Public opinion is “nearing a tipping point” on Iraq, said Robert Kuttner in The Boston Globe. Until Cindy Sheehan parked herself in protest outside President Bush’s ranch in Crawford, Texas, most Americans paid little attention to our faraway desert war. But Sheehan, the grieving mother of a dead soldier, has given the terrible cost of the Iraqi conflict a human face. Bush’s “inept response” to Sheehan only heightened the impression that his mission in Iraq is to avoid admitting it was all a mistake. If Bush won’t listen to Sheehan, said Michael Scherer in Salon.com, perhaps the majority of Americans will carry some weight. A new Gallup poll shows that 56 percent of Americans believe Bush “should withdraw either some or all of the troops stationed in Iraq.” And in a stunning repudiation of his rationale for the war, 57 percent believe the war has made America more vulnerable to terrorism. “‘Stay the course’ is not a policy,” said Sen. Chuck Hagel (R-Neb.) last weekend. “We’re not winning.”
It’s true—the public is souring on the war, said David Frum in National Review Online. The media’s negative coverage is partly responsible for that. But so is Bush’s failure to explain the enormous progress that’s been made, and to make a convincing case that it’s in America’s best interest to finish the job. In two speeches this week, Bush said we owe it to the dead to fight on, and that Iraqi democracy will make us more secure—nothing he hasn’t said “a hundred times before.” If he’s to rally America behind the war, Bush needs to go to Iraq himself, or come up with some dramatic new public relations campaign.
Critics of the war aren’t doing much better, said David Ignatius in The Washington Post. With Bush flailing, “this should be the Democrats’ moment.” But Democratic leaders are allowing “the most shrill voices in the party”—people like Ted Kennedy and, yes, Cindy Sheehan—to speak for them. There has to be more to the Democrats’ Iraq policy than a sour defeatism, and a “visceral dislike” of Bush. Don’t count on it, said Peter Baker and Shailagh Murray, also in the Post. Democrats are deeply divided on Iraq. Some leaders, still echoing the simplistic anti-war sentiments of the Vietnam era, are clamoring for an immediate pullout. Others, such as Sens. Hillary Clinton and Joe Biden, are critical of the administration’s execution of the war, but favor staying. Still others, like party chairman Howard Dean, prefer to let Bush twist in the wind. A few weeks ago, Senate Democrats held a meeting “to develop a cohesive stance on the war and debated every option—only to break up with no consensus.”
So, that leaves the onus on the president, said Joe Klein in Time. In order to win back popular support, though, Bush must first acknowledge the “unutterable agony this war has caused” in a convincing and heartfelt way. But he will not, or cannot. Bush sees attending funerals of the fallen, or confronting their families’ pain, as a sign of weakness or an admission of error. In actuality, it’s his blithe insistence on putting a happy face on Iraq that’s really feeding the cynicism and doubt. Americans won’t follow the commander in chief’s lead when he spends August kicking back at his ranch, dodging Sheehan and other critics, and delivering boilerplate bromides devoid of emotion. “This is a failure of leadership, perhaps the signal failure of the Bush presidency.”
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Thursday, August 25, 2005
The true measure of faith is in adversity and despair, when God doesn't show up in every blade of grass or storefront church. That's when the true nature of belief comes out. Joy is appropriate to the beginnings of your faith. But sooner or later somebody will get cancer, or your best friends will betray you. That's when you will be tested.
Monday, August 22, 2005
Solitude
by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Laugh, and the world laughs with you:
Weep, and you weep alone;
For the sad old earth
Must borrow its mirth,
It has trouble enough of its own.
Sing, and the hills will answer;
Sigh, it is lost on the air;
The echoes bound
To a joyful sound,
But shrink from voicing care.
Rejoice, and men will seek you;
Grieve, and they turn and go;
They want full measure
Of all your pleasure,
But they do not want your woe.
Be glad, and your friends are many;
Be sad, and you lose them all;
There are none to decline
Your nectared wine,
But alone you must drink life's gall.
Feast, and your halls are crowded;
Fast, and the world goes by;
Succeed and give,
And it helps you live,
But it cannot help you die.
There is room in the halls of pleasure
For a long and lordly train;
But one by one
We must all file on
Through the narrow aisles of pain.
Laugh, and the world laughs with you:
Weep, and you weep alone;
For the sad old earth
Must borrow its mirth,
It has trouble enough of its own.
Sing, and the hills will answer;
Sigh, it is lost on the air;
The echoes bound
To a joyful sound,
But shrink from voicing care.
Rejoice, and men will seek you;
Grieve, and they turn and go;
They want full measure
Of all your pleasure,
But they do not want your woe.
Be glad, and your friends are many;
Be sad, and you lose them all;
There are none to decline
Your nectared wine,
But alone you must drink life's gall.
Feast, and your halls are crowded;
Fast, and the world goes by;
Succeed and give,
And it helps you live,
But it cannot help you die.
There is room in the halls of pleasure
For a long and lordly train;
But one by one
We must all file on
Through the narrow aisles of pain.
Thursday, August 11, 2005
First Corinthans, Chpater 13
If I speak in tongues of men and angels,
but have not love,
I am only a resounding gong or a crashing cymbal.
If I have the gift of prophesy
and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge,
and I have faith that can move mountains,
but I have not love,
I am nothing.
If I give all I posses to the poor
and surrender my body to the flames,
but I have not love,
I gain nothing.
Love is patient, love is kind.
It does not envy, it does not boast,
it is not proud. It is not rude,
it is not self-seeking,
it is not easily angered,
it keeps not record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil,
but rejoices with truth.
It always protects,
always trusts,
always helps,
always preserves.
Love never fails.
But where there are prophecies,
they will cease;
Where there are tongues,
they will be stilled;
Where there is knowledge.
It will pass away.
For now we know in part
we prophecy in part,
But when perfection comes,
the imperfect disappears
When I was a child
I talked like a child,
I thought like a child,
I reasoned like a child.
When I became a man,
I put childish ways behind me.
Now we see but a poor refection, as in a mirror
Then we shall see face to face.
Now I know in part;
then I shall know fully,
as I am fully known.
And now these three remain;
faith, hope, and love.
But the greatest of these is love.
but have not love,
I am only a resounding gong or a crashing cymbal.
If I have the gift of prophesy
and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge,
and I have faith that can move mountains,
but I have not love,
I am nothing.
If I give all I posses to the poor
and surrender my body to the flames,
but I have not love,
I gain nothing.
Love is patient, love is kind.
It does not envy, it does not boast,
it is not proud. It is not rude,
it is not self-seeking,
it is not easily angered,
it keeps not record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil,
but rejoices with truth.
It always protects,
always trusts,
always helps,
always preserves.
Love never fails.
But where there are prophecies,
they will cease;
Where there are tongues,
they will be stilled;
Where there is knowledge.
It will pass away.
For now we know in part
we prophecy in part,
But when perfection comes,
the imperfect disappears
When I was a child
I talked like a child,
I thought like a child,
I reasoned like a child.
When I became a man,
I put childish ways behind me.
Now we see but a poor refection, as in a mirror
Then we shall see face to face.
Now I know in part;
then I shall know fully,
as I am fully known.
And now these three remain;
faith, hope, and love.
But the greatest of these is love.
Thursday, July 28, 2005
Race and Politics
The GOP's surprising apology
The Republicans are finally making amends, said Jim Wooten in The Atlanta Journal-Constitution. Ken Mehlman, head of the Republican National Committee, last week admitted that the party won over the South by playing to the racial fears of white voters. In an appearance before the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, Mehlman apologized for the "Southern Strategy," inaugurated by Richard Nixon in 1968. "Some Republicans gave up on winning the African-American vote, looking the other way or trying to benefit politically from racial polarization," said Mehlman. "I am here today as the Republican national chairman to tell you we were wrong." Mehlman's speech is "an important turning point," said Brendan Miniter in Opinionjournal.com. The GOP is realizing it needs black voters, just as blacks are realizing the Democrats have been taking their vote for granted. This could be the start of a beautiful friendship.
How gullible do Republicans think black people are? said Bob Herbert in The New York Times. Mehlman's "insulting" apology glossed over the ugly reality of the Southern Strategy. Far more than ignore black voters, Republicans exploited resentment of the Democrats' civil rights initiatives, using "code words" and symbolism to fan the flames of racism. In 1980, Ronald Reagan kicked off his presidential campaign with a speech on "states' rights" in Philadelphia, Miss., where three civil-rights workers were murdered in 1964. George H.W. Bush gained the presidency partly through his notorious "Willie Horton" TV ads, which used the menacing mug shot of a black rapist-murderer. And George W. Bush wooed Southern primary voters by giving a speech at Bob Jones University, famous for its ban on interracial dating. Given this history, my guess is Mehlman's apology was aimed not at blacks--of whom the GOP is still "utterly contemptuous'--but at "softening the party's image in the eyes of moderate white voters."
It's even more cynical than that, said Bruce Reed in Slate.com. The GOP really is retiring the Southern Strategy, but only because it's stumbled upon on an even more divisive "wedge issue": gay marriage. Not only does fear of gays deliver the votes of the same white, right-wing Southerners who used to vote GOP out of racism, it also plays well with blacks, Latinos, and even many white Democrats. Best of all, "it works in every part of the country, not just the South." Sure, gay-baiting may be just as cynical and abhorrent as race-baiting, but for the GOP "the key is staying true to your principles: Win first, apologize later."
The Republicans are finally making amends, said Jim Wooten in The Atlanta Journal-Constitution. Ken Mehlman, head of the Republican National Committee, last week admitted that the party won over the South by playing to the racial fears of white voters. In an appearance before the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, Mehlman apologized for the "Southern Strategy," inaugurated by Richard Nixon in 1968. "Some Republicans gave up on winning the African-American vote, looking the other way or trying to benefit politically from racial polarization," said Mehlman. "I am here today as the Republican national chairman to tell you we were wrong." Mehlman's speech is "an important turning point," said Brendan Miniter in Opinionjournal.com. The GOP is realizing it needs black voters, just as blacks are realizing the Democrats have been taking their vote for granted. This could be the start of a beautiful friendship.
How gullible do Republicans think black people are? said Bob Herbert in The New York Times. Mehlman's "insulting" apology glossed over the ugly reality of the Southern Strategy. Far more than ignore black voters, Republicans exploited resentment of the Democrats' civil rights initiatives, using "code words" and symbolism to fan the flames of racism. In 1980, Ronald Reagan kicked off his presidential campaign with a speech on "states' rights" in Philadelphia, Miss., where three civil-rights workers were murdered in 1964. George H.W. Bush gained the presidency partly through his notorious "Willie Horton" TV ads, which used the menacing mug shot of a black rapist-murderer. And George W. Bush wooed Southern primary voters by giving a speech at Bob Jones University, famous for its ban on interracial dating. Given this history, my guess is Mehlman's apology was aimed not at blacks--of whom the GOP is still "utterly contemptuous'--but at "softening the party's image in the eyes of moderate white voters."
It's even more cynical than that, said Bruce Reed in Slate.com. The GOP really is retiring the Southern Strategy, but only because it's stumbled upon on an even more divisive "wedge issue": gay marriage. Not only does fear of gays deliver the votes of the same white, right-wing Southerners who used to vote GOP out of racism, it also plays well with blacks, Latinos, and even many white Democrats. Best of all, "it works in every part of the country, not just the South." Sure, gay-baiting may be just as cynical and abhorrent as race-baiting, but for the GOP "the key is staying true to your principles: Win first, apologize later."
What's Wrong with Islam?
By all outward appearances, said Niall Ferguson in the London Daily Telegraph, Shehzad Tanweer seemed like a perfectly respectable British subject. Born in Yorkshire in 1983, he was the son of a prosperous, Mercedes-driving Pakistani immigrant who ran a popular fishand-chips shop. Shehzad was an avid cricket player, a graduate from Leeds Metropolitan University, amiable and well-liked.He also was, his uncle says, "proud to be British." Yet two weeks ago, the 22-year-old boarded the London Underground with a rucksack full of explosives on his back, and "in the tunnel between Aldgate and Liverpool Street stations, detonated a bomb that killed himself and six other passengers."
The more we find out about Tanweer and his co-conspirators, said Eugene Robinson in The Washington Post, the more baffling they are. These four "unremarkable young men," who murdered 54 people and wounded 700 in the London transit bombings, weren't the kind of raw material you'd normally associate with Islamic terrorism. They didn't grow up in Middle Eastern slums, raised on a diet of hatred against the West. Rather, they were "homegrown" fanatics; all were British citizens with middle- or working-class backgrounds. One of them, 30-year-old Mohammad Sidique Khan, taught disabled students and had a baby daughter and a pregnant wife. Somewhere along the way, "something changed these ordinary men. I'd sure like to know what that was."
The answer, said Hassan Fattah in The New York Times, is alienation. In Leeds--home to three of the bombers--and other Islamic communities all over Europe, the resentment toward the West is palpable. The young men in these enclaves are not truly assimilated. They often have jobs that require them to cater to white Europeans, who treat them grudgingly or with outright contempt. In newspapers every day, and on TV every night, they see Iraqis and other Middle Eastern Muslims being killed by Western and Israeli troops. On the streets of Leeds and Birmingham, many young Muslims say, "We don't condone terrorism, but why are there are only moments of silence for British victims and Americans victims? What about Iraqis and Afghanis and Palestinians? Is Muslim blood cheaper?"
What drives these young men into the hands of terrorist recruiters, said Thomas Friedman, also in the Times, is a powerful "inner conflict." They're raised to believethat Islamic religion and culture are superior, yet come to see that the Muslim world is centuries behind the West, mired in poverty and political impotence. At thesame time, these young men are tempted by the West s decadence, and ashamed of being tempted." For some, the resolution of the paradox is to lash out, and seek the "sick prestige" of martyrdom.Europe had better come to terms with this phenomenon--and soon, said The Boston Globe in an editorial. "There are more than 23 million Muslims in the European Union, about 5 percent of the total population." Their numbers are increasing; "the fertility rate of Europe's Muslims is three times that of the non-Muslim population." Intelligence officials estimate that
1 percent of the continent's Muslims actually sympathize with al Qaida. Do the math: That means Europe contains tens of thousands of ticking, human time bombs. It's considered impolite to ask, said Kathleen Parker in the Orlando Sentinel, but there's no longer any avoiding the question: What's wrong with Islam? In their painful political correctness, British and European leaders are insisting that most Muslims are moderates, and that Islam itself "isn't the problem." If that's truly the case, moderate Muslims will not merely condemn terrorist bombings by their religion's "bad actors"--they will "clean out the mosque, to rid Allah's kingdom of radicals."
We Muslims must first admit the truth, said author Irshad Manji in Time. "For too long, we have been sticking fingers in our ears and chanting, 'Islam means peace.'" But Islam is clearly not "an innocent bystander" to terrorism. The Sept. 11 hijackers, the fanatics who behead innocents in Iraq, and, undoubtedly, the four British bombers all firmly believed the Koran justified their strike against the infidels. Christianity had its holy wars, too, but then it had its Reformation. Now Islam must have its Reformation. We must begin to look inward, and examine what we're teaching disaffected young men in the mosques arid the madrasas. The time for explanations and excuses is over.
The more we find out about Tanweer and his co-conspirators, said Eugene Robinson in The Washington Post, the more baffling they are. These four "unremarkable young men," who murdered 54 people and wounded 700 in the London transit bombings, weren't the kind of raw material you'd normally associate with Islamic terrorism. They didn't grow up in Middle Eastern slums, raised on a diet of hatred against the West. Rather, they were "homegrown" fanatics; all were British citizens with middle- or working-class backgrounds. One of them, 30-year-old Mohammad Sidique Khan, taught disabled students and had a baby daughter and a pregnant wife. Somewhere along the way, "something changed these ordinary men. I'd sure like to know what that was."
The answer, said Hassan Fattah in The New York Times, is alienation. In Leeds--home to three of the bombers--and other Islamic communities all over Europe, the resentment toward the West is palpable. The young men in these enclaves are not truly assimilated. They often have jobs that require them to cater to white Europeans, who treat them grudgingly or with outright contempt. In newspapers every day, and on TV every night, they see Iraqis and other Middle Eastern Muslims being killed by Western and Israeli troops. On the streets of Leeds and Birmingham, many young Muslims say, "We don't condone terrorism, but why are there are only moments of silence for British victims and Americans victims? What about Iraqis and Afghanis and Palestinians? Is Muslim blood cheaper?"
What drives these young men into the hands of terrorist recruiters, said Thomas Friedman, also in the Times, is a powerful "inner conflict." They're raised to believethat Islamic religion and culture are superior, yet come to see that the Muslim world is centuries behind the West, mired in poverty and political impotence. At thesame time, these young men are tempted by the West s decadence, and ashamed of being tempted." For some, the resolution of the paradox is to lash out, and seek the "sick prestige" of martyrdom.Europe had better come to terms with this phenomenon--and soon, said The Boston Globe in an editorial. "There are more than 23 million Muslims in the European Union, about 5 percent of the total population." Their numbers are increasing; "the fertility rate of Europe's Muslims is three times that of the non-Muslim population." Intelligence officials estimate that
1 percent of the continent's Muslims actually sympathize with al Qaida. Do the math: That means Europe contains tens of thousands of ticking, human time bombs. It's considered impolite to ask, said Kathleen Parker in the Orlando Sentinel, but there's no longer any avoiding the question: What's wrong with Islam? In their painful political correctness, British and European leaders are insisting that most Muslims are moderates, and that Islam itself "isn't the problem." If that's truly the case, moderate Muslims will not merely condemn terrorist bombings by their religion's "bad actors"--they will "clean out the mosque, to rid Allah's kingdom of radicals."
We Muslims must first admit the truth, said author Irshad Manji in Time. "For too long, we have been sticking fingers in our ears and chanting, 'Islam means peace.'" But Islam is clearly not "an innocent bystander" to terrorism. The Sept. 11 hijackers, the fanatics who behead innocents in Iraq, and, undoubtedly, the four British bombers all firmly believed the Koran justified their strike against the infidels. Christianity had its holy wars, too, but then it had its Reformation. Now Islam must have its Reformation. We must begin to look inward, and examine what we're teaching disaffected young men in the mosques arid the madrasas. The time for explanations and excuses is over.
The New Evolution
Someone new is in charge of human evolution, said Joel Garreau in the Los Angeles Times. It's humanity itself. "We're at a turning point in history," with science and technology beginning to redesign the human being, in new and improved form. For ill or for good, genetic engineering, designer super drugs, and the merging of man with machine will soon realize many of the dreams of science fiction. Five U.S. drug companies are working on "memory pills" that will keep baby boomers' minds sharp indefinitely and "revolutionize education of the young." Some scientists think they could turn legions of poor learners into A students, and boost SAT scores by 200 points. Another company is now testing a "pain vaccine" that would leave people virtually immune to bodily suffering for a month--which athletes might find handy prior to a marathon, or women during childbirth. And the 2004 Athens Olympics may have been the last in which competitors are not secretly genetically altered to have more muscular, efficient bodies. In recent months, a private company has developed technology enabling a paralyzed Boston man to send e-mails with his thoughts and to control a robotic arm. Before too long, we'll see the creation of cyborgs--human beings integrated with computer chips, mechanical parts, and organs grown from stem cells. That and other medical advances may extend the average human tife span to 120 or even 150 years. Is all of this ethical-or even desirable? "It won't be easy for us to choose. Yet choose we must."
Saturday, July 23, 2005
Crap + 1
from wordplay.com
I have a screenwriting friend who, when he sees a great movie, gets quite depressed. There's such a gap, he feels, between the work he does and what's up there on screen, how could he feel anything but inadequate and terrible? Then he goes and sees an awful film, and emerges from the theater ebullient. "I can't believe that thing got made," he says, "but it gives me hope."
It's a sentiment often echoed by screenwriters trying to break in when they self-assess their work. "It's not the greatest," they'll say, "But it's better than half the junk I see out there that sells."
My writing partner, Ted Elliott, points out the fallacy of this thinking. "To look at the crap that's out there, and aim for just better than that, isn't much of a goal," he says. "'Crap-plus-one' isn't really worth aspiring to. And it's not much of a career strategy." Better to be inspired by the classics and aim for that level, he says, even if it's never reached.
I agree, but for another, more practical reason: a film you see in the theater tells you nothing about the original screenplay that propelled that film into production.
Nothing.
People (including critics) who speak about a screenplay based on the film in theaters are demonstrating their ignorance of the business. You think the script to WATERWORLD sucked? Maybe it did, maybe not. I don't know, I haven't read it. LAST ACTION HERO? I heard the original script was actually quite decent, but I couldn't tell you for sure. Again -- I haven't read it.
This flies in the face of common practice, I know. People see a film and say, "The cinematography was nice, but the script sucked" and we know what they mean -- the story didn't work, and the story is the province of the writer, right? Critics will watch a film and comment, "Director Smithee struggles valiantly trying to elevate mediocre material into something worth watching." Even film pros talk about unsatisfying endings and muddled Act Twos as if the films we see are faithful visual realizations of the written screenplay.
If only it were so. It's become one of the mantras of the Wordplay site: you can't tell anything about the screenplay of a film until you've actually read the screenplay.
This holds especially true for bad films. Farfetched analogy time: If a dinner entrée or desert is fabulous, it makes sense to assume the recipe was good. But when an entrée arrives from the kitchen burnt into a smoking charcoal lump, would your first thought be to blame the recipe? Only if you're a film critic, it seems. When the food is great, the cook is a star, but when the dish is served cold and underdone, the poor chef 'struggled valiantly trying to elevate a mediocre recipe into something worth eating.'
It's not just directors who mess up screenplays. Studio executives, stars, and producers can all play a part.
Some first-hand examples...
Thank God the studio pulled the plug, or there would have been another horrible film out there to mislead writers into thinking they could do better.
II. THUMBS DOWN, WAY WAY DOWN
Ted and I wrote an adaptation of the classic Edgar Rice Burroughs novel "A Princess of Mars." You know, John Carter of Virginia, swordfights with four-armed Martian Tharks, love across the gulf between planets, that sort of thing. The studio was quite pleased with the draft, sent it out to directors, and landed an A-list guy: John McTiernan.
McTiernan met with us... and barely spoke. He spent the whole time with his head down, sketching out plans to reassemble parcels of his grandparents' farm back east. Clearly our meeting was a formality, and he'd decided to 'go in another direction,' as they say. It wasn't a surprise to find out later that Bob Gale had been hired to do his rewrite.
Turned out McTiernan wasn't interested in doing an elegant science-fiction swashbuckler at all -- he wanted a blood-and-guts action film. Under his direction, John Carter became a washed-up alcoholic, and for humor, the Tharks made jokes about "John Carter of Vagina."
Yeech.
Thank God the studio pulled the plug, or there would have been another horrible film out there to mislead writers into thinking they could do better. It's scary to think -- due to McTiernan's clout -- how close the studio came to green-lighting a picture even they knew was terrible.
But the director got the story he wanted... and if the film had made it to theaters, you know the critics would have sympathized with his valiant efforts to elevate all that weak material. And aspiring writers across the country would be encouraged.
Another example, this time a film that got made:
Ted and I spent two years working on various drafts of an adaptation of Robert Heinlein's novel "The Puppet Masters." Screenwriter David Goyer then did several drafts, and the studio gave the picture a green light.
British director Steward Orme was signed. Two weeks before principal photography was to begin, he sat down with his hand-picked writers, and set about deciding what to film. All the work, all the story meetings, all the studio notes, the original novel, all the drafts done by four or five different writers and writing teams with various executives and producers over the previous two years -- all of it was thrown out the window. A draft would be written in two weeks, and that would be the movie that hit the screens.
This isn't as rare an occurrence as we'd all like to hope. Studio folk, those people who fight like Rottweilers over the smallest story bone and bit of dialogue gristle during the development process, turn into lap-dogs when faced with the momentum of actual production and the charismatic power of a director. They cower down and whimper and thump their little tails while the Alpha-dog feasts.
On THE PUPPET MASTERS, Stewart had 14 days to rework the entire story from square one -- characters, dialogue, setting, everything. The results were not impressive. In this case, after the revised draft was delivered, Jeffrey Katzenberg forced the production team to go back to an earlier draft. Of course the film that eventually emerged from that process was abysmal. (For a more detailed version of this experience, check out Column #15, Building the Bomb).
Another example (gee, they get more painful as I go along):
In 1989, film critics Roger Ebert and Gene Siskel dubbed LITTLE MONSTERS one of the ten worst films of the year. It starred Howie Mandel and Fred Savage. "How could Fred Savage's people let him get involved in such a mess?" Ebert complained, "Didn't they even read the script?"
Shame on you, Roger. Yes, they did read the script -- the original screenplay Ted and I wrote, the one that got the studio interested in making the movie in the first place. Then the Writer's Guild strike hit, and the producer and director took the opportunity (with a scab writer) to re-write the film into a piece of dreck -- AFTER Fred Savage had committed to it. The studio wasn't happy, but as usual, didn't want to 'tie the hands' of the director they'd hired.
So the film comes out, it's terrible, and Siskel and Ebert rail on and on about the dreadful screenplay. Without ever having bothered to read the screenplay, of course. To this day we have executives from that company tell us they mourn the film that could have been made -- the film they bought, green lit, and never got to see.
Okay, last example:
Ted and I wrote a draft of GODZILLA which attracted the involvement of Director Jan De Bont. (This, by the way, is the best way writers have of getting a good reputation in Hollywood -- if your screenplay can attract talent to it, they love you. It makes sense... studio people don't know how to make films. That's why they need directors and producers, and stars. If your script can draw those elements, as a screenwriter, you've truly done your job.)
So, the studio loves the script, and they dive into pre-production. But alas, budget differences and other issues force De Bont and the studio to part ways.
Enter writer-producer-directors Roland Emmerich and Dean Devlin. They are very polite and complimentary about the existing screenplay, and very politely go down to Mexico to write their own draft over a two-week period.
So the studio, TriStar pictures, denounces this tactic, supports the original script, and boots them from the production --
Oops, sorry. Meant to say -- so the studio folk roll over and wriggle happily while Dean and Roland rub their collective tummy. And that's how the world was given the abysmal GODZILLA film of '98, where the big green lizard actually runs and hides when shot at (ah, but that's another story... and a future column).
What the non-Hollywood writer needs to know is this: they can have the obviously better version sitting on their desk right in front of them. And they can have paid a lot of money for it. And still they won't use it.
There are very few writers who are so naturally gifted that they can knock it out of the park on their first script (or second, or third).
III. STANDARDS & PRACTICES
So what does all this mean -- other than you're reading advice from someone who's managed to get his name on several terrible movies? Just this: a screenwriter looking at just the finished product can get a skewed idea of the quality of writing necessary to get attention in Hollywood.
The standards applied to the first-time writer are actually quite high.
Ironically -- and frustratingly -- the standards might even be higher for a first-time writer than for an established pro. I believe it's human nature for quality to be 'read into' the work of a big name writer, and for problems to be 'read into' the work of a beginner. And a big name writer can survive one or two mediocre drafts, whereas a first-time writer will never get another chance. This seems unfair, but in a way it's not. Time to roll out another analogy: you could watch Ken Griffey Jr. strike out a dozen times in a row, and say, "Hell, I could do that bad." But he's not getting paid for those strikeouts, he's getting paid for the 40 home runs he hit the year before.
Dean and Roland got their GODZILLA draft made because they had the number one film two years earlier with INDEPENDENCE DAY.
So despite all appearances to the contrary, there are standards in Hollywood, and they could even be described as 'lofty.' And if you're going to write to those standards, the first thing you have to do is be able to recognize them.
In fact, the two abilities are related. It's a bit like that old saw about wondering if you're crazy -- if you're really worried about being nuts, chances are you're not. So go ahead, yes, worry about the quality of your script -- that's a good thing, it can only help the quality of your work.
Quite often even pro writers complete their screenplays with some trepidation, an anxious, "What did you think of it?" feeling, even if they suspect they've nailed it. There are very few writers who are so naturally gifted that they can knock it out of the park on their first script (or second, or third). And yet, there are many pre-pros who not only believe they can, but believe they have. "I came up with it" is like great cinematography; it makes the scene more attractive, the story more compelling -- if only to an audience of one.
This lack of objectivity is a bad thing -- in many ways:
It causes writers to put their work out into the world too quickly, and garner confidence-eroding rejections.
It creates garbage dump piles of screenplays that clog the entire system.
It makes getting a script read ten times harder; so many scripts are bad, nobody wants to read anything.
It means even good scripts will be poorly read; the expectation of problems, based on years of reading dreck, causes people to look for problems and find them.
And it can lead to an obstinate, hooves-dug-in "it's not me, it's Hollywood" mindset among new writers. The thinking goes -- "Since Hollywood rejects me -- a great writer -- it's clear that Hollywood has some other requisites for becoming a screenwriter than great writing." (Odd thing: this attitude can manifest even before the theoretical pre-pro has had any contact with Hollywood at all.)
The solution?
Objectivity.
Objectivity is your friend.
All writers should try this test -- take a copy of a great script (Say, BODY HEAT or THE SIXTH SENSE) and lay it down side-by-side with your own script. Read page one of the great script. Read your page one. Do the same for page two. Count the great descriptive lines, the compelling lines of dialogue, the interesting character bits, the compelling situations. Actually count them, and compare. If they're not comparable, figure out why.
You need to be able to see the difference.
You need to be able to judge your work against other great work.
Objectivity is one of the single most important qualities that an aspiring screenwriter must acquire -- and we think it's the attitude that marks the real difference between the writer who has a chance to become a professional, and one who has no chance.
Because writing is ultimately about communication. And communication is a learned skill. And any skill, when assessed objectively, can be improved.
In the heat of creation, the writer is the writing -- until you type The End on that first draft. From that point forward, the script is an attempt to communicate to others who you are. And that's how it's judged by others -- and should be judged by yourself. You go from author, to audience. Not: this is 'who I am.' Rather: this is an effort on the part of a writer to communicate 'who I am.'
If others judge the writing as 'poor,' they are not judging you as 'poor' -- they are judging this one specific attempt to communicate as 'poor.' But the good news is: since communication is a learned intellectual construct -- you can learn to do it better.
If someone says your characters are weak, you can learn to make your characters stronger.
If someone say your dialogue is wooden, you can learn to make your dialogue more natural.
If someone says your story does not move them, you can learn to make your stories more compelling.
If someone says "Your script is not suitable to our present needs," you can learn to make your next script exactly what they need -- but didn't know they needed.
But if you assume 'not suitable' means they only want family members' scripts, or they only want bad scripts, or they don't have the aesthetic ability to recognize a good script, or Hollywood is plotting against you -- then there's little chance that you'll learn anything.
When you think about it, that's the whole reason why particular writers get hired, and re-hired: they're selling their targets.
IV. TARGET PRACTICE
Bad writers are bad because they stop too soon.
In fact, let's take a step back. The only quality, I think, that marks the writer as different from everyone else is simply an unwillingness to quit. Others give up when they learn writing is hard; the writer struggles on.
When I sit down in front of the blank page, it's no easier for me to fill it than anyone else. The non-writer looks at the blank page and -- quite sensibly -- says, 'forget it, I'm outta here.' But if they had to, they could put a few words down there -- just like I do.
Only the words wouldn't be any good. So the non-writer gets frustrated, gives up and leaves. Me, too, I get frustrated... but I sit there, and work to make it better.
Anybody who's willing to struggle, I think, can write.
But can they write well?
The bad writer finishes a first draft, dubs it gold, and sends it out. There's the problem, right there -- they stop writing too soon. They aren't willing to do the real work, the hard work, of telling the story. The work that the story demands. They dash off the parts that are easy, and develop an odd kind of blindness toward the rest. Consider this quote from M. Night Shyamalan, regarding THE SIXTH SENSE:
"It wasn't until about the fifth draft that I really began to figure it out. It was then that I realized he's dead. It took me five more drafts to execute it right."
You have to do the work, not avoid it.
You have to find the promise of the story, and fulfill it.
A bad writer is satisfied at coming close, at just finishing the first stab. At executing the vision that was in their head. They know the scene is supposed to be funny, or scary, or exciting... so they'll sketch out a faint image of the scene, that points to what it should be, and figure that's enough.
It's not enough.
That's like saying you're a long distance runner... but you never leave the couch, remote control in hand, bag of potato chips on your belly.
The real work is to stick at it until you find the gold. To get to that funny line. To do the hard work no one else wants to do, but everyone wants to have done. To discover the great character bit, the clever story turn. Until you have it, you don't have it. Until it's there, it's not there -- and you need to stick at it until it is there.
That's what aiming higher than crap-plus-one is all about.
That's your target.
Another quote from Shyamalan:
"I didn't want [critic] Steven Holden of the "New York Times" to hold my destiny, and he does with a lot of small films. So I decided I was going to write the greatest script, and everything was going to change. It's going to be mine, and they'll have to let me direct it because they won't get it any other way."
When you think about it, that's the whole reason why particular writers get hired, and re-hired: they're selling their targets. The spec script is like the high water mark of the tide coming in: evidence that you've been there, and can get back there again. Or at least, that's what you'll aim for. You sell your high standards, and then hope to hell you can live up to them.
William Goldman points out in his book "Which Lie Did I Tell?" that every great film runs neck and neck with the bad version of itself... and often a bad film runs neck and neck with its good counterpart.
Sometimes the great version of the film pulls away and wins by 20 lengths.
Sometimes the bad verson of the film wins by a nose.
The next time you have to sit through a film where the bad version came out ahead, consider that, quite likely, there's a script sitting somewhere that's possibly quite brilliant, and inspired the whole race.
Yes, true, films get made for many reasons, and not always because of a great script. As Ted says -- each film produced is a unique event, the forces involved distinct from every other film ever made.
Sure, sometimes a bad script does get plucked out of the pile, just to fill a release date.
You can't count on that.
Sometimes a star needs to be in a movie -- any movie, to fulfill a contractual obligation. And so a bad script gets green-lit.
You can't count on that.
Sometimes a screenplay with a great premise gets put into production, in the hopes that the director or star writer or star can pull it out during the process.
You can't count on that, either.
The only thing you can count on is the quality of your work. The surest bet is to be the best -- because over time, talent will out. It's commonly believed and commonly true. Great screenplays will get attention. It may take a while, but they will.
Not crap-plus-one, but brilliance, absolute perfection, that's your goal... and if you should fall one tick short of that, you'll still be in pretty good shape.
You have to be inspired by the best, in order to do your best.Nothing less will do.
I have a screenwriting friend who, when he sees a great movie, gets quite depressed. There's such a gap, he feels, between the work he does and what's up there on screen, how could he feel anything but inadequate and terrible? Then he goes and sees an awful film, and emerges from the theater ebullient. "I can't believe that thing got made," he says, "but it gives me hope."
It's a sentiment often echoed by screenwriters trying to break in when they self-assess their work. "It's not the greatest," they'll say, "But it's better than half the junk I see out there that sells."
My writing partner, Ted Elliott, points out the fallacy of this thinking. "To look at the crap that's out there, and aim for just better than that, isn't much of a goal," he says. "'Crap-plus-one' isn't really worth aspiring to. And it's not much of a career strategy." Better to be inspired by the classics and aim for that level, he says, even if it's never reached.
I agree, but for another, more practical reason: a film you see in the theater tells you nothing about the original screenplay that propelled that film into production.
Nothing.
People (including critics) who speak about a screenplay based on the film in theaters are demonstrating their ignorance of the business. You think the script to WATERWORLD sucked? Maybe it did, maybe not. I don't know, I haven't read it. LAST ACTION HERO? I heard the original script was actually quite decent, but I couldn't tell you for sure. Again -- I haven't read it.
This flies in the face of common practice, I know. People see a film and say, "The cinematography was nice, but the script sucked" and we know what they mean -- the story didn't work, and the story is the province of the writer, right? Critics will watch a film and comment, "Director Smithee struggles valiantly trying to elevate mediocre material into something worth watching." Even film pros talk about unsatisfying endings and muddled Act Twos as if the films we see are faithful visual realizations of the written screenplay.
If only it were so. It's become one of the mantras of the Wordplay site: you can't tell anything about the screenplay of a film until you've actually read the screenplay.
This holds especially true for bad films. Farfetched analogy time: If a dinner entrée or desert is fabulous, it makes sense to assume the recipe was good. But when an entrée arrives from the kitchen burnt into a smoking charcoal lump, would your first thought be to blame the recipe? Only if you're a film critic, it seems. When the food is great, the cook is a star, but when the dish is served cold and underdone, the poor chef 'struggled valiantly trying to elevate a mediocre recipe into something worth eating.'
It's not just directors who mess up screenplays. Studio executives, stars, and producers can all play a part.
Some first-hand examples...
Thank God the studio pulled the plug, or there would have been another horrible film out there to mislead writers into thinking they could do better.
II. THUMBS DOWN, WAY WAY DOWN
Ted and I wrote an adaptation of the classic Edgar Rice Burroughs novel "A Princess of Mars." You know, John Carter of Virginia, swordfights with four-armed Martian Tharks, love across the gulf between planets, that sort of thing. The studio was quite pleased with the draft, sent it out to directors, and landed an A-list guy: John McTiernan.
McTiernan met with us... and barely spoke. He spent the whole time with his head down, sketching out plans to reassemble parcels of his grandparents' farm back east. Clearly our meeting was a formality, and he'd decided to 'go in another direction,' as they say. It wasn't a surprise to find out later that Bob Gale had been hired to do his rewrite.
Turned out McTiernan wasn't interested in doing an elegant science-fiction swashbuckler at all -- he wanted a blood-and-guts action film. Under his direction, John Carter became a washed-up alcoholic, and for humor, the Tharks made jokes about "John Carter of Vagina."
Yeech.
Thank God the studio pulled the plug, or there would have been another horrible film out there to mislead writers into thinking they could do better. It's scary to think -- due to McTiernan's clout -- how close the studio came to green-lighting a picture even they knew was terrible.
But the director got the story he wanted... and if the film had made it to theaters, you know the critics would have sympathized with his valiant efforts to elevate all that weak material. And aspiring writers across the country would be encouraged.
Another example, this time a film that got made:
Ted and I spent two years working on various drafts of an adaptation of Robert Heinlein's novel "The Puppet Masters." Screenwriter David Goyer then did several drafts, and the studio gave the picture a green light.
British director Steward Orme was signed. Two weeks before principal photography was to begin, he sat down with his hand-picked writers, and set about deciding what to film. All the work, all the story meetings, all the studio notes, the original novel, all the drafts done by four or five different writers and writing teams with various executives and producers over the previous two years -- all of it was thrown out the window. A draft would be written in two weeks, and that would be the movie that hit the screens.
This isn't as rare an occurrence as we'd all like to hope. Studio folk, those people who fight like Rottweilers over the smallest story bone and bit of dialogue gristle during the development process, turn into lap-dogs when faced with the momentum of actual production and the charismatic power of a director. They cower down and whimper and thump their little tails while the Alpha-dog feasts.
On THE PUPPET MASTERS, Stewart had 14 days to rework the entire story from square one -- characters, dialogue, setting, everything. The results were not impressive. In this case, after the revised draft was delivered, Jeffrey Katzenberg forced the production team to go back to an earlier draft. Of course the film that eventually emerged from that process was abysmal. (For a more detailed version of this experience, check out Column #15, Building the Bomb).
Another example (gee, they get more painful as I go along):
In 1989, film critics Roger Ebert and Gene Siskel dubbed LITTLE MONSTERS one of the ten worst films of the year. It starred Howie Mandel and Fred Savage. "How could Fred Savage's people let him get involved in such a mess?" Ebert complained, "Didn't they even read the script?"
Shame on you, Roger. Yes, they did read the script -- the original screenplay Ted and I wrote, the one that got the studio interested in making the movie in the first place. Then the Writer's Guild strike hit, and the producer and director took the opportunity (with a scab writer) to re-write the film into a piece of dreck -- AFTER Fred Savage had committed to it. The studio wasn't happy, but as usual, didn't want to 'tie the hands' of the director they'd hired.
So the film comes out, it's terrible, and Siskel and Ebert rail on and on about the dreadful screenplay. Without ever having bothered to read the screenplay, of course. To this day we have executives from that company tell us they mourn the film that could have been made -- the film they bought, green lit, and never got to see.
Okay, last example:
Ted and I wrote a draft of GODZILLA which attracted the involvement of Director Jan De Bont. (This, by the way, is the best way writers have of getting a good reputation in Hollywood -- if your screenplay can attract talent to it, they love you. It makes sense... studio people don't know how to make films. That's why they need directors and producers, and stars. If your script can draw those elements, as a screenwriter, you've truly done your job.)
So, the studio loves the script, and they dive into pre-production. But alas, budget differences and other issues force De Bont and the studio to part ways.
Enter writer-producer-directors Roland Emmerich and Dean Devlin. They are very polite and complimentary about the existing screenplay, and very politely go down to Mexico to write their own draft over a two-week period.
So the studio, TriStar pictures, denounces this tactic, supports the original script, and boots them from the production --
Oops, sorry. Meant to say -- so the studio folk roll over and wriggle happily while Dean and Roland rub their collective tummy. And that's how the world was given the abysmal GODZILLA film of '98, where the big green lizard actually runs and hides when shot at (ah, but that's another story... and a future column).
What the non-Hollywood writer needs to know is this: they can have the obviously better version sitting on their desk right in front of them. And they can have paid a lot of money for it. And still they won't use it.
There are very few writers who are so naturally gifted that they can knock it out of the park on their first script (or second, or third).
III. STANDARDS & PRACTICES
So what does all this mean -- other than you're reading advice from someone who's managed to get his name on several terrible movies? Just this: a screenwriter looking at just the finished product can get a skewed idea of the quality of writing necessary to get attention in Hollywood.
The standards applied to the first-time writer are actually quite high.
Ironically -- and frustratingly -- the standards might even be higher for a first-time writer than for an established pro. I believe it's human nature for quality to be 'read into' the work of a big name writer, and for problems to be 'read into' the work of a beginner. And a big name writer can survive one or two mediocre drafts, whereas a first-time writer will never get another chance. This seems unfair, but in a way it's not. Time to roll out another analogy: you could watch Ken Griffey Jr. strike out a dozen times in a row, and say, "Hell, I could do that bad." But he's not getting paid for those strikeouts, he's getting paid for the 40 home runs he hit the year before.
Dean and Roland got their GODZILLA draft made because they had the number one film two years earlier with INDEPENDENCE DAY.
So despite all appearances to the contrary, there are standards in Hollywood, and they could even be described as 'lofty.' And if you're going to write to those standards, the first thing you have to do is be able to recognize them.
In fact, the two abilities are related. It's a bit like that old saw about wondering if you're crazy -- if you're really worried about being nuts, chances are you're not. So go ahead, yes, worry about the quality of your script -- that's a good thing, it can only help the quality of your work.
Quite often even pro writers complete their screenplays with some trepidation, an anxious, "What did you think of it?" feeling, even if they suspect they've nailed it. There are very few writers who are so naturally gifted that they can knock it out of the park on their first script (or second, or third). And yet, there are many pre-pros who not only believe they can, but believe they have. "I came up with it" is like great cinematography; it makes the scene more attractive, the story more compelling -- if only to an audience of one.
This lack of objectivity is a bad thing -- in many ways:
It causes writers to put their work out into the world too quickly, and garner confidence-eroding rejections.
It creates garbage dump piles of screenplays that clog the entire system.
It makes getting a script read ten times harder; so many scripts are bad, nobody wants to read anything.
It means even good scripts will be poorly read; the expectation of problems, based on years of reading dreck, causes people to look for problems and find them.
And it can lead to an obstinate, hooves-dug-in "it's not me, it's Hollywood" mindset among new writers. The thinking goes -- "Since Hollywood rejects me -- a great writer -- it's clear that Hollywood has some other requisites for becoming a screenwriter than great writing." (Odd thing: this attitude can manifest even before the theoretical pre-pro has had any contact with Hollywood at all.)
The solution?
Objectivity.
Objectivity is your friend.
All writers should try this test -- take a copy of a great script (Say, BODY HEAT or THE SIXTH SENSE) and lay it down side-by-side with your own script. Read page one of the great script. Read your page one. Do the same for page two. Count the great descriptive lines, the compelling lines of dialogue, the interesting character bits, the compelling situations. Actually count them, and compare. If they're not comparable, figure out why.
You need to be able to see the difference.
You need to be able to judge your work against other great work.
Objectivity is one of the single most important qualities that an aspiring screenwriter must acquire -- and we think it's the attitude that marks the real difference between the writer who has a chance to become a professional, and one who has no chance.
Because writing is ultimately about communication. And communication is a learned skill. And any skill, when assessed objectively, can be improved.
In the heat of creation, the writer is the writing -- until you type The End on that first draft. From that point forward, the script is an attempt to communicate to others who you are. And that's how it's judged by others -- and should be judged by yourself. You go from author, to audience. Not: this is 'who I am.' Rather: this is an effort on the part of a writer to communicate 'who I am.'
If others judge the writing as 'poor,' they are not judging you as 'poor' -- they are judging this one specific attempt to communicate as 'poor.' But the good news is: since communication is a learned intellectual construct -- you can learn to do it better.
If someone says your characters are weak, you can learn to make your characters stronger.
If someone say your dialogue is wooden, you can learn to make your dialogue more natural.
If someone says your story does not move them, you can learn to make your stories more compelling.
If someone says "Your script is not suitable to our present needs," you can learn to make your next script exactly what they need -- but didn't know they needed.
But if you assume 'not suitable' means they only want family members' scripts, or they only want bad scripts, or they don't have the aesthetic ability to recognize a good script, or Hollywood is plotting against you -- then there's little chance that you'll learn anything.
When you think about it, that's the whole reason why particular writers get hired, and re-hired: they're selling their targets.
IV. TARGET PRACTICE
Bad writers are bad because they stop too soon.
In fact, let's take a step back. The only quality, I think, that marks the writer as different from everyone else is simply an unwillingness to quit. Others give up when they learn writing is hard; the writer struggles on.
When I sit down in front of the blank page, it's no easier for me to fill it than anyone else. The non-writer looks at the blank page and -- quite sensibly -- says, 'forget it, I'm outta here.' But if they had to, they could put a few words down there -- just like I do.
Only the words wouldn't be any good. So the non-writer gets frustrated, gives up and leaves. Me, too, I get frustrated... but I sit there, and work to make it better.
Anybody who's willing to struggle, I think, can write.
But can they write well?
The bad writer finishes a first draft, dubs it gold, and sends it out. There's the problem, right there -- they stop writing too soon. They aren't willing to do the real work, the hard work, of telling the story. The work that the story demands. They dash off the parts that are easy, and develop an odd kind of blindness toward the rest. Consider this quote from M. Night Shyamalan, regarding THE SIXTH SENSE:
"It wasn't until about the fifth draft that I really began to figure it out. It was then that I realized he's dead. It took me five more drafts to execute it right."
You have to do the work, not avoid it.
You have to find the promise of the story, and fulfill it.
A bad writer is satisfied at coming close, at just finishing the first stab. At executing the vision that was in their head. They know the scene is supposed to be funny, or scary, or exciting... so they'll sketch out a faint image of the scene, that points to what it should be, and figure that's enough.
It's not enough.
That's like saying you're a long distance runner... but you never leave the couch, remote control in hand, bag of potato chips on your belly.
The real work is to stick at it until you find the gold. To get to that funny line. To do the hard work no one else wants to do, but everyone wants to have done. To discover the great character bit, the clever story turn. Until you have it, you don't have it. Until it's there, it's not there -- and you need to stick at it until it is there.
That's what aiming higher than crap-plus-one is all about.
That's your target.
Another quote from Shyamalan:
"I didn't want [critic] Steven Holden of the "New York Times" to hold my destiny, and he does with a lot of small films. So I decided I was going to write the greatest script, and everything was going to change. It's going to be mine, and they'll have to let me direct it because they won't get it any other way."
When you think about it, that's the whole reason why particular writers get hired, and re-hired: they're selling their targets. The spec script is like the high water mark of the tide coming in: evidence that you've been there, and can get back there again. Or at least, that's what you'll aim for. You sell your high standards, and then hope to hell you can live up to them.
William Goldman points out in his book "Which Lie Did I Tell?" that every great film runs neck and neck with the bad version of itself... and often a bad film runs neck and neck with its good counterpart.
Sometimes the great version of the film pulls away and wins by 20 lengths.
Sometimes the bad verson of the film wins by a nose.
The next time you have to sit through a film where the bad version came out ahead, consider that, quite likely, there's a script sitting somewhere that's possibly quite brilliant, and inspired the whole race.
Yes, true, films get made for many reasons, and not always because of a great script. As Ted says -- each film produced is a unique event, the forces involved distinct from every other film ever made.
Sure, sometimes a bad script does get plucked out of the pile, just to fill a release date.
You can't count on that.
Sometimes a star needs to be in a movie -- any movie, to fulfill a contractual obligation. And so a bad script gets green-lit.
You can't count on that.
Sometimes a screenplay with a great premise gets put into production, in the hopes that the director or star writer or star can pull it out during the process.
You can't count on that, either.
The only thing you can count on is the quality of your work. The surest bet is to be the best -- because over time, talent will out. It's commonly believed and commonly true. Great screenplays will get attention. It may take a while, but they will.
Not crap-plus-one, but brilliance, absolute perfection, that's your goal... and if you should fall one tick short of that, you'll still be in pretty good shape.
You have to be inspired by the best, in order to do your best.Nothing less will do.
The first checklist
Concept & Plot
#1. Imagine the trailer. Is the concept marketable?
#2. Is the premise naturally intriguing -- or just average, demanding perfect execution?
#3. Who is the target audience? Would your parents go see it?
#4. Does your story deal with the most important events in the lives of your characters?
#5. If you're writing about a fantasy-come-true, turn it quickly into a nightmare-that-won't-end.
#6. Does the screenplay create questions: will he find out the truth? Did she do it? Will they fall in love? Has a strong 'need to know' hook been built into the story?
#7. Is the concept original?
#8. Is there a goal? Is there pacing? Does it build?
#9. Begin with a punch, end with a flurry.
#10. It is funny, scary, or thrilling? All three?
#11. What does the story have that the audience can't get from real life?
#12. What's at stake? Life and death situations are the most dramatic. Does the concept create the potential for the characters lives to be changed?
#13. What are the obstacles? Is there a sufficient challenge for our heroes?
#14. What is the screenplay trying to say, and is it worth trying to say it?
#15. Does the story transport the audience?
#16. Is the screenplay predictable? There should be surprises and reversals within the major plot, and also within individual scenes.
#17. Once the parameters of the film's reality are established, they must not be violated. Limitations call for interesting solutions.
#18. Is there a decisive, inevitable, set-up ending that is nonetheless unexpected? (This is not easy to do!)
#19. Is it believable? Realistic?
#20. Is there a strong emotion -- heart -- at the center of the story? Avoid mean-spirited storylines.
#1. Imagine the trailer. Is the concept marketable?
#2. Is the premise naturally intriguing -- or just average, demanding perfect execution?
#3. Who is the target audience? Would your parents go see it?
#4. Does your story deal with the most important events in the lives of your characters?
#5. If you're writing about a fantasy-come-true, turn it quickly into a nightmare-that-won't-end.
#6. Does the screenplay create questions: will he find out the truth? Did she do it? Will they fall in love? Has a strong 'need to know' hook been built into the story?
#7. Is the concept original?
#8. Is there a goal? Is there pacing? Does it build?
#9. Begin with a punch, end with a flurry.
#10. It is funny, scary, or thrilling? All three?
#11. What does the story have that the audience can't get from real life?
#12. What's at stake? Life and death situations are the most dramatic. Does the concept create the potential for the characters lives to be changed?
#13. What are the obstacles? Is there a sufficient challenge for our heroes?
#14. What is the screenplay trying to say, and is it worth trying to say it?
#15. Does the story transport the audience?
#16. Is the screenplay predictable? There should be surprises and reversals within the major plot, and also within individual scenes.
#17. Once the parameters of the film's reality are established, they must not be violated. Limitations call for interesting solutions.
#18. Is there a decisive, inevitable, set-up ending that is nonetheless unexpected? (This is not easy to do!)
#19. Is it believable? Realistic?
#20. Is there a strong emotion -- heart -- at the center of the story? Avoid mean-spirited storylines.
Saturday, July 09, 2005
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
Introverted Sensing Feeling Perceiving
by Joe Butt
Strength of the preferences % 78 1 38 11
ISFPs are the first to hear the different drummer. Many eagerly plunge into new fashions, avant garde experiences, 'hip' trends--some even setting the trends.
More in touch with the reality of their senses than their INFP counterparts, ISFPs live in the here and now. Their impulses yearn to be free, and are often loosed when others least expect it. The ISFP who continually represses these impulses feels 'dead inside' and may eventually cut and run. (One ISFP friend has become nonambulatory within the past few years. He will still, on impulse, leave home in the middle of the night and go to Las Vegas or wherever, regardless of the difficulties of his physical condition.)
ISFPs may be quite charming and ingratiating on first acquaintance, flowing with compliments which may (or may not) be deserved. On other occasions, the same individual may be aloof and detached. Some ISFP males are fiercely competitive, especially in sport or table games, and may have great difficulty losing. This competitive nature, also seen in other SP types, sometimes fosters 'lucky,' 'gut' feelings and a willingness to take risks.
Organized education is difficult for the majority of ISFPs, and many drop out before finishing secondary education. Their interest can be held better through experiential learning, at which many excel. ISFPs will practice playing an instrument or honing a favored skill for hours on end, not so much as practice as for the joy of the experience.
Differential diagnosis:
ISFPs are less fantasy-oriented than INFPs. These types are often confused, however, INFPs lean strongly to daydreams, poetry, prose and more philosophical pursuits; ISFPs often live out 'id' experiences rather than writing or even talking about them.
ISFJs are driven by the conventional, by 'should's and 'ought's; ISFPs internalize their Feeling (by nature a judging function) which bursts out spontaneously and leaves as quickly and mysteriously as it came.
Because of these variant expressions of Feeling judgement, ISFPs are sometimes confused with ESFJs, but keep themselves more aloof, more often concealing the feelings that ESFJs are so apt to expose.
ESFPs express thoughts more readily (and, in the main, skillfully). ISFPs can and do perform admirably in the spotlight, but generally have little to say about the performance. For example, few ISFPs would be disc-jockeys, a field strongly represented by ES_Ps.
Functional Analysis:
Introverted Feeling
Feeling, unbridled by the external forces of society and substance, is the dominant function. ISFPs spontaneously develop their own codes and credos, about which they are quite sober and intense. ISFPs are questors, driven to find the pure and ideal, as personally and individually defined. Feeling may temporarily turn outward, but cannot be long sustained beyond its cloistered home.
If the individual has values greater than herself, feeling may express itself in valiant acts of selflessness. Turned in upon self, however, it becomes an unscrupulous, capricious enigma, capable even of heinous acts of deception and treachery.
Extraverted Sensing
ISFPs keep a finger on the pulse of here and now. They are more adept at doing than considering, at acting than reflecting, at tasting than wondering. As do most SPs, ISFPs keenly sense color, sound, texture, and movement. It is not unusual for ISFPs to excel in sensory, motor, or kinesthetic abilities.
ISFPs cherish their impulses. Some of the most beautiful, graceful, and artistic performances are the result of this drive for physical, sensate expression.
Introverted intuition
Tertiary intuition works best in the background of the ISFP's inner world. Perhaps this is the source of the "gut feeling" SPs consult in matters of chance. However "lucky" the ISFP may be, intuition as a means of communication is a poor servant, evidenced in spoonerisms, and non sequiturs and mixed metaphors.
Extraverted Thinking
The ISFP may employ Extraverted Thinking in external situations requiring closure. As is the case with inferior functions, such Thinking behaves in an all or nothing manner. Thus, as with other FP types, the ISFP's Extraverted Thinking is at risk for a lack of context and proportion. In most cases, persons of this type enjoy greater facility operating in the open-ended style of sensing, implying the opinions of feeling values in the indirect fashion characteristic of introverted functions.
Famous ISFPs:
Marie Antoinette
Auguste Rodin
Ulysses S. Grant
Warren G. Harding
Fred Astaire
Marilyn Monroe
Liberace
Elizabeth Taylor
Yogi Berra
Dan Rather
Orrin Hatch
Ervin "Magic" Johnson
Patrick Duffey
Dan Quayle
Paul McCartney
Christopher Reeve
Michael Jackson
Kevin Costner
Greg Louganis
Brooke Shields
Britney Spears
John Travolta
Ashton Kutcher
Donald Trump
Strength of the preferences % 78 1 38 11
ISFPs are the first to hear the different drummer. Many eagerly plunge into new fashions, avant garde experiences, 'hip' trends--some even setting the trends.
More in touch with the reality of their senses than their INFP counterparts, ISFPs live in the here and now. Their impulses yearn to be free, and are often loosed when others least expect it. The ISFP who continually represses these impulses feels 'dead inside' and may eventually cut and run. (One ISFP friend has become nonambulatory within the past few years. He will still, on impulse, leave home in the middle of the night and go to Las Vegas or wherever, regardless of the difficulties of his physical condition.)
ISFPs may be quite charming and ingratiating on first acquaintance, flowing with compliments which may (or may not) be deserved. On other occasions, the same individual may be aloof and detached. Some ISFP males are fiercely competitive, especially in sport or table games, and may have great difficulty losing. This competitive nature, also seen in other SP types, sometimes fosters 'lucky,' 'gut' feelings and a willingness to take risks.
Organized education is difficult for the majority of ISFPs, and many drop out before finishing secondary education. Their interest can be held better through experiential learning, at which many excel. ISFPs will practice playing an instrument or honing a favored skill for hours on end, not so much as practice as for the joy of the experience.
Differential diagnosis:
ISFPs are less fantasy-oriented than INFPs. These types are often confused, however, INFPs lean strongly to daydreams, poetry, prose and more philosophical pursuits; ISFPs often live out 'id' experiences rather than writing or even talking about them.
ISFJs are driven by the conventional, by 'should's and 'ought's; ISFPs internalize their Feeling (by nature a judging function) which bursts out spontaneously and leaves as quickly and mysteriously as it came.
Because of these variant expressions of Feeling judgement, ISFPs are sometimes confused with ESFJs, but keep themselves more aloof, more often concealing the feelings that ESFJs are so apt to expose.
ESFPs express thoughts more readily (and, in the main, skillfully). ISFPs can and do perform admirably in the spotlight, but generally have little to say about the performance. For example, few ISFPs would be disc-jockeys, a field strongly represented by ES_Ps.
Functional Analysis:
Introverted Feeling
Feeling, unbridled by the external forces of society and substance, is the dominant function. ISFPs spontaneously develop their own codes and credos, about which they are quite sober and intense. ISFPs are questors, driven to find the pure and ideal, as personally and individually defined. Feeling may temporarily turn outward, but cannot be long sustained beyond its cloistered home.
If the individual has values greater than herself, feeling may express itself in valiant acts of selflessness. Turned in upon self, however, it becomes an unscrupulous, capricious enigma, capable even of heinous acts of deception and treachery.
Extraverted Sensing
ISFPs keep a finger on the pulse of here and now. They are more adept at doing than considering, at acting than reflecting, at tasting than wondering. As do most SPs, ISFPs keenly sense color, sound, texture, and movement. It is not unusual for ISFPs to excel in sensory, motor, or kinesthetic abilities.
ISFPs cherish their impulses. Some of the most beautiful, graceful, and artistic performances are the result of this drive for physical, sensate expression.
Introverted intuition
Tertiary intuition works best in the background of the ISFP's inner world. Perhaps this is the source of the "gut feeling" SPs consult in matters of chance. However "lucky" the ISFP may be, intuition as a means of communication is a poor servant, evidenced in spoonerisms, and non sequiturs and mixed metaphors.
Extraverted Thinking
The ISFP may employ Extraverted Thinking in external situations requiring closure. As is the case with inferior functions, such Thinking behaves in an all or nothing manner. Thus, as with other FP types, the ISFP's Extraverted Thinking is at risk for a lack of context and proportion. In most cases, persons of this type enjoy greater facility operating in the open-ended style of sensing, implying the opinions of feeling values in the indirect fashion characteristic of introverted functions.
Famous ISFPs:
Marie Antoinette
Auguste Rodin
Ulysses S. Grant
Warren G. Harding
Fred Astaire
Marilyn Monroe
Liberace
Elizabeth Taylor
Yogi Berra
Dan Rather
Orrin Hatch
Ervin "Magic" Johnson
Patrick Duffey
Dan Quayle
Paul McCartney
Christopher Reeve
Michael Jackson
Kevin Costner
Greg Louganis
Brooke Shields
Britney Spears
John Travolta
Ashton Kutcher
Donald Trump
Saturday, June 11, 2005
Politics as Unusual
President Bush's "clout appears to be ebbing," said Ron Hutcheson in The Philadelphia Inquirer. Pundits are still debating whether Republicans or Democrats got the best of the bipartisan compromise last week that averted a "showdown" over seven of President Bush's judicial nominees. But with the compromise guaranteeing that just three of the seven judges will be approved, it's clear who lost: The president himself. In his first term, Bush's popularity ratings reached a historic 90 percent, and there was virtually no program or policy he couldn't ram through a compliant Republican Congress. But just months into his second term, Bush's approval ratings have sunk into the 40s, with the public dismayed by his Social Security reform plans, his opposition to stem-cell research, and the Iraq war. With moderate Republicans defecting, the president may lack the power to reshape the U.S. Supreme Court or push through other critical elements of his agenda. Bush's second term, said presidential scholar Stephen Hess of the Brookings Institution, is "looking like an hourglass with the sand running out."
But don't be so sure, said Carl Cannon in The Washington Post. In temporarily staving off all- out war over judicial nominees, seven Republican senators may have made a truce with seven Democrats, but Bush didn't. "He does not like the way Democrats talk about some of his nominees," most of whom are personal friends. Sooner or later, a fuming Bush will wreck the fragile, centrist compromise on judges by sending the Senate a new group of "ultraconservative" nominees. And when a Supreme Court vacancy or two opens, you can be sure that his picks will drive liberals up the wall.
Let's hope so, said The Wall Street Journal in an editorial. In 2004, Americans elected a Republican Congress and a Republican president. But, thus far, Democratic obstructionists have tied up Social Security reform and John Bolton's nomination as U.N. ambassador, blocked several of Bush's appeals court nominees, and preserved their ability to filibuster his Supreme Court nominations. "For this we elected Republicans?"
It was almost inevitable, said Howard Fineman in Newsweek. Politics "moves in cycles," and Republicans have been ascendant for 25 years. Under George W. Bush, conservatism "reached its zenith," as he and 9/11 managed to forge the GOP’s libertarians, corporate interests, and evangelical Christians into a dominant coalition. But gaping holes have appeared in Bush's "Big Tent." Libertarians and corporate chieftains are dismayed by Bush's profligate budget deficits and his evangelism on abortion and other social issues. Evangelicals feel "betrayed" by the Republican party's unwillingness to wage political war against gay marriage and abortion. Moderates such as Sen. John McCain have seized the momentum. When we look back at this moment years hence, "will we see it as the moment when the tide of conservative Republicanism crested?"
Nothing wrong with a little political moderation, said John Avlon in The New York Sun. The "ideological elites" of the extreme right and extreme left prefer war to an uneasy peace. But most Americans are pragmatic centrists, and they're thoroughly sick of partisan bickering, especially when it nearly brings the government to a grinding halt. A new Harris poll says that 79 percent of Americans now favor moderate politicians, and more than 80 percent say we need more "who are willing to vote independently rather than strictly along party lines." That's why the 14 Senate moderates have emerged as a new force in Washington. But can the moderates prevail on a playing field titled toward the extremists? Only if the American public makes it clear that it, too, stands in the center.
But don't be so sure, said Carl Cannon in The Washington Post. In temporarily staving off all- out war over judicial nominees, seven Republican senators may have made a truce with seven Democrats, but Bush didn't. "He does not like the way Democrats talk about some of his nominees," most of whom are personal friends. Sooner or later, a fuming Bush will wreck the fragile, centrist compromise on judges by sending the Senate a new group of "ultraconservative" nominees. And when a Supreme Court vacancy or two opens, you can be sure that his picks will drive liberals up the wall.
Let's hope so, said The Wall Street Journal in an editorial. In 2004, Americans elected a Republican Congress and a Republican president. But, thus far, Democratic obstructionists have tied up Social Security reform and John Bolton's nomination as U.N. ambassador, blocked several of Bush's appeals court nominees, and preserved their ability to filibuster his Supreme Court nominations. "For this we elected Republicans?"
It was almost inevitable, said Howard Fineman in Newsweek. Politics "moves in cycles," and Republicans have been ascendant for 25 years. Under George W. Bush, conservatism "reached its zenith," as he and 9/11 managed to forge the GOP’s libertarians, corporate interests, and evangelical Christians into a dominant coalition. But gaping holes have appeared in Bush's "Big Tent." Libertarians and corporate chieftains are dismayed by Bush's profligate budget deficits and his evangelism on abortion and other social issues. Evangelicals feel "betrayed" by the Republican party's unwillingness to wage political war against gay marriage and abortion. Moderates such as Sen. John McCain have seized the momentum. When we look back at this moment years hence, "will we see it as the moment when the tide of conservative Republicanism crested?"
Nothing wrong with a little political moderation, said John Avlon in The New York Sun. The "ideological elites" of the extreme right and extreme left prefer war to an uneasy peace. But most Americans are pragmatic centrists, and they're thoroughly sick of partisan bickering, especially when it nearly brings the government to a grinding halt. A new Harris poll says that 79 percent of Americans now favor moderate politicians, and more than 80 percent say we need more "who are willing to vote independently rather than strictly along party lines." That's why the 14 Senate moderates have emerged as a new force in Washington. But can the moderates prevail on a playing field titled toward the extremists? Only if the American public makes it clear that it, too, stands in the center.
Friday, June 10, 2005
Stem cells:
The future of medicine or Frankenscience?
This will be one of the most emotionally fraught battles of George Bush's presidency, said Ron Hutcheson in The Philadelphia Inquire. The House of Representatives this week passed a bipartisan bill that would vastly expand federally funded research on embryonic stem cells. Extracted from newly fertilized human eggs, these undifferentiated cells can be coaxed to grow into almost any kind of tissue. Scientists hope to turn stem cells into healthy brain, nerve, pancreas, and other kinds of cells, providing treatments or even cures for such afflictions as Alzheimer's disease, Parkinson's, diabetes, and spinal cord injuries.
Almost four years ago, President Bush restricted government-supported research on stem-cell lines to the 20 that already existed. The House bill would allow money for research on new lines, harvested from the 400,000 embryos left over from artificial-fertilization procedures. But the president has vowed to veto the new bill, arguing that any relaxation of his stem-cell rules would "promote science which destroys life in order to save life."
Bush is making a tragic mistake, said The New York Times in an editorial. British and Asian scientists have embraced stem-cell research, and are leaving the U.S. "pathetically behind the times." Last week, scientists in South Korea announced that they had extracted stem cells from human embryos they had successfully cloned, using skin cells from test subjects. The stem cells that were created are exact genetic matches to the subjects--a breakthrough that could lead to the growing of fresh, healthy tissues or organs that the body will not reject. How can Bush turn his back on such promising science, based solely on his personal religious views?
It's called conscience, said Eric Cohen in The Weekly Standard. You don't have to be a pro-lifer to be worried about the path this Frankenstein research is taking. "Everyone wants to cure diseases," but there's something deeply disturbing about fertilizing eggs and creating human embryos, so they can be killed, ripped apart, and used "as tools to help others." With "no real ethical limits" on this research, we're headed to a chilling "brave new world." It's not as if there aren't alternatives, said Cardinal William Keeler in USA Today. One is for researchers to use stem cells taken from umbilical-cord blood. These cells offer promising benefits without the "moral problems" associated with those taken from embryos.
That's a very cynical argument, said Harvard University endocrinologist David Shaywitz in The Wall Street Journal. All the evidence indicates that umbilical-cord blood cells are nowhere near as promising; they show no signs of being able to "turn into other types of cells, such as pancreas and brain." Right-to-lifers don't really care, though; their objection to stem-cell research is based on the religious belief that "the human embryo should be held as sacrosanct," even when it consists of a primitive clump of four to eight cells. Since most Americans don't share that belief, religious conservatives are using "junk science" as a smoke screen.
As someone whose health is declining rapidly because of Parkinson's disease, said Michael Kinsley in the Los Angeles Times, I find this debate deeply "disheartening." President Bush's bioethical advisor, Leon Kass, now is calling for a "moratorium" on stem-cell research until the ethical issues are resolved. Please. Eggheads like him will noodle their way "through arcane ethical mazes" for years or decades, while life-saving research is stalled. But science cannot be stopped; stem cells eventually will be developed into treatments or cures. The only question is whether I and a few million other people will still be alive to benefit from them.
This will be one of the most emotionally fraught battles of George Bush's presidency, said Ron Hutcheson in The Philadelphia Inquire. The House of Representatives this week passed a bipartisan bill that would vastly expand federally funded research on embryonic stem cells. Extracted from newly fertilized human eggs, these undifferentiated cells can be coaxed to grow into almost any kind of tissue. Scientists hope to turn stem cells into healthy brain, nerve, pancreas, and other kinds of cells, providing treatments or even cures for such afflictions as Alzheimer's disease, Parkinson's, diabetes, and spinal cord injuries.
Almost four years ago, President Bush restricted government-supported research on stem-cell lines to the 20 that already existed. The House bill would allow money for research on new lines, harvested from the 400,000 embryos left over from artificial-fertilization procedures. But the president has vowed to veto the new bill, arguing that any relaxation of his stem-cell rules would "promote science which destroys life in order to save life."
Bush is making a tragic mistake, said The New York Times in an editorial. British and Asian scientists have embraced stem-cell research, and are leaving the U.S. "pathetically behind the times." Last week, scientists in South Korea announced that they had extracted stem cells from human embryos they had successfully cloned, using skin cells from test subjects. The stem cells that were created are exact genetic matches to the subjects--a breakthrough that could lead to the growing of fresh, healthy tissues or organs that the body will not reject. How can Bush turn his back on such promising science, based solely on his personal religious views?
It's called conscience, said Eric Cohen in The Weekly Standard. You don't have to be a pro-lifer to be worried about the path this Frankenstein research is taking. "Everyone wants to cure diseases," but there's something deeply disturbing about fertilizing eggs and creating human embryos, so they can be killed, ripped apart, and used "as tools to help others." With "no real ethical limits" on this research, we're headed to a chilling "brave new world." It's not as if there aren't alternatives, said Cardinal William Keeler in USA Today. One is for researchers to use stem cells taken from umbilical-cord blood. These cells offer promising benefits without the "moral problems" associated with those taken from embryos.
That's a very cynical argument, said Harvard University endocrinologist David Shaywitz in The Wall Street Journal. All the evidence indicates that umbilical-cord blood cells are nowhere near as promising; they show no signs of being able to "turn into other types of cells, such as pancreas and brain." Right-to-lifers don't really care, though; their objection to stem-cell research is based on the religious belief that "the human embryo should be held as sacrosanct," even when it consists of a primitive clump of four to eight cells. Since most Americans don't share that belief, religious conservatives are using "junk science" as a smoke screen.
As someone whose health is declining rapidly because of Parkinson's disease, said Michael Kinsley in the Los Angeles Times, I find this debate deeply "disheartening." President Bush's bioethical advisor, Leon Kass, now is calling for a "moratorium" on stem-cell research until the ethical issues are resolved. Please. Eggheads like him will noodle their way "through arcane ethical mazes" for years or decades, while life-saving research is stalled. But science cannot be stopped; stem cells eventually will be developed into treatments or cures. The only question is whether I and a few million other people will still be alive to benefit from them.
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Rumors of Another Life
At about five minutes past six I wake up (for the most part). I have no idea what’s going on. My body is still sleeping, but my mind is giving it signals to keep moving. I’m doing everything on autopilot. I head to the kitchen to turn on the coffee maker. I hear a cry outside my backdoor. I vaguely remember that I have a cat waiting outside for her first meal of the day. I open the door and feed her. Next I warm the shower to temperature that I use each morning robotically testing the water until it meets my requirements. Once out, I look at myself in the mirror for the first time out of curiosity mostly because I know what I look like. Shit mostly, and I feel the same the same way.
Back in the kitchen I pour a cup of hot coffee and drink from it as I toast some resin bread. After taking a few bites I’m back into my bedroom making sure that I have all of my clothes in order. Does anything need ironing? My job requires that I look professional, wrinkles won’t do. Once that’s in order I go about the business of shaving. Never an easy task for a man who can’t see, but one required of man whose facial hair grows at a fast rate. I brush, floss, and rinse. Soon after I’m getting into my clothes in front of a floor to ceiling mirror.
By this time I’m halfway awake and can enjoy the rest of my coffee and toast. I get my briefcase together and take one last look at myself in the mirror. Looking back at me now is a different man. One much more confident than the one earlier in the bathroom. Now looking back at me is men I know only exist in people’s minds, other people’s minds.
What do I think about this life that I’ve now constructed in my head? I’m sure that it’s something I wish I were. I’m t-shirt and jeans kind of guy, but I wear a suit. I normally wouldn’t be up until 10 or 11, but I’m out the door at 7. What does this say about me? And why isn’t there anyone else going though this with me?
I can imagine all the things that I go through to make it to my job on time. To make the money for a comfortable life, but what am I ultimately looking for? Someone to share it with. And I see no one in the other room. My bed is empty. When I step out the door I’m a different man then when I stepped out of my bed, but I want someone in the bed with me to share my inner life. The life I don’t show to the outside world is a lonely life. I want someone who can help me get up, not helping me go through the motions, but giving me the motivation to do it on my own.
Who is this man? What does he look like? What does feel like? That’s the spot that’s missing in this dream. I look forward to when it will be filled.
Back in the kitchen I pour a cup of hot coffee and drink from it as I toast some resin bread. After taking a few bites I’m back into my bedroom making sure that I have all of my clothes in order. Does anything need ironing? My job requires that I look professional, wrinkles won’t do. Once that’s in order I go about the business of shaving. Never an easy task for a man who can’t see, but one required of man whose facial hair grows at a fast rate. I brush, floss, and rinse. Soon after I’m getting into my clothes in front of a floor to ceiling mirror.
By this time I’m halfway awake and can enjoy the rest of my coffee and toast. I get my briefcase together and take one last look at myself in the mirror. Looking back at me now is a different man. One much more confident than the one earlier in the bathroom. Now looking back at me is men I know only exist in people’s minds, other people’s minds.
What do I think about this life that I’ve now constructed in my head? I’m sure that it’s something I wish I were. I’m t-shirt and jeans kind of guy, but I wear a suit. I normally wouldn’t be up until 10 or 11, but I’m out the door at 7. What does this say about me? And why isn’t there anyone else going though this with me?
I can imagine all the things that I go through to make it to my job on time. To make the money for a comfortable life, but what am I ultimately looking for? Someone to share it with. And I see no one in the other room. My bed is empty. When I step out the door I’m a different man then when I stepped out of my bed, but I want someone in the bed with me to share my inner life. The life I don’t show to the outside world is a lonely life. I want someone who can help me get up, not helping me go through the motions, but giving me the motivation to do it on my own.
Who is this man? What does he look like? What does feel like? That’s the spot that’s missing in this dream. I look forward to when it will be filled.
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