Ex Veritas

My Life is an Action Movie

2011-10-03T17:09:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I've always felt that one of the best parts of any action film is the "recruiting the team" sequence. I have had the pleasure of doing just that for the last few months on the Sally project. Here's the team:

Robin Deshayes: financial wiz, crack demolitions expert, and marketing specialist.
Jefferson Costa: artist and master of Brazilian exacto-knife throwing.
Shane Amaya: creative consultant, exiled knight errant, holds advanced degrees in Vanishing and Odd Languages.
Me: writer, safecracker, and Haver of Visions.

So, that's what I've been doing. As soon as we decide on our outfits (I prefer the Three Amigos look), this mission is GO!

Comic-Con!

2011-07-24T13:25:00.000-07:00

Braved the hordes of stormtroopers, elves, and naughty robots to re-connect with some super-cool people at the one and only San Diego Comic-Con. Those who rocked: Brian at Khepri Comics, Gabriel Ba and Fabio Moon (who won yet another Eisner Award--those twins are unstoppable!), and Tommy Lee Edwards.

Thursday's highlight was spotting the legendary Bruce Campbell, who was sporting a white leisure suit. BOOMSTICK!

Sally Is Here

2011-07-14T10:58:00.000-07:00

Yahoo! The domain is up: www.arcanesally.com

Now for the next step: just add artist, and stir vigorously.

Sally Rising

2011-07-05T00:49:00.001-07:00

Ok blog fixed now.
Working on bringing Sally to life! More soon...

Blog Broken!

2011-07-05T00:48:00.001-07:00

daytripper!

2011-03-26T15:10:00.000-07:00

New release by a couple of brilliant creators, Fabio Moon and Gabriel Ba.

Now you got a good reason to check it out.

Evolution

2011-02-06T13:01:00.000-08:00

My son doesn't draw, he doodles. Here he shows the progression from protozoan to house cat. The third step seems to suggest the primitive cat had a human-like head, whereas step two has a very mouse-like appearance. Interesting theory.

This Is What Happens

2011-01-10T23:59:00.001-08:00

Never let your wife throw a mad tea party in your backyard. I came home to find mad hatters, march hares, and people spouting nonsense all over the house. Took me hours to straighten up.

Sorry, America

2010-12-18T15:08:00.000-08:00

While everyone was freezing their butts off across the country this week, I went for a hike. It was 79 degrees. The sun was shining. Birds were tweeting (non-electronically). Brooks were babbling. I began to feel guilty, then forgot.

This must be my return on high property taxes, wild fires, and being shaken out of bed by Apocalyptic earthquakes.

EDIT: Okay, the floods arrived. I forgot about those.

Blasto from the Pasto

2010-11-09T19:39:00.000-08:00

Today I came across a storyboard from the INCH project. I have no idea which draft this was attached to, nor do I remember the artist's name...nor which production company the project was with at the time.

My goal is to read SOME of the drafts someday and rewrite the script exactly the way I want it. Who knows, it might even come to life again: I remember talking to the writer of THIS MEANS WAR at a party about six years ago about how he'd sold that script years earlier. The project was in development hell and he figured it would never see daylight again.

They're shooting that movie right now, with Chris Pine and Reese Witherspoon starring.

You never know.

Inward Seeing

2010-11-03T22:27:00.000-07:00

A few days ago, someone asked me, "What's your problem, man?" This was in a crowded place and the person was admittedly drunk and there was no opportunity for me to reply, but it did inspire me to do perform some self-examination to find the root of my problem. I identified some personality weaknesses. What follows is a random sampling of my initial results:

1. I think hard candy sucks.
2. I read The Three Musketeers more like an instruction manual than a piece of fiction.
3. I never want to own another cat.
4. I would do anything to stop receiving group emails at work about potlucks, lost sunglasses, and retirement parties for people whom I've never met, especially when the invitation contains an oversized caricature of that person's face atop a golfer/surfer/fisherman's body.
5. I worry that reality television might be reality.

I hope this sheds some light on the matter.

Let's Review

2010-10-17T16:14:00.001-07:00

Mastodon. Good.

Deftones. Avoid.

The Sunset Marquis. Enjoy.

Bonus tip: Alice in Chains. Absolutely.

Lessons from L.A.

2010-10-16T14:22:00.000-07:00

Things That Sound Like a Bad Idea But Aren't: Going for a run on Sunset Boulevard in West Hollywood (bonus: high-fives from the band rolling equipment into the Whiskey), standing in the pit while a HEAVY metal band called Mastodon plays (bonus: being close enough to see that beneath all the hair, the guys aren't actually mastodons. Plus, they are excellent musicians. Seriously).

Things That Sound Like a Good Idea But Aren't: Standing in the same pit while the Deftones play their set (penalty: mosh pit action so violent I was certain my shirt was stained with blood), sharing a cab later with drunk Australians (penalty: one of them--the cash richest--was in possession of a single US dollar bill).

Things That Sound Like a Good Idea and Guess What, They Are: The Sunset Marquis, the pool service at the Sunset Marquis, the beds at the Sunset Marquis, the food at the Sunset Marquis, and the bar at the Sunset Marquis.

Decade

2010-10-09T15:32:00.000-07:00

The Irish

2010-10-07T15:25:00.000-07:00

I just had to feature a page of the Irish-language graphic novel "An Sclabhai" illustrated by Tomm Moore from Ireland. He also co-directed the animated SECRET OF KELLS, which was nominated for an Oscar earlier this year. See it. If you're not enchanted by the movie, kill yourself because you have no soul.

This Just In

2010-08-17T21:38:00.001-07:00

My new guilty pleasure: internet movie reviews. Oftentimes they are more entertaining than the movie. Or at least shorter. For example, one reviewer warned that the film in question was "more of a mind-thinker movie." In order to analyze this review, I had to do some quick soul-searching to decide if I was a mind-thinker or an other-parts thinker.

Here's what I came up with: a preponderance (that is, 51% or more) of my thinking is done with my brain and not my other parts. I don't claim to never think with these other parts, but I do firmly (ahem) believe that most of my thinking occurs within the rattling cage of my mind.

Therefore, I decided the movie in question was one I might enjoy!

Up next: another reviewer labels a movie, "boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring." I know there is deeper meaning here. Why nine times? Why no other words used in this review? Cryptic! Impenetrable! Intriguing!

The Live Boy Project

2010-08-10T16:45:00.000-07:00

I have been busy this summer working on my most ambitious and challenging collaboration yet: my son. Some recent highlight scenes are: jumping naked on the bed at bedtime and then escaping into the back yard when I attempt to enforce a cease-and-desist order, gutting out oral surgery and asking for a piece of gum to chew with stitches in his mouth, insisting I look into purchasing another child at a store (not a baby, but a seven-year-old girl with blond cornrows and a quiet demeanor--I am not making this up), and designing a new air-flow system for the house in which the warm air from the dryer and the stove are re-directed to vents over his desk.

He might be the funniest person I have ever met.

Stick Men Can't Jump

2010-07-27T21:54:00.001-07:00

The Pact

2010-07-05T23:25:00.000-07:00

I have made a pact with a friend of mine. The terms are simple: if we both survive to retirement, we will hunt Cape Buffalo in Africa. Sound like a dumb idea? Stop reading.

Still here? Good. Look, man, you only get one lap in life. Yes, I know the poor African buffalo just wants to chew plants, gore anyone who pisses him off, and meet big-horned ladies, but the world is changing. There will come a day when there is no more hunting. Anywhere. "Meat" will be but one flavor of soy product you buy at the grocery store.

I object to this future, so I will follow in the footsteps of Teddy Roosevelt and Ernest Hemingway while their tracks are still visible. I will go on safari, shoulder a rifle with a caliber close to my age, and hunt the buffalo, one of the most dangerous game animals in the world. I've chosen this beast for that very reason: he has a sporting chance of getting to me and grinding me into the African earth for only wounding him. But if I place my shot correctly, the indiginous people keep the meat, the local government the hefty trophy fees (which pay for game wardens), and I return with a wicked-looking horn boss.

More importantly, I shall return with memories: the burning sun above the red African earth, a glass of whiskey outside a tent in one of the last wild places, the stretched moment as the rifle's trigger is pulled. This, you see, is living. It has nothing to do with a flat screen or a hybrid vehicle. Living only exists when dying is close at hand. And dying is not kept at bay by assuming the fetal position, it is warded off by a raised fist. This is why parenthood tends to improve people: they spend much of their day keeping Death away from their little ones, who are constantly running into the street, poking electrical outlets with forks, and attempting to guzzle household chemicals.

A century or so from now--hopefully--one of my young descendants will come across a memory chip thingy containing an image of me beside an enormous Cape Buffalo who has just met his demise.

"Did Great Grandpa really go hunting in Africa?" little Peaceflower will ask his mother. "Yes, dear," his mother will reply. "Great Grandpa was a little bit crazy: he had tattoos, dogs, and drank liquor. He also made pacts, and kept them."

Fail

2010-06-14T10:48:00.001-07:00

Barbecue!

2010-05-30T14:37:00.000-07:00

For those of you who don't have a fire-breathing child: enjoy your weekend cook-outs anyway!

(crayola sketch reproduced by permission of my son, who was annoyed when I asked him to explain it)

Pepper In Me Nose

2010-05-18T23:04:00.001-07:00

A friend of mine has a 2-year-old boy learning to talk. At this stage, the child constructs sentences much like a drunken pirate. A week ago, the wee lad was enjoying a repast of cut vegetables when he started crying. His father quizzed the toddler about the problem.
"Pepper in me nose," came the reply.
How clever, thought my friend, that my son is able to describe the effect that eating a spicy bit of bell pepper can have on the mucous membranes. Clearly this bright child was demonstrating an advanced grasp of the culinary arts as well as abstract communication. My friend assured his son that the spicy effect would diminish shortly.
The child kept crying. "Pepper in me nose."
Neither juice nor milk comforted the child. Worried, my friend drove him to the doctor, who used plastic tweezers to remove a piece of cut bell pepper the boy had shoved up his left nostril.
The child pointed at the offending vegetable fragment: "Pepper in me nose!"

Frank Frazetta 1928-2010

2010-05-11T21:20:00.000-07:00

There has never been another like him. There will never be another like him.

Goodbye, Willa

2010-04-27T20:02:00.001-07:00

Farewell to the sweetest dog on Earth.

My favorite memory of you is the first time we put our son in a kiddie pool in the back yard and you panicked and fished him out. You were afraid he would drown in three inches of water!

Everyone who loved to come over and spoon with a gorilla will miss you as well!

Arcane Sally!

2010-04-12T16:16:00.000-07:00

Here is Jefferson's very cool cover for Arcane Sally & Mr. Steam. The guy hasn't even seen a copy of the script yet!

At the time that I first sent Jefferson some details about the characters, Sally was still sort of a third person who steps into the story and interacts with the two gentlemen agents. By the time I was finished writing it, Sally had blossomed into a very intriguing creation who more or less steals the show.

The weirdest thing about Jefferson's cover is that I meant to send a follow-up email to him asking that he show a lot of sky and some steam. I never sent that email, but he did it anyway...

Telepathy, or coincidence? You decide.

The Good Life

2010-03-22T22:25:00.000-07:00

This is Helen Keller. She is mostly blind and mostly deaf, and she loves joining me outside by the fire pit, where we both think very deep thoughts and keep them to ourselves. She's also nearly thirteen years old, which is rather amazing considering someone found her as a tiny kitten, malnourished and blind, wandering along the edge of the freeway.

Helen was raised among dogs and soon forgot that she was actually a cat and ever since she prefers the company of dogs above any other animal (including cats, whom she finds to be complicated and aloof). Helen snores like a hog, grunts when she eats, does a somersault when she's intrigued, and often forgets that a meow is not just a facial expression, but is supposed to have a sound that accompanies it. I guess it's not easy being mostly deaf. Oh, and Helen is not the least bit afraid of the Werewolf. He respects her for that.

In a nutshell, Helen rocks.

Who is Sally?

2010-03-16T15:35:00.000-07:00

This is the best representation I could find of her, since she isn't real. I know: you can't see her face. That's the whole point. She's mysterious. She's also tough as a fistful of nails.

Novelize Me

2010-03-14T15:44:00.000-07:00

Okay, so when you go with the "ask the audience" lifeline, and 90% of them agree on an answer, you're an idiot to choose a different one. I must apply that to my current situation, since about 90% of the people who read ARCANE SALLY tell me it is a novel, not a screenplay.

Fine. Slave drivers. Now I just sit down and write a novel because you all happen to agree on something?

"I am born."

2010-03-10T22:43:00.000-08:00

I always wanted to write that line. Those Victorian writers knew how to start from the beginning, didn't they?

To be honest, I prefer the way Seamus Heaney begins his BEOWULF translation: "So." And the story goes on from there.

So. It will be my birthday in mere minutes. I can't help wondering what point I'm at in the story of my life. Not at the end, hopefully. But if I am, I can't really complain. It's been quite a tale, chock full of heroes and villains alike. I'd like to imagine I'm somewhere in the middle, at a part where no one wants to stop reading.

Always leave 'em wanting more, someone smart once said.

First Blush

2010-02-26T12:04:00.001-08:00

The reactions continue to roll in. Some are calling for novelization, some for serialization, some for more words, some for less. My pro reader, "RB", liked it and had excellent suggestions for improvement.

So far I have been most interested in feedback from women, since Sally is a very unique character and undeniably the strongest of the lot. Most are calling for more of her.

Decision time.

Random Memory

2010-02-22T15:27:00.000-08:00

So, last September I’m walking through Prague with a group of six displaced Russians I’d met a couple of days earlier. One of them spoke excellent English, two spoke terrible English (yet infinitely better than my Russian), and the rest spoke not a lick of it.

As we’re crossing a cobbled square, headed for a restaurant, I can hear music coming from somewhere in the area: Franki Valli’s “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You.” When the horns played the cue for the chorus, all of a sudden all six Russians belted out, in PERFECT English: “I love you, baby! And if it’s quite all right, I need you, baby, to warm the lonely night! I love you, baby! Trust in me when I say…!”

I’d forgotten about that moment until today. So funny. You can’t make that stuff up. People all over the world are so much more alike than we will ever realize.

Never Forgotten

2010-02-18T01:24:00.000-08:00

Beowulf, our paths separated a year ago today. I know you're watching over us from up there.

I still miss you, buddy.

Arcane Sally & Mr. Steam

2010-02-08T14:58:00.000-08:00

So, what's the next step? The plan is to get the script in front of as many people as possible. This is not easy. People are busy, buried by things needing to be read and taken care of. The game is to make the script stand out, to keep it from drowning in slush piles.

For now, the script is out to a couple of professional readers who might have a golden suggestion or two for the story. If they like it, they have people they can pass it on to. Some dangers to avoid: someone trying to use the script to jumpstart their own failing career, or sinking the whole project by blowing it. This happened with INCH, where a director attached to the project ran the whole ship aground in a crucial meeting with studio bigwigs. He choked; we all drowned. Remember, we are talking about millions of dollars here. It's easy for someone to read a script and say, "Wow, I really liked that." It's another thing entirely to get them to say, "Wow, I really want to put seven figures and my own reputation on the line for this."

The novel and graphic novel options remain. But first, I place a big bet in Tinseltown.

Speechless

2010-02-02T18:58:00.000-08:00

The live reading of ARCANE SALLY & MR. STEAM was off the chain. The party was so good, I forgot to take pictures. And there's still some Lagavulin left in the bottle!

Thanks to you, wags and all, who brought your craziness and quirks to the characters. And thanks especially to my ringers, George and Anne, who showed us how it's done.

This script steams on!

Los Angeles??

2010-01-30T14:07:00.000-08:00

L.A. Downtown: clean. Traffic: quiet. People: nice. Hobos: hardly. Food: Awesome.

Weird. This was not the L.A. I grew up with. The times they are a'changin'.

Los Angeles

2010-01-24T11:21:00.000-08:00

I'll be in LA all week. You can find me at my favorite haunts: The Edison (check it out online), Phillippe's, Chinatown, the Bradbury Building. The city has atmosphere, in spades. You just gotta know where to find it.

The live reading is set for Sunday. I got some ringers from PCPA coming in to read and blow everyone's socks off. I'm not exactly sure what that means, come to think of it, but it is going to be good.

Haunted

2010-01-15T14:01:00.001-08:00

When I finish a writing project, there is a strange period afterward in which I experience the blues. I've never be able to explain it successfully, but it must have something to do with the immersion into the world of the story, and the connection with the characters. They aren't real, of course, but they take on a life of their own. I've talked to other writers about this and discovered it's not uncommon.

Feeling restless, I headed for the local bookstore, and while walking there I passed a high-end antique shop, the kind that sells original artwork and real collectibles. I wandered in, and found myself standing in front of an ornate, wooden music box. This was odd because in the script I just finished, a music box becomes the manifestation of love, loss, and the passage of time.

"Would you like to hear it?" an elegant lady in her seventies asked, walking toward me with a metal key in her hand. I nodded, and she opened the box. "This was made for a seven-year-old girl," she said. "She had it her whole life. When she died, it ended up here."

Haunting yet strangely comforting music began to play. "This was her favorite song," the lady explained. "Isn't it beautiful?" I agreed, spellbound, and we both stood in silence, listening to music that had come to represent an entire woman's life, a woman neither of us had met. But in that moment, it was almost as if we knew her.

The song ended. I thanked the elegant lady and left, still feeling pensive but better somehow, as if someone had reached out to me from a place I hadn't known about.

I think the reason a writer--and, sometimes, a reader--becomes so attached to characters in a story is because they are made up of pieces of all of us, our foibles and virtues. Saying goodbye to these characters is parting all over again from those we've loved and lost, from a thousand unrealized possibilities. I guess you could say we are haunted by ourselves.

Dear Amazon

2010-01-10T12:22:00.000-08:00

Where is my book? I ordered it mid-December. You sent me an email on the 29th, telling me you had shipped it, and it was due to arrive on January 8th. I still don't have it. Did you send it by donkey? I realize the book was written in 1926, so I've had plenty of time to buy a copy before last year, but dammit, man! People ride across the country on bicycles in 8 days!

Are the angry book spirits punishing me for snubbing the local bookshop and saving 37% off the cover price? Will it still have that new-book smell when it finally arrives, or will it reek of cargo holds and cigarettes? Or donkey?

New Year = New Term

2010-01-03T20:28:00.000-08:00

Need a word to describe the guy doing 49 in a 55 zone in front of you on a no-passing stretch of single-lane highway? Can't think of a name for the woman taking 5 1/2 minutes to write a check at the register in the grocery store (helloo: debit card)? Well, here's a handy new term:

Obstructionist: Someone who specializes in delaying others. This title applies most often to the annoyingly-slow, the dim-witted, and those who brandish the title of "management" at their respective places of employment. These people bug.

The best thing about the new term is that it's not obscene, so it should fall within the parameters of most New Year's resolutions.

Done!

2009-12-30T21:55:00.001-08:00

I burned some sort of weird creative fuel and finished the steampunk script yesterday. I sent it to Frank and immediately began to power-call him to get him to read it. For the uninitiated, power-calling is repeatedly phoning someone--using all their possible contact numbers--even though that person is not picking up. It is a technique commonly employed by nuts and rabbit-boiling exes. And writers.

Frank called me back today, laughing, saying he would read it asap. A few hours later, while I was in a meeting, my phone would not stop ringing silently (how is that possible? I don't know, yet it happened...). I surreptitiously checked to see who it was: Frank. He was power-calling me back. Writer.

I rushed out after the meeting and got him on the phone. "It's the best thing you've written," he gushed. Since I don't owe him money and he doesn't owe me money, I took his comment to mean I should proceed with the project.

I started this blog so I might someday be able to answer the question: "When did you write that?" In the case of ARCANE SALLY & MR. STEAM, the correct answer is December 29.

The next step: a polish (NOT a rewrite!), and a live reading. As Fate would have it, my brother just replaced the bottle of expensive whisky the actors drank up at THE WOLD live reading in November...

115

2009-12-27T20:22:00.000-08:00

Pages of steampunk manuscript, that is. At least 20 pages to go. What the hell is this story anyway? It's either one of the better things I've written, or one of the worst. The remainder of the script is so well mapped out that I'll finish it in January, for sure. Then I still won't know what I've got.

There's only one way to get a better idea: invite those scoundrels and actors back to my house for a live reading. I learned a few things the last time, such as:
1. Do not put the music anywhere near your narrator. It pisses him off.
2. Get the right actor for the part. Good casting is part of the reason the last one went so well.
3. Provide good food and good booze for the actors. They will detect it if you cut either corner. This is also part of the reason the last one went so well.

To any of you actors and wags reading this: pencil me in for the first part of February. I've got a couple of surprises up my sleeve for you (actors need enticing as well...that should be #4).

Thanks again to Frank for reading the first 45 pages and lighting me on fire to finish it. You will be the first person to read the words, "The End." Hopefully, they will be blurry. Get it?

Not Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf

2009-12-07T17:54:00.000-08:00

Another Jefferson Costa sketch from THE WOLD. This was one of the original character images I had in my head when I was dreaming up the idea, and seemed to capture the feeling of the story. Apparently, Jeff feels the same way.

Deuce-and-a-Half

2009-12-03T10:09:00.000-08:00

Jeff's study of the US Army truck from THE WOLD. It is the illustrator's job to create the illusion of movement so the story doesn't read like a gallery of still-life's with dialogue. Jeff clearly aims to accomplish this suggestion of motion even in his preliminary sketches.

No Introduction Required

2009-12-02T00:10:00.000-08:00

This is for reals.

http://poorlydrawnportraits.com/

Enjoy!

By My Mark

2009-12-01T20:12:00.001-08:00

I'm eighty pages deep into the steampunk manuscript, and there's no way to tell what I have. The best way to describe it is that it's like painting in the dark. The lights won't come on until people read it. It doesn't help for me to read it myself, even when I'm done. Writing is about sharing something with other people, after all, not rocking back and forth in a corner and humming to keep intruders out. If other people don't enjoy it, what's the point, man?

Forty pages to go, and they're all outlined. I'm looking forward to writing some of the scenes, especially the ones with splashy titles, like "Airship Down!" "Throw Sally from The Train!" and "Tea Time." Okay, maybe the last one not so much, but it is an important scene.

It was four months ago that someone challenged me to do this...just goes to show how long it takes to complete a whimsical writing project. And if I end up with crap, I can just mumble words like "cathartic" and "journey." Another great line to toss out there is, "the world wasn't ready for it yet," which means: "I'm hiding this so others can't confirm my inability to write."

On THE WOLD front, Jefferson is thumbnailing and sketching from the newly-improved, freshly-translated script. And he gets to keep his light on so he can see what he's doing.

Give Thanx

2009-11-25T22:41:00.001-08:00

Life is so bsy I only hv time 2 be thnkfl 4 a coupl things:
(inspired by Brian--finally, a post!)

1. I didn't pay to see the movie 2012.
2. I didn't see the movie 2012.
3. I'll never see the movie 2012.
4. The Mayans weren't capable of predicting jack shit, even their own irrelevance.
5. Y2K was way scarier than 2012 (and cooler).
6. Y2K befuddled one crappy watch I never wore (was that IT?).
7. And most importantly: I am blessedly thankful for my family, especially my son who makes me laugh every single day.

Hppy Thnksgving, Evry1! See you all in 2013!

Last Night in a Scary Bar

2009-11-16T11:01:00.000-08:00

I went to see my friend Rick, whom I hadn't hung out with for years. We drove to a dive bar (his idea) in a town known primarily for its crime rate. The bar (six pool tables, one bartender, wood paneling) contained the kind of crowd that encourages the avoidance of eye contact. There were glowering men waiting out their parole, a woman with a bottomless cigarette and a hairstyle straight outta "GoodFellas", and other extras who had answered the "menacing person needed in dark bar" ad in the paper. I considered leaving immediately.
Did I mention it was karaoke night?
No one was singing, except the lady with the hair and her male companion, a Hispanic Kenny Rogers look-alike who kept to a safe catalogue of dead artists who mainly sang about getting arrested, drinking, and lonesome highways.
The woman running the karaoke looked normal enough, and had a boyfriend or bouncer nearby who eyeballed anyone who got too close to the equipment. When Rick decided he would go sing (Johnny Cash--smart), the bartender waved me over and asked what I was drinking. Prior to that moment my plan was "nothing" but I quickly determined I would stand out less if I had a drink in front of me. So I got one, dirty glass and all. This was also the first time a bartender had summoned me to the bar from across a room. I didn't know they did that, anywhere.
Rick and I started catching up. After a while I realized I hadn't been stabbed yet so I started to relax. Maybe it was the drink. Rick asked me if I was going to sing and I absently thumbed through the song list.
For reasons that still escape me, I wrote down "Come What May," a duet from the musical Moulin Rouge, on the song request slip and went to the karaoke woman.
"Do you know this song?" I asked her. She nodded. "Would you sing it with me?" I tried, knowing that anyone who runs a karaoke gig not only loves to sing but usually sings pretty well. She shrugged and said, "Sure, I'll do it." If she'd been a good person, she would have said, "Go out the back door now." But she didn't. I sat back down with Rick and continued our conversation. More people arrived, but I was no longer watching the front door.
I forgot about the song, until someone said my name. I went over and picked up the mic and looked out at the bar. Holy crap. I was going to croon a love ballad in this place? Thankfully, the karaoke lady had presumably survived more than one evening in this establishment so her standing next to me would presumably prevent All Hell from breaking loose. As the music began, I had a moment to search inward and try to find the reason I'd picked this song. I ceased my search and settled for cursing myself.
I sang the first line. If you don't know the song, you should listen to it, just to fully understand my predicament. And it was about to get worse.
The karaoke lady, still seated behind her bullet-proof equipment, looked over at me and said, "I don't know this song at all." She made no move for the mic, nor did she stand, nor indicate that she would do anything while I sang alone.
I suppose I could have run for it, but I would have been leaving Rick behind. You never leave a man behind. The only thing left to do was sing.
Then the karaoke lady keys her mic and asks the bar, "Can anyone out there sing this duet with him?" I realized that she was trying to get me killed. A guy with a Tombstone mustache and a cowboy hat with too many feathers on it shook his head in disbelief.
Suddenly a woman raised her hand from the corner and hurried through the crowd: a pretty redhead, maybe 23 years old, vivacious, like a 40's pin-up girl. She joined me, flashed a dazzling smile, and picked up the other mic. What Higher Power of Goodness had sent her?
I finished my opening, and she began her part. She had a voice like honey mead: sweet and powerful. And she knew the song. She was beautiful. She saved my life, man.
We sang the duet, feeding off each other's energy, lost in the music. There was no more scary bar, no more threat of death by pool cue, only the rising crescendo of the song as it ended with its promise of hope and the power of music and two people who don't care about consequences, only love.
The bar was dead silent. Scattered applause, then more, then cheering. I thanked the pretty girl, who laughed with genuine and sudden shyness as she returned to her companions. I made my way back across the bar, and the guy in the cowboy hat--now revealed to be staggeringly drunk--said, "You got a voice from Hell, friend."
I would survive the night. I was untouchable; I was the guy who made the pretty redhead materialize out of the wood paneling and sing like an angel. And the real kind of angel, not the Hell's kind.
Rick was chuckling when I reached him. "I remember why we quit hanging out," he said. "You're completely out of you're mind."

EDIT: Based on a few salacious emails I have received since this post, I feel I should point out that the pretty redhead left the bar with her male friends about an hour after this incident occurred. Thank you for your concern. For an alternate (and fabricated) ending, please visit mindsinthegutter.com.

For Example...

2009-11-13T12:29:00.000-08:00

This is arguably steampunk. Not a lot of science fictional elements on the surface, but the supernatural undertones are there. Guy Ritchie says he wanted the movie to be "accessible." Hopefully that doesn't translate across the pond into "shitty."

It doesn't matter anyway, because a true gentleman wouldn't miss a movie featuring Rachel McAdams. Even if it featured her doing laundry for 120 minutes.

Steampunker

2009-11-09T15:37:00.000-08:00

The project is spiraling out of control, like Alice growing inside the white rabbit's cottage until her arms and legs crash out through the windows and her huge eyes blink from beneath the thatched roof.

Sometimes a script takes on a life of its own, decides it's going to be much larger than originally planned. What was supposed to be a light-hearted, Victorian adventure has now become one of the more ambitious projects I've invented. Life. Death. Friendship. Love. Adventure. Mathematics.

Yes, mathematics. I hate math (as does much of the population, I think), which means I would normally shy away from it as a plot device. But for some reason, it works.

I'm fifty pages deep. While reading through my notes, I realized that this idea was born years ago, and was merely waiting until I was brave (or foolish) enough to take it on.

I don't yet know how my Alice will grow. Exponentially, I imagine.

We Are Live on The Air

2009-11-02T12:28:00.000-08:00

Last night a crew of actors, wags, and scoundrels came to my place for a live reading of THE WOLD, recorded as a 40's radio show. I've held readings of scripts in the past, but none so far have matched the energy of this group.

The plan was to use hi-tec equipment in lo-tec fashion to capture the genuine, often hilarious, effect of a live radio performance.

Mission accomplished. Thanks to all of you who poured your talent and mojo into the best party we've had in a long time!

DOPPELGANGERRRR!!!!

Smile On

2009-10-31T12:06:00.000-07:00

Happy Birthday, Beowulf. I miss you, my friend.

This Joe's for You

2009-10-25T21:00:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I swaggered into one of my favorite coffee haunts and demanded my usual from the joekeep. "Step back here and make it yourself," he countered, meaning it.
I was rendered mute. How many latte's had I seen created? Hundreds? Thousands? I realized I had never really paid much attention to the process.
Humbled, I stepped behind the gleaming machinery and--under expert instruction--made my first latte. I took a sip and deemed it...satisfactory. I even learned a few secret moves: the Breach, the Slam, and the Bump, each of them necessary for a quality coffee drink.
The Point of this Story? Life is not meant to be merely observed, as if through glass. We are supposed to act, to interact, to learn. It took an 18-year-old barista to remind me of that.
Thanks, kid.

Relief Pitcher

2009-10-20T15:55:00.000-07:00

Frank, my writing partner on LEGION, outdid himself this week, pitching the project to several production companies. Lin Pictures (TERMINATOR: SALVATION) and Beacon Pictures (THE GUARDIAN) asked for the script. Sounds easy, right?

Not only no, but Hell No. Here's how the pitch often goes:

(After waiting in the fashionable waiting area and sipping at your water the assistant brought out, you are invited inside the studio exec's office. On one wall: the poster for a movie that made 1.2 billion dollars. This studio exec produced that movie.)

Exec: "We wanted to meet you (he's the only one in the room, other than you--hidden camera?) because we liked "Attack of the Weed People" so much and thought it was brilliant. We're in development on "Assault of the Crabgrass Folk" so your script is not an option for us right now, but we'd (still no one else there) love to hear what else you're working on."

Writer: "Okay, well, I've got a script you'll love."

(Exec leans back, smiling, and folds his hands in front of him. You are now pitching.)

Writer: "Imagine a world where...blah blah blah...but here's the hook: blah blah blah...and the twist is...blah blah blah."

(Exec's smile has changed, becoming less animated, almost mannequin-like. His eyes focus on a spot just above and to the left of your head, approximately 117 miles behind you.)

Writer: (just trying to get to the end...where's the F-ing end??) "And the last image is of the flying monkey spiraling up into the sky, free at last."

(The only sound is the copier down the hall.)

Exec: "Sounds interesting." (translation: "That was the most uninteresting thing I've heard today, other than the urine-inducing small talk in the urinal area of the men's restroom.")

(The meeting adjourns with handshakes and "great to meet you" exchanged three or four times. You have just screwed a pitch. You leave, nodding at the assistant as if everything went well, when you both know by the length of the meeting that you beaned the umpire with a wild throw. That clammy coolness on your forehead is flopsweat.)

On the opposite end of the spectrum, the successful pitch ends with the exec happily demanding to see the script, leaving you with the same feeling you got when ET made the bicycle fly, or when Sauron's tower toppled over, or when Lucy broke off her engagement to Cecil (hey, it's from A ROOM WITH A VIEW...I'm trying to hit all the genres).

Frank, well done. I hereby elect you as official Pitchman. It's a four-year term. Enjoy.

The Results Are In

2009-10-14T22:50:00.000-07:00

Kristin, a holiday-savvy friend, has shared with me the good things about Columbus Day:
1. The tourists have gone home.
2. It is celebrated with lots of top quality tequila. Because I said so.
3. No need to invite unwanted extended family members over for a barbecue.

She also mentioned something about genitalia and a Vietnamese masseuse but you'll have to let your imagination run with that one. Clearly Kristin has a...grasp...on the holiday that I lack.

Next year I will bust out my papier-mache' Nina, Pinta, and Santa Maria, and we'll see who is REALLY into the spirit of the day!

As The Wold Turns

2009-10-13T13:23:00.000-07:00

Another Wold sketch. I chose this one because it represents how Jefferson draws the energy of a scene out of a written script, even when that script is translated from a foreign tongue (in this case, English).

Columbus De-bunked

2009-10-13T00:07:00.000-07:00

I just got home late and realized my outgoing snail mail is still sitting in my mailbox because of Columbus Day. I don't mind a good day off (see blog posts, below), but the man didn't discover anything: there were people already living in the Americas. Imagine walking into a crowded room and announcing, "This room has now been discovered!"

As long as we're pretending indiginous people don't count, didn't Leif Ericson beat Columbus by about...say...five-hundred years? Next year let's all stay home for Leif Ericson Day. Viking helmets! Drinking horns brimming with beer! Burning longships at the beach! Beards!

In the meantime, enjoy the good things about Columbus Day.

Someone please email me the list of good things about Columbus Day.

Tempus Fugit

2009-10-06T11:24:00.000-07:00

I created this blog one year ago today, with the simple intention of chronicling the rise and fall (and rise again!) of some of my writing projects. My intention was never to try and "connect" with people, professional or otherwise, nor to include much in the way of personal information.

How wrong I was. Thanks to those who've stopped by, left me a comment, ribbed me about something they read or saw, or just took a moment to check in on me. I've made new friends, found new respect for artists and other writers (especially those who wear both hats!), and adopted a new attitude about this mysterious place called cyberspace. It's good to stay connected.

Here's hoping you all have a great year.

All Right Already

2009-10-05T11:11:00.000-07:00

Today someone asked me, "Who are you reading right now?" Unable to spit out the lie "Goethe" around a mouthful of latte, I swallowed and mumbled, "Novik." Blank stare. "Obscure novelist," I added, knowing I was caught.

The book's title is "His Majesty's Dragon," about a British officer who flies around on a dragon during the Napoleonic Wars. Now, I dislike dragon books; they belong in the same bin as unicorn and elf books. But this novel--so far--is pretty good. And I just found out that Peter Jackson bought the movie rights. And Stephen King likes it. And the New York Times. And a bunch of ladies who drive around with stuffed animals displayed inside their rear windshields.

I'm reading a dragon book, okay? Happy now, Internet?

Today's Lesson

2009-10-01T19:27:00.001-07:00

This is Jerry Cantrell from ALICE IN CHAINS. Jerry rocks. Hard. How hard does Jerry rock, you ask? Eddie Van Halen came to the show last night to watch Jerry play.

Also, my ears are not working today. I am reluctant to use the term "deaf" because it sounds so final.

Incredibly Important Things

2009-09-29T10:24:00.000-07:00

I'm on "vacation" again. That's right, suckers. I'll be in Hollywood tomorrow night (and very likely deep into the wee hours of the following day) for an album-release concert and party for the one and only ALICE IN CHAINS. If you don't know who they are, I cannot help you.

Until then, I've got Incredibly Important Things to do, such as...getting coffee with people with advanced degrees in sarcasm, going for a long run or ride all afternoon, lighting an outdoor fire with my son, and finally opening that bottle of double-matured Lagavulin. If I can get one of those advanced-degree-in-sarcasm people to join me for a slug of it by the fire, I will have checked off everything on my list for the day.

Yep, it's going to feel good to finally get some things done around here.

Sketched

2009-09-24T08:11:00.000-07:00

Some of Jefferson's initial character sketches for "The Wold" are starting to roll in. It's very interesting to see what a talented artist can do with mere words describing a character (and I didn't offer very many...sorry, Jeff!).

Here is Gotterdam, the blacksmith, rendered in a way that shows he has a sense of humor! Brilliant work.

One Thing More

2009-09-20T21:42:00.000-07:00

I know I promised no vacation photos, but I think a ten-foot high chandelier made of human bones qualifies as an exception.

Yes, those are real skulls.

Czeched Out

2009-09-20T14:31:00.001-07:00

You can live an entire life in seven days. Astonishing.

Деякі слова краще, коли пошепки.

That's all I have to say about that.

Praha

2009-09-10T16:30:00.000-07:00

I will be in Prague working on a project for the next ten days, staying around the corner from a very old church called Our Lady beneath the Chain.

That is not a joke.

Eastern Europe rocks.

Stitchpunk

2009-09-03T11:43:00.000-07:00

Here's an image from the movie "9", which premieres next week. The film has been labeled "stitchpunk," which I suppose is a new addition to the subgenres steampunk, clockpunk, cyperpunk, and dieselpunk.

Allow me to coin a few new offerings: mowpunk (featuring an inventive configuration of landscaping tools), joepunk (a dystopic setting dominated by brass and metal espresso machinery), and tharsheblowpunk (a dark world of whaling ships and harpoonists).

Domo Arigato Mr. Roboto!

2009-08-30T18:00:00.000-07:00

Another high-larious sketch by Strieker. Dig that robotic hand!

Hey Hey Hey

2009-08-23T12:29:00.001-07:00

What's happening? Jefferson has translated THE WOLD, and presumably is starting to work. LEGION will take on a new title, since a movie of the same name (but vastly different genre) is coming out soon. My vote will be to add THE to the front of it. I spent a week prowling among 3,000 year old giants. My latest punk is steaming along. The werewolf continues to rule the night. Everything is pretty much as it should be.

Cool Shite

2009-08-10T15:23:00.000-07:00

Remember the strangely-chilling scene in "Amadeus" where Mozart forces his father to go with him to the masked ball? Now imagine that scene with devils, flashing swords, smoking flintlock pistols, and an anti-hero with a damned soul.

That's "The Marquis" by Guy Davis and I can't believe I just found out about it today (thanks to Becky Cloonan). Check it out: http://themarquisinferno.blogspot.com

Steampunk'd

2009-08-04T22:45:00.000-07:00

After hearing all my chattering about the genre, a friend has challenged me (not with a slap across the face, thankfully) to produce my own contribution to the alternate world.

I accept.

As chance would have it, I have in possession (I think...) a scribbled collection of notes on just such a project. The title? "Arcane Sally and Mr. Steam." So there. It doesn't get any more steampunkly than that.

Stand back. Here goes nothing {{knuckles popping}}...

Winna!

2009-07-28T11:37:00.000-07:00

Congrats to Kako, whose artwork appears in the 2009 Eisner Award-winning "Comic Book Tattoo." The book, a collaborative effort inspired by musician Tori Amos, won Best Anthology last week at Comic-Con.

No Con Do

2009-07-23T12:23:00.000-07:00

No SDCC for me this year.

Shane's heading down there on a train right now, carrying some legal documents I gave him, as well as a top-secret script. He's going to pass them off to the twins (Fabio Moon and Gabriel Ba, for those of you just joining the story), who will fly back to Brazil and put said documents into the hands of Jefferson Costa, artist extraordinaire.

Yessir, no better place to send top-secret stuff than into a mob of 125,000 people...

Guest Artist

2009-07-19T15:45:00.000-07:00

"The Mosquito Eater," by my son, Strieker. While playing outside, he accidentally ate a small flying bug, and apparently decided to work with that theme.

No Can Do

2009-07-01T22:54:00.000-07:00

"US bars immediate entry of Brazilian artist. Universe saved."

It appears there is no way we can get a VISA for Jefferson to enter the country any time soon. Our delicate nation could potentially be undone by the entry of said solitary Brazilian, especially given the fact that EVERYBODY else (in California at least) is here legally.

Plan B now in effect.

A dog, a plan, a canal: pagoda!

2009-06-29T16:20:00.000-07:00

Shane and I are hatching an evil plan: to fly Jefferson here to the US and work with him intensely for a few weeks to get The Wold underway.
Might be nice to bring him here at the end of July so he can see Comic-Con. What could be more inspiring for a comic-book artist than a 100,000-strong legion of comic fans?
All those Princess Leia's in metal bikinis couldn't hurt, either.

Gustave Dore

2009-06-17T21:30:00.000-07:00

I hereby salute a rockin' illustrator. This engraving was done in 1866.

Yes, you read that right. Not many people could come up with a haunting image like this (depicting Dante and his guide chatting with a condemned soul in Hell).

Here's to Victorian-era illustrators!

Gone Baby Gone

2009-06-11T21:57:00.000-07:00

I'm gone this week and next at a Fight School. Don't ask.

More legal drama between Shane and that producer over PHINEAS POE. Sucks.

Memo to everyone: never work without a contract. A handshake doesn't mean shit, and often is the precursor of a knock-down, drag-out, saloon-clearin' brawl.

That's where Fight School comes into play.

Kiss Me, Judas

2009-05-27T23:22:00.000-07:00

Terra Major is releasing PHINEAS POE, illustrated by the talented Jefferson Costa.

Get it here @ http://terramajor.myshopify.com/

Inferno

2009-05-16T15:01:00.000-07:00

Paradise is burning. Every night the werewolf and I descend through the smoke, to prowl among the pitiful souls scurrying in all directions with their meager possessions. Ash rains down, coating everything in dead snow. The werewolf licks his lips, one eye fixed on the shuffling victims, the other on the walls of flame that roar in triumph above it all.

I can't write, not when the world has become this unreal.

Dear Facebook: Kiss My Ass

2009-05-11T01:20:00.001-07:00

Facebook, you are Skynet. You know it. You know I know it. Go ahead, send a cybernetic assassin into the past to try and kill my ancestor. The fact that I'm writing this means you failed! You forgot about the space/time continuum conundrum thing, didn't you?

A message to everyone else: join the Resistance!

The Prequel

2009-05-03T21:29:00.000-07:00

Frank and I are meeting this week to continue outlining the LEGION prequel focusing on our Celtic wild man, Ferox. Since so many people have asked us about Ferox's past (and shrugging our shoulders didn't seem to satisfy), Frank and I decided we had better talk about it, and an idea for "the prequel" was born. It will take place in Britannia and explain why the tattooed man chose to leave his home and serve Rome.

Yes, there will be blood. Would we tell the story any other way?

In Translation Lost

2009-04-17T12:49:00.001-07:00

Another shining talent, Jefferson Costa, has signed on as the artist for THE WOLD. Yes, he is Brazilian. No, he does not speak English...at least not well enough to read the script and create the hundreds of panels that tell the story. I had the bright idea to use the free internet services to translate. Here's a block of text from the script:

"The knights line up, twelve of them, in the rubble-strewn gap left by the German mortar rounds. Armored hands grip swords and axes.
But the warriors are too far apart; if they stood shield-to-shield they might stand a chance."

I translated the lines into Portugese through Yahoo Babelfish, and then back into English through Google Translate. Behold the same block of text:

"The riders line, twelve of them in the rubble-strewn opening left by the circles of German mortar. Armored hold hands swords and axes. But the Warriors are too far apart, it was the protector, the protector, could be a possibility."

Hm. We may have to pay someone to do the translation, after all.

Cover Me!

2009-04-06T21:55:00.001-07:00

I just heard from Kako, yet another incredibly gifted Brazilian artist, who has agreed to do the artwork for the cover for THE WOLD.

I tested his seriousness about the project by sending him an incredibly lame drawing I did today. Kako replied that he would sleep on it and come up with something good for the cover. I'm trying to imagine the moment when he opened the attachment and saw my pathetic rendering of a gothic knight holding a sword in one hand and a Thompson submachine gun in the other. Did he scream in horror? Laugh hysterically? Vomit? Whatever his reaction, he kept his cool.

Artists are nice.

Dimensionalize Me

2009-04-03T13:13:00.000-07:00

Frank, my LEGION co-writer, and I were summoned to meet with David Seigle, President of In-Three, Inc, at their facility north of Los Angeles. In-Three is a cutting-edge company leading the pack in 3D technology for movies (they call it "dimensionalization," by the way). Mr. Seigle also happens to be a trustee with the Archaeological Institute of America, a happy coincidence considering that LEGION is an ancient history-buff's dream. Mr. Seigle said he wanted to help make LEGION into a movie. A dimensionalized movie.

We toured their facility and were given an eye-popping demonstration of their work.

The future in cinema has arrived. How cool would it be to meld it with a story from the past?

Welcome to My Cubicle

2009-03-31T13:07:00.000-07:00

I have this idea for a book: photos of the places where authors get much of their work done, which would hopefully be claw-foot bathtubs in backyards, broken down '45 Chevys, and a gypsy wagon or two. The book would feature well-known authors, of course, so this photo wouldn't be in there, but to get the ball rolling, here's my work spot (not pictured: fire pit, fountain, and werewolf).

Bonus points to anyone who can identify what's in the bottle.

Death!Defying!Astonishing!

2009-03-29T21:01:00.000-07:00

I haven't been able to write anything for a few days, so thought I'd just toss out a snappy title. But I've had some good ideas. I swear.

Stylus Envy

2009-03-22T13:14:00.001-07:00

Artists have it better: they can post a pic of a project they're working on, and the post is instantly interesting. I can't exactly attach an outline of an idea. Or can I? Here's the opener from the menacing island tale:

So there's this guy floating in the ocean. He's clinging to a piece of wood from a shipwreck. He spots a green island in the distance, and kicks wearily toward it. Hours later, exhausted, he reaches the surf and paddles to shore. As he staggers out of the waves, we see his left arm is shackled, and at the other end of the 3-foot chain attached his wrist is a dead man. Our shipwrecked guy struggles up the beach, dragging his deceased companion, and collapses in the shade of the tropical foliage.

Picking up a sharp rock, he brings it down on the chain. Nothing. He tries again. Sparks. He eyes the dead prisoner's pale, tattooed arm.

"Sorry, Billy," he says, as he raises the sharp rock again. This time there is a soft sound instead of a metal sound, and the shipwrecked man gathers up his chain and pushes through the jungle in search of water.

We Have Heard the Chimes at Midnight

2009-03-17T22:43:00.000-07:00

Happy St. Paddy's Day! Tonight I shall feed a drunken Irishman to the Werewolf, as it is the monster's birthday tomorrow.

No Man is an Island

2009-03-16T12:45:00.000-07:00

But the next story will be about one. I have received specific requests to include the following: a menacing island, a volcano, swordplay, humor, horror, T&A.

It's a tall order, my friends. Would you like some chips and salsa while you wait?

I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream

2009-03-13T14:21:00.000-07:00

Anytime you submit a piece of writing--whether it's your grand opus or an amusing tale--to anyone, there is a period that follows between their receiving the work and giving you their reaction. This period is known as the Big Silence, or BS for short. The BS can last for hours, days, or weeks. It is uncomfortable, and the longer it goes, the worse it gets. Rarely does the Big Silence go for months and result in a phone call where someone breathlessly exclaims how amazing your story is and how floored they were by the sheer inventiveness of it. Movie producers are the worst; they sometimes allow the BS to extend into infinity.

I am in the Big Silence right now on a couple of projects.

Someone dropped a pin inside the house up the street. The noise was deafening.

Thanks to Harlan Ellison for the title of this post.

Turn the Page

2009-03-08T10:42:00.001-07:00

Another amazing LEGION layout from Cobi!

The Truth is Out Where?

2009-03-06T15:26:00.000-08:00

THE WOLD is out to people. Who? People. Artists. Designers. Translators. Editors. Imprisoned murderers who wear other folks' faces.

Now I wait. A driven writer would be deep into his next project, instead of reading "Drood", watching UFC fights, and attending Werewolf School. I never claimed to be driven, or even dangerous unless provoked.

I do know the next project will have something to do with Hell or a menacing island. Anybody got a coin I could flip?

Desperately Seeking Artist

2009-03-02T18:28:00.000-08:00

Shane's in on THE WOLD. He needs an artist, but says one need look no further than...Brazil.

Beowulf 1997-2009

2009-02-18T21:10:00.000-08:00

There is no better gift from God than a good dog.

Beowulf, thanks for racing against all those sunsets with me. And for teaching me about the power of silence. My world will never be the same without you, buddy.

ReLegion

2009-02-17T11:29:00.000-08:00

Cobi's Paris job is delayed. He's back at work on LEGION, at least temporarily, and hoping to get 30 pages done by the time he leaves for France in September.

Rolla coasta!

The Wold

2009-02-14T12:17:00.000-08:00

That's the title of the story. What's it about? Here goes:

In 1945, a squad of U.S. soldiers discover a fairy-tale castle in the mountains of Czechoslovakia whose inhabitants seem trapped in time, living as if they were medieval knights. But the castle guards an ancient horror that Hitler planned to use as his final revenge against the Allies and the world. Complications ensue. People die. Horrors may or may not be unleashed. Betrayals happen. Action follows. Worlds collide. Etc...

Someone once asked me, "How do you come up with this shit?" ("shit" in this case referring not to excrement but written material that seems to defy categorization). Good question. Basically, I think of cool things and jam as many of them as possible into a coherent tale.

Man, that sounds easy.

Mistakes Were Made

2009-02-12T11:03:00.000-08:00

I apologize. According to my attorney, my recent blogging made it appear as if I had conceived, developed, and completed a script in roughly a week. I didn't.

The idea began to take shape seasons ago. I slipped a partial manuscript to Shane last July. I gave an uncompleted rough draft to Danny McGrew at least a year before that. Also, imagine me glaring at the computer monitor for months in different shirts and varying degrees of 5-o'clock shadow and you'll get a more accurate idea of the writing process.

The point is to do whatever it takes to type the words "The End."

Victor Hugo had it right: whenever he finished a manuscript, he'd go out onto his balcony and fire a pistol. Most people picture him shooting it up into the sky, but I prefer to think he tried to pick off anyone he saw walking by at that moment.

Hey, mistakes were made.

The Meet

2009-02-11T22:26:00.000-08:00

I drive down a darkened street mottled by deep shadows of silent oaks. Suddenly, a slender man appears in my headlights, and I stop right there. I get out quickly. There's no sound but his footsteps and the clicking of my warm engine. We shake hands and exchange a few pleasantries. Minutes later, I'm driving off, and Shane has already disappeared back behind a stone wall into the darkness. When I turn the corner it will be like neither of us were there. But one thing is different now: Shane has the document.

We are not spies. We are writers.

He has the document. It is dangerous, and he knows it. If he is enchanted by the magic of the story, it will rob him of sleep, thought, and countless hours of texting back and forth when it would have been so much easier just to call and say it.

We didn't choose this life. We were chosen.

Pay the Fiddler

2009-02-09T17:41:00.000-08:00

Two people are responsible for my finishing the story: Shane Amaya and Danny McGrew.

Shane's genius remains undiscovered, for the most part. But the Brazilians know about it. Ask them. I figured the spec screenplay market would beat my story down. But I also thought Shane might dig it. He did, even though I wasn't sure how to end it. So I kept working.

McGrew is a warrior who demanded that I finish the tale. You don't disappoint a man like that; he'll crush your skull! So I kept working.

Cheers to both of you. And thanks. You're both in the story.

Yes I'm working

2009-02-08T12:43:00.000-08:00

Plot, you can run but you can't hide. I will find you.

I am working inside today. For some reason I don't have any music playing, which makes the silences between the tapping of the keys that much more profound. I keep the curtains drawn. There's nothing to see anyway: the sky sulks, threatening rain. Gloom rules.

I can hear the werewolf pacing outside, restless.

The Mind Boggles

2009-02-05T11:29:00.001-08:00

An idea is rising to the surface. Everyone stand back!

Some things go together naturally. Peanut butter and chocolate. Coffee and productivity. Cagney and Lacey. Tequila and regret. My next project will combine elements that do not go together naturally. In fact, they so do not go together that only a fool would try to combine them into a story. Oh, wait, that's me...

Screw it. Here goes: for my next trick, I shall combine Nazis and gothic knights into a coherent story. The Nazis are the bad guys (in case you were wondering). I'll throw in a castle, and some nice U.S. soldiers to boot. Heck, I'll add a supernatural element as well. And dancing girls! Hmm. Scratch the dancing girls.

The armored gauntlet has been dropped. Hopefully, that crunching sound was not my foot.