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Wednesday, 7 August 2013

Scripts

Screen writing is baffling to me.
I have finally had the eureka moment everyone has been promising me and I have a short film to write. Sadly, I have been utterly confused about the whole process, and I can see the screen-writing world leaning over me, angrily remonstrating about action/dialogue ratios and dialogue/description ratios and the myriad of amazingly awful convention based crimes I have committed.

I just don't understand.

I feel I have been beaten about the face with the mantra of Story Story Story, which is fine, but how is anyone reading it going to Understand the story, if there is no description? Man cannot exist on dialogue alone.

This problem comes I think from approaching all this with a very prose-oriented mindset. Ideally, I would like to write a short story interspersed with INT. DRAWING ROOM. DAY etc and with CHARACTERNAME instead of speech marks.

But this is apparently Not The Done Thing, and I am hopelessly confused.


Sunday, 30 December 2012

Pining for the Fjords? What Kind of Talk is That?

So in four minutes time I must rush out into the very very cold to get a bus which probably won't come, because they hardly ever do, to go to a canteen to count pieces of a floor.

But in the meantime, I thought I'd start this blog post, so I remember to finish it when I come back, most likely covered in paint and having forgotten what it was I meant to write about.

So talk soon, wait right there.




Returned home.
Flats fell on me in a shipping container.
Exhausted, broken and as predicted, covered in paint.

Will write tomorrow.



Tomorrow turned into three weeks later.
Life happened.

Have forgotten the point of this post. I was talking about painting set for a pantomime up there ^ I realise now that's not very clear.


I'm crawling out of retirement. I've written some, what I call, words.
The Circus of Caged Birds just limped over 34,000 words. Gaining momentum but suffer massive inertia.
Virus and Fender are sulking in the background, unwritten about and lonely.
Essays are lurking about right with them.

Finished 'When God Was a Rabbit.'
Didn't really like it. It all got silly. (continuing the Monty Python theme) It's all just TOO SILLY.

On the plus side,
I KNOW HOW CAGED BIRDS IS GOING TO END!









No ok. I lied. I don't. I' writing at the edge of the map. I just wanted to put something that sounded cheerful and winning and like I am achieving something creatively.
Ssh.



Thursday, 6 December 2012

The Death of Ivan Ilych

Well.. the upshot of a lot of carry on and misery and stress is that I have finally been able to move to a film and television production course.
Hurrah, all is well again =)

So as part of said course, had to read the Tolstoy novella ''The Death of Ivan Ilych'' which I can say, having just read it tonight.. is not the most uplifting thing I have ever experienced. A quick plot summary would be, an unrealistically perfect (except in relationships) man gets ill with a mysterious and very painful illness which no one can diagnose or cure, he hates his wife, he agonises about whether his life was 'correct,' then he finally decides it was, comes to terms with death, and dies in screaming agony.

It's a lovely, cheery little tale.

I fail to see how it would make a good film (reading it in the context of adaptation) or really, even a film at all.

But that is beside the point. I just noticed, that in the course of lamenting the fact he is dying and the inescapable nature of such, he thinks, 'resistance is impossible.' Clearly this means, writing in 1886, Tolstoy was the world's first Trekkie.
Resistance is futile!


(I didn't really enjoy this book. It's apparently great literature. That's the only interesting thing I can think of to say about it. Apart from that it's really depressing. Hi ho.)

Sunday, 9 September 2012

Writerly Wisdom


NO TEARS IN THE WRITER, NO TEARS IN THE READER.
ROBERT FROST

Thursday, 30 August 2012

August NaNoWriMo 4

Has everyone seen this?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hr2Bc5qMhE4

It's really good. It just saved a pretty desperate day for me.




In other news, status of novel remains: Not going well.

I'm now reading the third Bas-Lag book by China Miéville, Iron Council.. and I swear, if there are any more heartbreaking revelations about Yagharek I will not be able to cope.
But it's totally destroying my artistic self confidence. I feel all my plot lines are amateur and one dimensional. I am incapable of coming up with proper threats and conflicts. All I'm good at is getting carried away with character back-stories.

Also feel like I strangle my stories with my own issues. I live vicariously through characters, and this means plots don't advance because I'm too busy moulding them into who I wish I was.
Or something.
I don't even know any more.

This has been a creative low point of record length. Something good better happen soon.


Friday, 10 August 2012

August NaNoWriMo 3

Here comes a gratuitous emo-tastic waffle of self pity. Once in a while it has to be done.




I'm very sad.




I'm a very lonely mouse with a bad back, incessant quit-itis and a disappointing word count.
Mostly I'm lonely.

Thursday, 2 August 2012

August NaNoWriMo 2

I spend the whole of novel writing months procrastinating by doing stupid maths.

For example, I just thought of something I want Deariecat to say in a later scene. This thing is 36 words long and I wrote it down in my notebook.

This took up five lines.
There are twenty two lines on a page.. so if I wrote at that size and spacing.. 158 words would fit on each page.

This means the full 50,000 words would take 316 pages of this notebook.
Which is good to know.


Also, these 36 words comprise 0.072% of the whole novel.
Which when you look at it that way.. makes all the words seem more important. Every one is 0.002% of the whole thing.



This is all really important. Clearly more important than actually writing the story.

As is, getting and lighting enough candles to light up my room (for authentic(ish) Victorian-ness,) moisturising my legs, gelling my hair into a mohican, moisturising my face, eating my own body weight in crisps, picking all the candle wax I just spilt off my bed sheets, and coming on to this blog to write about all of the above.

That is how serious I am about this procrastination.

Ok.


Going now.



Really.



I'll just check facebook.



Then watch that scene from Labyrinth I've been thinking about all day.




Ok. I mean it now.
Going.





dance magic dance..