than it really is. I just wanted things to “switch” in the middle, and have the hunter sort of become the hunted and mess with our ideas of who is really the bad guy and so forth. If that’s enough for you, and I’m fine if it is, you can stop right here and enjoy the picture. The likes of which you, too, can make by going here. But if you’re in the mood for the real pretentious stuff, read on.
sWitch is my comment on the culture quandary caused by a commercialized, cookie-cutter caricature of the American Dream. I had grown tired of “feel good” narratives that propped up the wholesome brand while basically pretending that our darker instincts didn’t exist. The practice is the entertainment equivalent of a local beauty pageant. And with entertainment making enormous profits by raising our children these days, I believe we as a society addicted to entertaining ourselves are fixing them with overly simplified versions of what they should expect of their values, bodies, minds and the world. While I strongly believe there is room for low nuance and high sentiment in what we might dub mainstream recreation, fucking hell, have you seen an episode of America’s Got Talent, lately? Why can’t we mix family values with bold and truly creative expression of which diversity is not a challenge of otherness but intrinsic to our strength? Where’s our Adam’s Family, Hollywood?
At this point, there appears a stagnating divide that perpetrates a culture war within our own families. In essence, we’re at war with ourselves in modern American society and therefore we’re at war with everyone outside of it. We’re covering up, painting over, and sublimating our true nature –– a nature that is open to change in a variety of forms –– and the results are social and political constructs that support conflict, division and ill mental health (much of it organized under a rotting belief system).
I’m not trying to spur a revolution with rock and roll literature, and I actually believe that real cultural growth needs a balanced view of social propriety and experimentation. In fact, what fun would it be if there were no inherent conflicts in human social nature? It’s awesome to have a Bogeyman unite us, as long as we’re all clear on where he comes from and do our due diligence to determine what exactly is “real”. With sWitch I was definitely championing what I perceived to be cultural scapegoats and pariahs to try and make people examine their own personal beliefs and see if they recognize anything profoundly full of crap. And if they do, I would love to say to them, “Hey, it’s cool. Sometimes you need to play along to get along but let’s not confuse the matter further by giving up our connection to the earth and our own, natural born strengths”. I know that might sound like some lame Chicken Soup for the Soul definition of dark paganism, but if we’re bent on adhering to some saintly marketing concept that, under scrutiny, actually opposes togetherness and growth, I think it’s not only unhealthy, but ultimately fruitless, as well.
What I’m saying is, we don’t need to be afraid of who we are as human beings. What we should be afraid of is a lack of inward examination and self-exploration. We’re created to be comfortable with the dark as well as the light, with the earth and the stars and with sexuality and pleasure. It’s not wrong to lust, nor is it wrong to release our deepest desires through all forms of expression, as long as we’re not asking anyone else to adopt them. In nature, everyone is held accountable for their actions. There is no court of high appeals and no sociological “time outs”. Are we now too comfortable with a margin for error that is so easily filled with empty doctrine and self-serving spin? We’ve lost so much trust for ourselves, we’re creating hundreds of billions of walking powder kegs who are mourning the passing of self-respect in all kinds of weird and scary ways. And not “cool” weird and scary, more like “really” weird and scary. There’s a difference, folks.
Hey, I don’t give a damn how you look, what you drive, what kind of house you have, where your kids go to school (as long as they “teach” there), what kind of music you like, how much you “give” and what silly little bullshit you might have “lost” doing it. I give a damn about your humanity and understanding enough about what that means to wake up and accept that you might have a responsibility to keep working, growing and stay out of the way of real, evolutionary progress. In short, and perhaps in toto, sWitch sets out to be a wickedly fun way to hold you responsible for your connection to yourself as a human being and hold others responsible as well. I’m not even sure I succeeded in doing what I set out to do, and if some of the ideas turned you off, then consider yourself filtered. I’m okay with that. But you still have to ask yourself if you are doing enough to discover your own strengths and recognize your own real weaknesses, or are you expecting someone else’s marketing concept of who you should aspire to be dictate what’s right and wrong, and what’s appetizing and what isn’t?
It’d be swell if we stopped being afraid of who we really are, and more importantly, who we really could be. It requires a malleability of vision and the development of courage to accept what our experiments truly yield. Expectations are okay, just as long as you don’t expect anything but the truth.
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.
Eliza Poe/HorrorCon – Sp4
May 30, 2008
For today’s entry, we invite the very capable ghost of Eliza Poe – mother of Edgar Allen Poe – to play the part of her namesake and our main character. She was born Eliza Arnold and after the death of her father, sailed from England to Boston, Massachusetts with her actress mother and made her acting debut at age nine. They joined a theater troupe called the Charleston Comedians run by a man named Mr. Edgar, and after her mother died, she married a man by the name of Charles Hopkins who may or may not have been related in some way to the man who portrays our Dr. Radan in the HorrorCon poster.
Sadly, good old Chuck would succumb to yellow fever three years later and poor Eliza would find herself a widow at age 18. She continued to perform, however, and was eventually swept off her feet by lawyer-turned-actor David Poe, Jr. Even more sadly, he sucked as an actor and would eventually leave Eliza after receiving a string of honest reviews, but not until after the couple produced two sons, one of whom we all know quite well. Eliza would also give birth to a daughter some months later, and the family would move to New York where mother would continue to perform until her death from pneumonia, malaria or tuberculosis (feeling lucky to be born in the age of modern medicine yet?) at the tender age of 24. Incidentally, the couple who would look after her children in her last days were named Mr. and Mrs. Luke Usher. If you ask me, little Edgar would have remembered this period in his life quite vividly. To see where Eliza is buried, click her miniature above. Would make a cheery family trip, no?
Speaking of cheery trips, let’s hop on over to Orlando and see how the Doctor and his charge are making out. Which is a casual, short-handed way of saying, “BEHOLD, YE WEARY WANDERERS! ‘TIS TIME TO LAY YE WEARY EYES ON HORRORCON – SP3!”:
As we all know by now, Dmitrije is a good swimmer and even better with the bedside manner. Eliza recounted for us her horrible ordeal and introduced us to a new friend named Boris. Dmitrije, like lots of us from time to time, needed a stiff shot to deal, and now must make a few more important decisions. (Remember, check the HorrorCon page in the “stories” section for previous chapters and to make sure you’re all caught up. Enjoy!)
HorrorCon – Saturday (part four) available by request only.
