Some Thoughts on Screenwriting

I am still in the middle of two writing projects today, one freelance and one for a class, so it is safe to say that I am still in my pajamas and still waiting for the Muse to strike.

For the past three months I have been taking a screenwriting class, mostly because I suddenly started to notice the demand for screenwriters around town. Even though I have three fancy degrees in writing from two fancy schools, never once did I ever take a screenwriting class. I left that stuff to one of my brothers. He went to school in California. It seemed like the thing to do out there. He now makes way more money than me.

All I have to say about screenwriting is that it's hard. Not hard like words fail me, but hard because you have to know how to tell a story economically and thoroughly through images. Written. On a page. Maybe I'm making this out to be more than it is, but I can tell you that I've learned more about storytelling over the past three months than I did in all the years I was in the fancy schools.

I understand why people want to write screenplays. Hollywood seems like a glamorous place and I suppose being given a lump of money for your work is a good time. After seeing what goes into writing feature-length screenplays, the treatments, all the drafts, even the formatting, I have a greater appreciation for the craft. Sure, the writers get a lump of money, but talk about earning your keep.

I also don't understand how anyone could even attempt to write one of these things without ever taking a class or a workshop in it. Like I said, as someone who was a complete newbie the experience has been invaluable. I'm planning on taking others...not so much to make it a career or to hit the jackpot with some Charlie Kaufman-esque brilliance, but to just wrap my brain around the genre a little more. You can't learn to dance after just one salsa lessons, and I suppose the same is true with screenwriting.

OK, back to the real work.

The Writing Brain Freeze

I got up at 6:00 AM this morning, mostly to make Le Doug tea before he went to work and to feed the cats. Since I was awake and the house was warm, I started in on some writing. First it was contacting people for a freelance story I am working on today, then while I waited for them to call me back I worked on a little children's story that occured to me, almost out of nowhere.

I have spent, literally, the last six hours writing, editing and interviewing people. My brain feels like mush. I know I have to shower and eventually I must eat something. However, I need to talk to more people for my freelance piece. I feel guilty for that. Then again, a shower takes five minutes.

Does any other writer feel this way? Does your brain ever literally hurt after writing for hours? I think getting up early is the key to being productive. It's also really quiet out here in Greenwich. How very Zen.

The Singing 'O' Face....

Most of you know that I really like singing, have performed and like to keep on the up and up with it. That said, karaoke is my bag, baby. However, after looking at some recent photos, I'm noticing that when I sing, I make strnage faces. Teachers I have had have told me this is normal, that in order to get sound out, sometimes one must sacrifice the pretty. I guess I'll just have to get used to it.

For instance, this is me right this second, on a fairly slow Sunday, post-yoga and post-household chores.


And these are shots of my singing to "Sweet Caroline" at Bruno's Birthday two weeks ago. Despite being dressed and showered and fully makeup'd, I would argue that the faces made when singing don't translate well into photos. Grrrrr.

...Sweet Caroline....bahm! bahm! bahm!


...touching hands....reaching out...


In other news, this is one of the greatest articles the New York Times has ever written, about how the Bride and Tunnel folk have ruined Saturday night in NYC. At last, the newspaper of record finds a real story and one that I agree with 100%.

Tip of the Hat, Wag of the Finger

A Wag of the Finger goes to the Bridgeport Yellow Cab who failed to pick me up last night to go to the Fairfield train station. Even though I set up an 11 p.m. pick up 45 minutes in advance, the cabbie called me at 11:20 p.m. claiming he had just gotten the job. Dispatch accused him of being a liar. Nevertheless, I was stuck in Trumbull with no way home to Old Greenwich. Riddle me this, Bridgeport Yellow Cab: When your entire business revolves around picking people up and taking them places, how do you have any business when you fail to do that?

Luckily, I can give a Tip of the Hat to The Limousine Service of Greenwich, who sent a car up to get me at 1 a.m. and zipped me home in less than half an hour. Me thinks this was in large part because Le Doug has been a loyal customer for years. Big ups to Marty, the driver, for having a great sense of humor, even when we got lost in the dark, woodsy part of Stamford.

P.S. Can anyone tell me when it's getting hard to upload Flickr photos to the new Blogger Beta? Thanx.

Fled the City

I wisely dashed out of NYC last night in order to avoid the crowds at Grand Central today. For the next four days (at least) I plan to hang out at Le Doug's joint in Old Greenwich. I'll have the place to myself since Doug is going out to Pennsylvania to visit some grad school friends. My job is to watch the house and, more importantly, Maestro and Mozart. The Boys cannot be left alone. Yes, I realize they are cats with brains the size of walnuts, but Le Doug and I feared they would have too much separation anxiety if we left them alone. Yes, we know we are crazy.
Given that I have all this free time, I plan to spend it wisely. I have books to read, such as Benjamin Kunkel's "Indecision" and Anne Tyler's "Saint Maybe." There is a novel to work on as well as assignments to finish for my screenwriting class. I would like to start my Christmas cards and do some Christmas shopping. I have some play dates set up with CT friends.
And of course, sleep. That has bgeen in short supply lately.

Bruno Turns 35!!!!

Bruno and I have been friends for many years, so when I was summoned to Chinatown for some festive karaoke, I couldn't say no. Not only was it Bruno's birthday, but we were at Winnie's on Bayard Street. As many of you know, I lived on Bayard Street back in 2002. It was my favorite neighborhood, ever.

First, some establishing shots:

Paper Lanterns


Signage


Bruno ponders his karaoke selections


This guy freaked out on the mic during "Bohemian Rhapsody." It was actually kind of funny.


...and he's spent!


Eventually, I took the mic for the first of many songs. "Manic Monday" by the Bangles was my warm-up and a crowd pleaser. Recognize.


The bar owner was a really friendly guy.


Party people.


Then my camera died. There were many photobloggers there and cameras flashed all over, all night. Once Bruno and some others send over their snaps, I'll be sure to post them. Bruno's birthday was a crazy time with crazy folks and it most def deserves more than one post.

Hope you had a good one, Bruno!


The whole set can be found here

Things That Are Awesome

My column in The Simon about how crazy isn't just for women anymore.

Jay McInerney's column in New York magazine this week about the demise of the idea of the Upper East Side.

A Random Weekend in Syracuse

A few weeks back Cara had this crazy idea to go up to Syracuse University, where we went as undergrads. Thing is, she didn't want to go on Homecoming when other old folks like us would be there. She wanted to go on a random weekend, when hotel rates would be low and the kids would just be scampering about. I hadn't been up in over five years, so I hopped into the car and drove up with Cara and Julie.

Given that is was November, it was gray in Syracuse. After checking into the hotel out first order of business was the go to Wegmans and picl up some supplies.

For a grocery store in a crappy town in Central New York, Wegmans had a lot of newspapers.


Cara really liked the melons.


Then we hit the candy aisle, where things got a little saucy. You really haven't lived until you've been spanked in a grocery store.


We hit the hotel bar late night, where some creepy guys who were also up on a random weekend tried to pick us up. Who could blame them, really? Hotties.


Cara and Julie hold up the bar.


The next morning we decided to loaf around campus. This was the view from our room at 8:30 AM.


It really wasn't cold enough for that jacket. Force of habit, I suppose.


...and we're walking...


Rain and all, it was still a nice day by Syracuse standards.


Eventually we made it over to Comstock Avenue, where the three of us used to live in the Alpha Gamma Delta House. It has since been closed due to alcohol violations (big shock) and is slated to recolonize in the next few years. In the meantime, the University is using it as a women's dorm. We decided to investigate.


We had heard through the grapevine that dorky female engineering students were living there, as well as a fraternity. Instead, we were greeted by these nice girls, all freshmen, who wanted to know all about the house, who had lived there, etc. None of them were dorks or engineering students. They were only allowed on the ground and top floor, and not in the basement, where there are more rooms as well as the elusive chapter room where we would circle each other's fat and put pledges in coffins.


Cara, Julie and I upstairs where men were never allowed. While we were there talking to the frosh, a guy slipped out of a girl's room at noon. Awesome.


More of the house. This is staircase that descends up to the second floor. The house was desgined by the Alpha Gam founder, an architect, so that 30 girls live on one floor. There is one huge bathroom and about 15 bedrooms. On weekends, craziness ensues.


When the sorority moved out in 2002 International took out all the nice, fancy furniture that had been there since the 1920s so that the house would have it when they regrouped. In its place, Syracuse put in all this crappy dorm furniture. Nevertheless, try to picutre this room with Stickley couches, lamps and tables, a Christmas tree in the corner and hung over girls in pajamas on Friday mornings.


Heading down to the street. We were very happy to see that such nice girls were living in our house. Bye Alpha Gamma Delta!


Here's where the trip gets a little lame. In true Syracuse fashion, the weather turned nasty on us and it started raining really hard. It was so bad we couldn't drive to the Turning Stone Casino an hour away. Instead, we went to the mall and I saw the Borat movie for the third time! We were forced to stay in for most of the night. Also strange, there were no kids out. None! Back in our day (late 1990s) we would have been tearing up Marshall Street in the snow! Perhaps things have tamed a bit. Losers.


Eventually Cara got a little restless.


Exhausted, she and Julie took a snuggle while we watched the first Back to the Future on TV.


On the way home on Sunday we hit this nasty bit of fog right outside Cortland. Central New York, why do you suck so much?


The whole set can be found here.

Off to Central New York!

There is much craziness in Manhattan, so Cara, Julie and I are headed up to Syracuse for the weekend. No, it's not Homecoming. We're just going up to experience Central New York in all its November splendor. (Please stop laughing.)

There will be photos of all the Tom Foolery on Monday.

Until then...Go Cuse!

Sunday.

Remember that day
Originally uploaded by Ollily.

It was another weekend in Old Greenwich, one that was marked by a special occaision: someone actually agreed to get into a car with me. That brave soul was none other than Le Doug, a man who has shown bravery as a naval aviator, as a Wall Street investor, and as a passenger in amoving vehicle with me at the helm.

The Beamer was on the fritz today, so perhaps part of this decision was based on the fact that if I crashed, I would have crashed a loaner Buick Lucerne as opposed to his beloved 5 series. Nevertheless, we made it from OG to the Stamford Mall, where I enjoyed my second viewing of Borat and Le Doug experienced his first.

On the way home I had to navigate, in the dark no less, a treacherous strip in Stamford where people quite literally walk in front of moving cars. I don't know why anyone would knowingly walk in the middle of the Post Road, but every time I have ever cruised through this section I have had to dart pedestrians who seemed to be oblivious to the existance of the sidewalk. There was also one 12-year-old boy, on a bike and dressed in black, who thought it was logical to pedal against oncoming traffic.

Le Doug, always a man of patience, tried to school me in always being a smooth driver and used some flight instructor examples about anticipating everything, including 12 year old boys on bikes dressed in back who exercise poor judgement. In all, we got home in one piece, enlightened by yet another screening of Borat.

Champagne on a Thursday Night

The beauty of Erin C. is that whenever I'm on the brink of a homicidal rage she sends me an e-mail that reads something like this:

Want to go the the Moet/VH1 party tonight?

...and once again all is right in the world.

Let's go to the videotape.

The Theme of the Evening


How can one not be fabulous with all the free bubbly lying around?


Party People


Erin C. Checks Out the Scene


As Did I


Romantic Lighting


Tangled Up in Blue


Best. Photo. Of. The. Evening.


Next weekend: The Syracuse gals and I head back up to to the tundra to get in touch with the Yutes.

Will Borat Go the Way of Austin Powers?

This morning I was alerted to this post about how once the Borat movie film officially comes out, it will officially be over. The guy's got a point...

Yesterday's column on The Simon about the decline of the Metro-North railroad.

Photos from last night coming up soon!

Read Some Stuff I Wrote

Two profiles that I wrote last week:

Christian Finnegan: Funny guy, spikey hair.

Kyle Smith: Film critic, novelist, red head.