Dr. Horrible Rules the World

Teaser from Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog on Vimeo.

I saw Joss Whedon's scripted musical internet series Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog last night, and it's a must see for anyone who enjoys laughter, music, or frozen yogurt.

Joss has outdone himself on a low budget with this hilarious series starring Neil Patrick Harris as the eponymous (always wanted to use that word in a blog posting) Dr. Horrible, a villain struggling to qualify for entry into the Evil League of Evil. We can't help but root for Harris's feeble attempts at villainy even as he weakly flirts (and wonderfully sings!) with his cute crush Penny at the Laudromat, played with girl-geek awesomeness by Buffy alum Felicia Day. His arch-nemesis, the narcissistic superhero Captain Hammer (toothesome and shameless Nathan Fillion of fabulous Firefly and Serenity fame) clashes with him mortally (and with music!) when Captain Hammer wins Penny's heart.

Joss wrote the series during the writer's strike, since it was forbidden at that time for WGA types like him to write film or television scripts. You can see his letter explaining all here.

The first of three episodes will start airing at the Dr. Horrible website July 15, with the other two airing in subsequent weeks. After a brief stint airing thus for free, they will vanish and eventually be available for download somewhere at some kind of fee.

How did I get to see all three eps a few days before they officially air? My feeble Hollywood contacts got me into what constituted a cast and crew screening last night at the marble edifice where CAA now lurks. Joss himself was there. He's my writer-hero, and I was too frozen with shyness and admiration to approach him.

I sat way up high in the spiffy Ray Kurtzman screening room as everyone else circulated and smooched and reminisced about shooting the series. Joss and Nathan Fillion hugged, and kept hugging, and then started grabbing each other's asses as the room got quiet, then broke into laughter.

Joss spoke briefly beforehand, thanking everyone, and confessed he'd been nurturing this story for years because he saw himself as ineffectual and geeky (Geeky in the best way, yes. Ineffectual? Anything but, oh storytelling man!) and invited us all afterwards to join him at X-bar across the street.

Now of course, I wish I'd gone and introduced myself and told him how much his work has meant to me. But I was too shy and alone and felt all geeky and ineffectual. See why I love Joss? Did you know Joss did an uncredited rewrite on Iron Man? The dude is brilliant, but all his work has heart. And for all its laughs and clever lyrics, Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog has a heart as well, albeit a broken one. Watch it and you'll see.

Why Desks Are Important

Have you ever tried writing for hours using your laptop while holding it on your lap in 90 degree weather?

Today's tip for writers is for laptop users: on hot days, write at your desk and point a fan at your laptop's undercarriage. And at your own undercarriage while you're at it.

While writing this weekend with my MacBook on my lap, I got a condition known as "hot lap" where the heat of the laptop transfers itself to your thighs. But you get so involved in your writing, you don't really notice it until suddenly it feels as if your legs are being barbecued. The removal of the laptop at this point doesn't really help. Cold compresses and colder drinks become necessary.

So on hot days, use that desk you spent money on and write there. Or stock up on ice. Or both!

On the plus side, the first draft of my novel is almost done. Ack! Then, the rewriting will begin with a vengeance.

Nina's Wild Kingdom

As you can see, the raccoons are back. With a vengeance. I thought Rocky and Raquel, a handsome, infrequently glimpsed couple had found greener pastures. But no. Apparently Raquel's had five (count 'em!) babies and Rocky's run off, leaving me as provider.



Yes, that's the area outside my back kitchen door. And that's Momma Raquel with Groucho, Harpo, Chico, Zeppo, and Gummo eating the cat food I leave out for the feral cat, Miss Kitty, who is the mother of one of my cats. (No, I didn't name her Miss Kitty, my former neighbor did. He was and probably still is a very nice man who helped me trap and spay her so she won't have any more kittens.)

I glanced out my back door and saw Raquel. She saw me, and instead of running, she picked up the blue plastic bowl I use for Miss Kitty's food in her pointy little teeth and stood up on her hind legs as if to say, "Where's the food, Lady?"

I know I shouldn't have fetched it. But the babies are so cute! So I scooped up some cat food and put it in the bowl as she backed up. I went back inside, and she picked up the bowl, running off with it, but scattering the food everywhere. So she and the babies (kits, cubs, bandits?) scuttled over and began crunching all very noisily in concert.


My elderly cat, Max, went to the screen door to observe. Raquel lunged for him, whapping the screen and hissing. Max did not flinch. Insiders refer to Max as "The Cat of Peace." And sure enough, after a few moments Raquel calmed down and resumed crunching as Max gazed over them.

Don't worry, I won't get near them or try to tame them. I'm not a complete idiot. But I do have a fondness for fuzzy animals. I like seeing nature rearing her gorgeous head in the middle of the city. We think we have this world under our thumb, but it keeps slipping away and stealing our cat food when we're not looking.

Paradise Indeed

I just got back from my first trip of the year to Hawaii, where I saw my family and a whole slew of friends. How lucky am I?

My last full day there I spent sipping fruity rum drinks and playing volleyball in the pool with about ten of my oldest and dearest friends under an achingly blue sky dotted with puffy cotton clouds, across the street from a white-sand beach. Every now and then I thought, "Wow, this is really my life right here, right now. Woo hoo!"

My Photo - Published

Well, it's official. Schmap.com has selected my photo of the Micklegate in York, England to use on its website. You can see my photo (right side of the screen) here. Hee hee! I'm foolishly very tickled.

If you click on the actual photo on this page, you'll be directed to my photostream at Flickr, which is kind of weird, but what the hell. It's just photos of York and Hawaii and my friends singing terrible karaoke, after all.

Musical Inspiration

I finally made a playlist of songs to get in the writing mood for my current project. I've been hearing about this technique from other writers for awhile now. Find music that puts you in mind of your project and play, rinse, repeat until the project is done.

So far it sort of works. I used songs I already own, downloaded them onto my laptop, then onto a cd for my car and my Ipod for when I got out running. My protagonist is female, so there are a lot of songs by and about women that are vaguely linked to her in my mind. I also keep in mind the setting, the vibe, the overall theme and plot, and any song that lends itself to them in my mind gets thrown on there.

Here are a few of the songs:

Hollywood Bitch by Stone Temple Pilots
I Fought the Law as performed by The Clash
Can't Change Me by Chris Cornell
Don't Wanna Know by The Donnas
The Long Way Round by The Dixie Chicks
Bad Reputation by Joan Jett

I recommend making your own playlist if you've got access to ITunes and a need for inspiration.

Random Cool Thing This Week

I got an email today asking permission to maybe use one of my photos in a free guide to the city of York. How cool is that? The guides are from Schmap. I've already bookmarked them to use for my own travel reference in the future.

The photo is below. I'll find out soon if it actually gets picked to be in the guide. It's of the Mickelgate in York, England, one of the medieval entrances to the city. They used to put heads on the spikes of this gate to warn all who entered to behave themselves. That's my travel pal, Wendy, grinning under the streetlight. We had a great time!

(Singing) Rewriiiiiiiite!

So I'm taking this fabulous online course to help me with my novel writing. It provides incentive with deadlines, a supportive chat weekly, and feedback from a published author and your fellow students. It's one of the courses from MediaBistro, and I recommend them highly.

But it's work, man. My teacher gave me feedback that made complete sense and will make my book a lot better. BUT - it involved a lot of rewriting. It STILL involves a lot of rewriting. I feel like I'm going to be rewriting and then writing and rewriting some more until osteoporosis overtakes me, and I can't type from the arthritis.

The good news is that the course is aimed at helping you to actually finish your book. And the rewrite I'm doing is streamlining my novel, making it shorter, sleeker, and (hopefully) better. So that should mean less overall writing to do, right?

Most of my energy is focused on churning out the pages right now, so I won't be posting quite as often. But I'll check back in soon!

Grocery List

I found an old hand-written grocery list on a post-it in my purse the other day. A quick glance at my terrible hand writing made it look like this:

Blue sky homes
lemur
2 purr to mates
Pansy
Mint
grim pippin
cayrrrr
humms
piles
Nuts

I actually had a recipe in mind when I wrote all these things down. If you're really intrepid and have nothing else to do in your busy life, maybe you can figure out what it was.

Personally, I'd really like a blue sky home. And possibly a lemur. If you find one at the store, let me know.

Photos by Tanja

This has nothing to do with writing, but I love these photos! Maybe I'll write a story about a photographer who works at a wolf sanctuary. Oh wait! That'd be Tanja Askani's life!

I wish I could read German. If you can, take a look at her site.

And she's got a book out called Kinship with the Wolf I may have to buy.

Blazy

So I've been lazy about my blog this week. Blog+lazy = Blazy.

That new word actually sounds much cooler than the definition I've given it. BLAZY! Like you're on fire, either metaphorically, literally - or both, gosh darn it!

Instead of writing poetry I've been reading the writing of folks in my new critique group (great stuff, guys!) and in this online class I'm taking while working on my own novel. Oh, and working at my day job too. Oh yeah, that!

It takes a lot of energy to beat back the demons of self doubt. The teacher in my online class assessed my idea as fun, and said it should be campy.

Hmm. That's not what I had in mind. I want humor, sure. And it's heightened. But campy? No. Tonally I'm going more for Buffy the Vampire Slayer. No, not fantasy and horror, but that tough mix of real life difficulties (yeah, people die!), having special power/knowledge, and adolescent angst. A mix of humor, adventure, blah blah blah.

So now what? Have I been utterly deluded all this time, after all the work I've done? Do I take this one statement by someone who hasn't read my stuff yet and run off and hide?

Well, I was tempted. It's amazing how fragile this whole conception I have of being a writer is. Especially when I haven't been published yet. But today I'll online chat with my teacher and probably get more constructive thoughts and all that will go away, and I'll feel invigorated again.

Must. Keep. Moving. Forward. Despite the quicksand and crocodiles in my brain swamp trying to drag me under.

If you want to kill time when you should be writing, check out your very silly horoscope at The Onion.

Mine today is:

Cancer June 22 - July 22
Balancing work and family is never easy, but with looming deadlines and daily staff meetings—well, it's just—what the hell do you expect from us, Margaret?

Language and Poetry

After reading this very interesting article in the NY Times today about language (did you know most languages do not have different terms for the colors blue and green? Yet another reason to fall in love with English.) I then found out that in Hungarian word endings need to "rhyme" with vowels in the word they are attached to.

I love this idea! I love playing with language, learning where words come from and how they secretly relate to other words and ideas. What a marvelous idea, to make it a priority to harmonize the sounds in words as you speak them.

Apparently, the Hungarian rules of "vowel harmony" are quite complex. Hungary has a rich tradition of poetry and literature, and some argue that the language's flexibility (you can put words in just about any order) leads to creative and experimental thinking. This may also account for the extraordinary number of prominent Hungarian scientists - the language they work in allows for a huge range of options. Could this lead to a more open mind?

But the language is also completely different from nearly every other Western tongue; it's vaguely related only to Finnish. Russian and Sinhala (spoken in Sri Lanka) have more in common with English than Hungarian. The complexity and flexibility of the language make it resistent to translation, which keeps its literary heritage a secret from the rest of the world.

They also have two words for the number 2. Which is rather poetic in an of itself.

Wanna be a Movie or TV Writer?

Read this.

It's Chad Gervich's latest post on his Writers Digest blog Script Notes. In it, Chad answers some basic questions sent in by a ninth grade aspiring screenwriter. He goes into great detail about pay scale, where writers write, how to break in, what sort of experience you need and don't need. For anyone who knows very little about the business and is interested in breaking in, it's chock a block with valuable info.

Insult Poem

Snip!
There goes a piece of history
Clip!
Another bit of truth

Whack!
You've pruned away what happened
Smack!
While I wasted all my youth

Delete!
We never were in love
Erase!
You never held me close

Cut!
I just misunderstood you
Bleed!
Sorry to impose

****

I wrote this prompted by Robert Lee Brewer's blog from yesterday. In case you haven't been paying attention, this is Poetry Month, and I'm doggedly spewing out evil bits of poetry in honor of that. The idea is to write an insult poem. I'm not sure mine qualifies. It's more angry than insulting. I started off just accusing the unnamed object of the poem of being a liar, of altering history. But I found that dull and pedantic. So I tried to insult without outright accusation. Not that I'm claiming this poem is at all subtle, mind you.

It's interesting to try and be angry. I'm always trying to forgive and be nice. It's rather fun to have an excuse to wallow in ugly emotions for a little while. All in the interests of "art." *cough*

Always a Sky

a hot diamond sky
ironed down the palm leaves
fired up the roof

stood like a lion on my limbs
breath scalding my face
Fur smeared with sun

I lay as if forever
would always be this blue

*****

It's Poetry Month! I didn't follow a prompt today. Just wrote how this hot weekend in Los Angeles made me feel.

Heat = no poetry

It was over 90 degrees in Los Angeles this weeked. Temperature records wilted.

So I used that as an excuse to be lazy and not write any poetry over the weekend, in spite of this being Poetry Month.

Oy. Work is nutty, but I still hope to churn something dreadful out today and keep some sort of momentum coming. Don't say I didn't warn you!

Poem - Object

Today's poetry prompt from Robert Lee Brewer's blog is to write a poem about an object you find fascinating or you think is overlooked.

The Egyptian Ring

I kept passing
the ring
on the way to my cabin.

On the top deck
I sat
and watched Nile birds swoop

Below, I passed the shop
the ring
had a Nile blue sapphire

The river banks passed
Blue sky
Fishermen cast their nets

It didn't sparkle much
square cut
bound in two golden bands

Tut's funeral mask embedded
lapis lazuli
no sapphires, but carnelian and gold

Frivolous jewelry,
unecessary ornamentation
Too expensive anyway.

A call home to a friend
broken hearted
while I lounged on the Nile

I bought the ring
it fit.

My poem picked

So I've been terribly lax the last couple of days about this Poem-a-day thing I promised to do for Poetry Month. Work has been crazy busy, and then my brain shuts down. And I think some of my poetry reflects that!

However, my chocolate chip poem was selected as one that stood out by Robert Lee Brewer, who blogs about poetry at the Writers Digets site. Click here and scroll down to see my poem "published" online.

Okay, so there are like twelve poems picked for that day. But hundreds were submitted. I'm ridiculously happy, especially since I don't consider myself a poet. Goes to show - if you're gonna rip anyone off, rip off the best, since I borrowed the form from Wallace Stevens's 13 Ways of Looking at a Blackbird.

Poem - About a Painting

Today's poetry prompt is to write a poem about one of two paintings. They are:

Piazza d'Italia by Di Chirico

The Little Deer by Frida Kahlo


Deer by the Water

A flight of arrows
prickle from my hide
an antlered porcupine
spotted with blood.
But I keep flying
by the water
buried deep in trees
Cool hooves hover
branches do not tremble
as I pass.
The river runs too
in the distance.

Ramble Poem

So I wrote a poem, tried to post it, and there was a glitch, and it was lost forever.

Is this a sign?

Today's poetry assignment is to write a poem from the rambling thoughts in your brain. Rigorous editing is suggested.

How is it
that as poetry month progresses
my poetry
gets worse?

My Diet Coke
Tastes like coffee.
My butt
feels like it's been sitting here forever
even though the day
has just begun.

The headset over my right ear
causes a build up of moisture
in the ear canal
leading to a fog upon the brain.

Will I ever finish this novel?
Will I ever finish this script?
Will I ever matter?
Will lunchtime ever get here?
Blame the
brain fog.

Guest Poem

My father, Paul Berry, wrote the poem below in honor of Poetry Month.

Consumer

Across the freeway
at dusk,
the wind flies a
lone,
plastic
bag,

a lost consumer soul,
afloat

full of nothing,
dodging traffic.

longing for
anything,

to fill
the bag

Poem - Day's Activities

Today's poetry assignment is to write a poem based on your day's activities. A mere list probably won't work, but you never know!

Max climbs the mountain that is me
places his two front paws on my sleeping shoulder
stand grand as a stag stamping hooves on a hillside
and wails
(Much too early on a Sunday)
to be fed.

Rumpled resistent
out to the kitchen
to scoop out a glop of wet
Then back to bed
thank you very much
Soft
warm
quiet
dark
the peaceful sleep of a single woman
with no children.

Phone calls
drama
the drama of others
but inside
I am warm
and dark
and peaceful

now that the damn wailing is done.

I told you the poems would often suck. It's Sunday. Just deal.

Poem - Worry

Today's poetry prompt from Robert Lee Brewster's blog is to write a poem about worry. Something that worries you.

I am tempted to write again about the dentist, since that is what has dominated my life of late, and worry about my teeth dates back to an accident I had as a child that set me on a collision course with many endodontists. But I think I've worried that subject (oh do forgive me, I could not resist that pun) enough. I'll manage something else.

At the Office

Did I send her an email
letting her know that Sandy Applebaum called?
No scribbles on my call log
Not with that name.
She's not on the phone sheet.
But I swear
She called.
Like, around 3?
Fuck, it's 5 now.
Check my Sent mail and pray.

Dear god of executive assistants
watch over my emails
and make one of them replete
with Sandy Applebaum
noting time of call
and number.

Rows of emails
rows and rows and rows
sent and sent
Is this how I'm spending my day?
How many hours have
I spent
sending emails
about phone calls
phone calls returning other phone calls --
phone calls that weren't even for me.

My parents spent so much money
on college.
Blame
red weight
I can't climb over it
the underside of a moving cliff
moving down, gasping
a fish thrown onto the carpet
by a careless child.

Oh wait.
There's the email.
sent at 3:07pm
RE: Sandy Applebaum.

Twirl the office chair three times
Look out the window
Remember the sun.

And do check out this Sunday's Opus comic strip, which, as it happens, is all about anxiety.

Poem - Gratitude

Today's poetry prompt is to write a poem about something you're grateful for, or a tribute poem to someone or something. See Robert Lee Brewster's blog with the poetry prompts here.

I had a root canal this morning (well, technically I had three root canals because the tooth has three roots), so expect terrible free verse. Here we go, with apologies to Wallace Stevens (one of my favorite poets):

Seven ways to be grateful for chocolate chips
I
Among the cooling cookies
the chocolate chips sit liquid hot.
semi-sweet bombs ready to explode
on your tongue.
II
After the dentist's drill,
A chocolate chip sits melting
Alone in the corner of my mouth.
III
The mouse nibbles at the corner
of a yellow plastic bag
of chocolate chips
shoved in the back of the cupboard.
Rodent ecstacy.
IV
She rode past the suburbs
in the back seat of a minivan
Once, fear pierced her
as her mother glanced in the rearview mirror
and saw the shadow of chocolate chips
smeared across her lips.
V
I was of three minds
Like three kids
Fighting over a chocolate chip cookie
VI
The chocolate chip rolled across the floor
A small part of the mess.
VII
It was evening all afternoon
It was foggy.
And the fog would never lift.
A chocolate chip cookie sat waiting
in the tupperware.

Poem - Haiku

YAY! Today's poem prompt is to write a haiku.

Robert Lee Brewer's blog entry today is a wealth of info on the haiku, a poetic form I thought I knew. I don't want to steal from him, but here's the gist:

1. Haikus are 17 sounds long, not 17 syllables. Entire poem is three lines long.
2. The 5-7-5 syllable line scheme is not a hard and fast rule. Just make the first and third lines shorter than the middle.
3. Haikus do not have titles.
4. Haikus include a word to indicate a season. So "petal" might indicate spring.
5. Haikus describe nature, with an emphasis on description, not metaphor. No rhyming.

Well! It's a bit more complicated than I thought. My high school pal Chris's famous haiku comes to mind:

Little cockaroach.
Bam bam bam bam bam bam bam
I missed you each time.

There's no word to indicate a season, but in Hawaii, where Chris and I both grew up, there are no seasons. Cockroach is not spelled cockaroach and thus should be two syllables, not three. But in Hawaii, the word is pronounced cock-a-roach by locals. And maybe "missed" is two sounds, not one... miss-d.

But this haiku is genius. Let's be honest. It's hilarious and turns beautifully on that last line, as the best haikus do.

But enough stalling! To work! Prepare all month for hastily written poems...

Rain plops on green hills
Sunshine slants across wet leaves
Cars ignore rainbow

Poem - The Dentist

From Robert Lee Brewer's blog, here's the prompt for today's poem:

Put yourself in someone (or something) else's skin and write a poem about the experience. Who (or what) ever you become, please make that the title of the poem. If you're Buddy Holly, your poem should be called "Buddy Holly." If you're the Bates Motel, your poem should be called "Bates Motel." And so on.

I have to go to the dentist later this afternoon and get some major drilling done. Wish me luck! My dentist is a nice woman, but I nonetheless hate dentists generally. What better skin to step into?

The Dentist

When I glance up from the drill
I see the iris of his eye
contracting.

As blue as the scrubs
my hygenists wear
but with a pinpoint
a black hole.

a falling into darkness
a window to nowhere
a shrill whine
the scent of burning tooth

I squint despite the protective eyewear
as dust from the molar
coats his tongue.

the back of a throat is also black
unknowable
Up into the brain
Down into the heart

But the tooth lies beneath my fingertips.
I've made it white

National Poetry Month

April is National Poetry Month, and Writers Digest blogger Robert Lee Brewster challenges us to write a poem a day this month in his Poetic Asides blog. He gives a specific challenge and then asks you to answer it in a poem.

Oh-kay.

Well, I already missed yesterday, and I don't have time to backtrack, but I'm going to try to post a poem a day from now on for this whole month here on this blog.

Warning: my poems will probably suck.

And they will likely be short.

But I've been wanting to flex my metaphorical muscles and remember the joy of poetry. What better way than to make it a chore?

Sigh.

Fellow SCBWI member and children's author Gregory K. is doing the same on his blog. Today's poem, about a hippo, is not only charming and funny - it rhymes! Expect haikus and, er, free verse from yours truly. I'll be back later to day with the prompt and my poem in response.

If you wish to participate, Robert Lee Brewster encourages everyone to post their poem in the comments on his blog. Go for it!

How TV Development Works

I'm listening in on a call about a pitch for a TV series as I type this. This is about the seventh call/mtg about this pitch that has happened so far, and the last mtg that will take place before the pitch goes to the network.

How does this work? TV is complicated. Let me explain.

First, you have the writer. The writer is hired by the studio (in TV land that means generally ABC/Disney, Warner Bros., Fox, NBC Universal, CBS/Paramount, Sony/Columbia and a few other places) and sent to work with some producers. The producers will be experts on developing scripts for television that have an overall deal at the studio. Often these producers are former studio or network execs, writers, or agents.

So the writer goes off and comes up with a general "take" on the idea he's working on.
(To back up a little, she can either come up with this idea herself, pitch it to the studio, and they agree. Or the studio takes an idea to the writer - often an idea based on a book that a network has expressed an interest in, or an arena (a noir cop show, blended family dramedy) the network likes.)

The writer discusses her take on the idea with the producers. They give notes.

The writer reworks the idea, discusses with producers, and gets more notes.

The writer reworks the idea, discusses with the producers, and hopefully by now it's ready to go to the studio exec.

The writer and producers discuss the idea with the creative studio execs. (These are the development execs you may have heard of). But now you may have up to six people listening to the writer and giving their opinion. The studio execs give notes.

The writer reworks the idea again, talks to the producers about how they've reworked it, and may have to rework again just for the producers. Then writer and producers come back to the studio with the idea, incorporating those notes, or explaining why the notes were not incorporated.

The studio gives more notes.

I am not kidding.

The weird thing is, often the idea does get better and more focused and fleshed out through this process. I swear. Good writers take feedback and make it work for them, one way or another.

The same thing happens again. And probably again. And perhaps again.

Finally, the writer, producers, and studio go over it all once again, prepping the pitch, organizing everything, so that it's ready to go to the network.

Enter the network. For newbies, the network is NBC, ABC, TNT, HBO - the channel that you watch. Thanks to vertical integration, the network is now often owned by the same corporation as the studio, but the executives are different than the studio execs, regardless.

The writer, producers, and studio execs go to the network execs and pitch the idea. At this point, the writer is talking to up to ten other people in the room, trying to convince them their take on this idea is the right one. The network gives notes. At this point the writer either reworks the idea or goes to outline.

You get the idea. Being a television writer requires infinite patience and a talent for pleasing others while keeping your integrity. It's very difficult. And it helps explain why many TV shows feel like many other TV shows. The more cooks you have throwing ingredients into the soup, the more watered down the taste becomes. It takes a writer of great talent and adaptability to survive this process with not only something that will succeed on the air, but that will actually be good.

That said, I've seen writers steered away from disastrous ideas by talented execs. I've seen mediocre ideas shaped into wonderful ones. And I've seen execs give no notes at all when they encounter an idea they think is perfect. And nobody knows their network "identity" better than the network execs. They are the only ones who know what audience they'd like to attract.

But it's minefield.

Exercise #7 - How to Make Buttons

Miranda July excels at getting inside the minds of children, and she embodies that in this absurd short video called "How to Make Buttons."

Watch the video, then come up with a short humorous poem, flash fiction piece, or humorous essay on how to make something, some sort of object we see every day.

Sea World vs. Hollywood

I work and live in Hollywood. The other day Eddie Izzard jogged past me down Hollywood Boulevard. Glamorous types hike with their even more glamorous dogs at a site near my house where Errol Flynn used to live. Silent movie stars built my apartment building. I work on a major studio lot where George Clooney and Brad Pitt can be seen regularly. Famous writers, former studio heads, and pushy producers come into my offices every day for meetings. It's so omnipresent that it's old hat. I forget that some folks might think these things are interesting until I mention it casually to someone not in the industry and see their eyes light up.

So what charmed me this weekend? Hanging with my friend's twin boys at Sea World.

Yes folks, it's the anti-glamour of captive marine mammals, hot sun, and five year old boys who each must have their own ice cream bar shaped like Shamu.

I have mixed feelings about places like Sea World. The seal/sea lion exhibit was awfully small for the eight animals they had cooped up in there. I was relieved to hear during the dolphin show that the dolphins had been born there, but the enormous pilot whales could barely turn around in the pool they kept them in, pre-show. I silently prayed that when they are not performing, they have a much larger world to swim in.

But those twin boys were shivering with delight as they watched the whales splash the audience with their enormous tails. At one point, one of the boys, exhausted from all the excitement, came over and draped himself over me, the way my elderly cat does when he wants to cuddle, and nearly fell asleep.

I'm sure I don't really need to expand on the sweet charm of such a moment. It blows seeing Eddie Izzard in a bright blue jogging suit out of the water. No offense, Eddie.

Single Chicks Rule

As a happy woman who happens to be single at the moment, I really appreciated an email sent to me recently by a friend entitled "The Fairy Tale." Single or attached, check it out. It's so true.

THE WORLD 'S SHORTEST FAIRY TALE

Once upon a time, a guy asked a girl "Will you marry me?" The girl said: "NO!" And the girl lived happily ever-after and went shopping, dancing, camping, drank martinis, always had a clean house, never had to cook, did whatever the hell she wanted, never argued, didn't get fat, traveled more, had many lovers, didn't save money, and had all the hot water to herself. She went to the theater, never watched sports, never wore friggin' lacy lingerie that went up her ass, had high self esteem, never cried or yelled, felt and looked fabulous in sweat pants and was pleasant all the time.

The End

Match it for Pratchett

Author Terry Pratchett has been diagnosed with a rare form of Alzheimer's Disease and has donated half a million English pounds to Alzheimer's research.

If you've read Pratchett's hilarious fantasy novels, which satirize everything from the Iraq war to the the post office, you know what a loss it will be when the disease finally takes control of his brilliant brain. Where else can you find a mysterious, occasionally vicious sentient suitcase, a troll policeman, and an orangutan librarian? Check out Wyrd Sisters to meet some of the coolest witches on earth, and Death's apprentice in Mort.

Want to help? Head on over to Match it For Pratchett, where you can click and donate to match Pratchett's own donation to Alzheimer's research, which is apparently fastly underfunded. Who knew?

Shoes in the Rain - Exercise #6

This week's writing exercise comes from this intriguing photo, found as usual on ffffound.

What happened here?

Write a sentence, a poem, a short story, or whatever you want, giving the reader some idea of what's going on in this photo.

Farewell to "The Wire"

The best TV show ever made is over. I'm depressed that there will be no more new episodes of The Wire.

Don't worry, I won't spoil the ending here. I have a group of friends who still haven't seen the last two episodes, and I must remain mum for fear of inciting their wrath. This weekend they will all come over to my house (I'm the only one with HBO), as they have all season, to watch those episodes, eat pizza, and raise a glass of Jameson's to their favorite show.

Yes, it's almost like a cult. Want to join?

Seriously, if you haven't watched this show, YOU MUST. Anyone who does watch it acquires an almost evangelical fervor about it. Check out this post on McSweeneys if you don't believe me.

Start with Season One, because this novel-like series builds a complex, fascinating web of characters and stories from the very beginning. Events in Season Five harken back to moments in Season Three, or even all the way back to Season One. It's the portrait of the American city. It features some of the best unknown actors on the planet. It's brilliant, angry, violent, insightful, and often hilarious.

It's damned entertaining and enlightening. For a taste, check out this famous scene from Season One, when detectives McNulty and Bunk go to the scene of a long gone murder... and solve it while saying only the word "fuck."

Then go watch it all. A few episodes in, and you'll be joining our cult. I guaran-damn-tee you, dog.

Thanks to creators David Simon and Ed Burns for this show. They are fricking geniuses, our modern day Aeschylus and Sophocles. As Omar Little (played by Michael Williams, pictured above) would say. True 'dat.

Don't Die, Dammit

So here's a real life story that suggests some interesting fictional possibilities.

Reuters reports that "The mayor of a village in southwest France has threatened residents with severe punishment if they die, because there is no room left in the overcrowded cemetery to bury them."

In an ordinance posted in the council offices, Mayor Gerard Lalanne told the 260 residents of the village of Sarpourenx that "all persons not having a plot in the cemetery and wishing to be buried in Sarpourenx are forbidden from dying in the parish."

It added: "Offenders will be severely punished."

The mayor said he was forced to take drastic action after an administrative court in the nearby town of Pau ruled in January that the acquisition of adjoining private land to extend the cemetery would not be justified.

Lalanne, who celebrated his 70th birthday on Wednesday and is standing for election to a seventh term in this month's local elections, said he was sorry that there had not been a positive outcome to the dilemma.

"It may be a laughing matter for some, but not for me," he said.
(Reporting by Claude Canellas, Writing by Andrew Dobbie; editing by Sami Aboudi)

What if the folks in this small village DID stop dying? What if they all remained alive as long as there was no room in the cemetery, and this went on for years? And then what if, all of a sudden, someone offered them land for burials?

Possibilities for story everywhere in this big crazy world!

I feel a short story coming on.

Are You a Cat or a Dog?

All right, one more personality test - are you more Cat or Dog?

Here's my result. Rather predictable for those who know how much of an animal lover I am.

You Are: 50% Dog, 50% Cat

You are a nice blend of cat and dog. You're playful but not too needy. And you're friendly but careful. And while you have your moody moments, you're too happy to stay upset for long.

Are You More Cat or Dog?

What spice are you?

There are days when I love to do these stupid personality tests that tell you which type of dog you are, or which Star Wars character you are. Today's test - what spice are you?

Go here to take the test.

My result? Well, I found it hard to pick which type of food is my favorite, so I picked Italian because my four months in Bologna were the tastiest of my life. So here's what I got.

You Are Basil

You are quite popular and loved by most people. You have a mild temperament, but your style is definitely distinctive. You are sweet, attractive, and you often smell good.

What Spice Are You?

The Homicide Report

Found a sobering, fascinating blog on the LA Times site today called The Homicide Report. written mostly by blogger/reporter Ruben Vives, with contributions from Jill Leovy. It catalogs every single homicide in LA County, along with victim's age, occupation, race, family, and the particulars known about the death. Click on a sidebar and they'll tell you why they report the race of the victims - because race is a huge factor in whether you will die via homicide. Black men make up 4% of the population in Los Angeles, but they are far and away the most numerous victims of homicide. Other statistics are available if you look around and click, including a homicide map of LA, which shows that the area south of the 10 Freeway is much more dangerous than the area north of it.

The story at the top of the page today when I clicked showed a photo of a young black football player, shot to death by two Latino youths when he failed to tell them any gang affiliation. Click on the comments, and you'll see everything from political commentary to condolences.

Each death suggests a longer life cut off too soon. Each suggests a story, a character, or a dreadful moment. It's the real life stuff that trumps fiction every time, and leads a writer to wonder how the earnest lies we write can ever illuminate the truth out there.

Misogyny in Hollywood? No!

Today's must read: Radar Magazine has a funny, spot-on piece available online called "No Country for Fat Chicks," which highlights the most misogynistic films of the past decade.

They begin with Superbad, tweak Ocean's Thirteen, and rightfully slam my pick for most misogynistic movie of the decade, Sin City. Take that 13 going on 30, Bridget Jones' Diary, and Hustle and Flow!

February

by Margaret Atwood from Morning in the Burned House

Winter. Time to eat fat
and watch hockey. In the pewter mornings, the cat,
a black fur sausage with yellow
Houdini eyes, jumps up on the bed and tries
to get onto my head. It's his
way of telling whether or not I'm dead.
If I'm not, he wants to be scratched; if I am
He'll think of something. He settles
on my chest, breathing his breath
of burped-up meat and musty sofas,
purring like a washboard. Some other tomcat,
not yet a capon, has been spraying our front door,
declaring war. It's all about sex and territory,
which are what will finish us off
in the long run. Some cat owners around here
should snip a few testicles. If we wise
hominids were sensible, we'd do that too,
or eat our young, like sharks.
But it's love that does us in. Over and over
Again, He shoots, he scores! and famine
crouches in the bedsheets, ambushing the pulsing
eiderdown, and the windchill factor hits
thirty below, and the pollution pours
out of our chimneys to keep us warm.
February, month of despair,
with a skewered heart in the centre.
I think dire thoughts, and lust for French fries
with a splash of vinegar.
Cat, enough of your greedy whining
and your small pink bumhole.
Off my face! You're the life principle,
more or less, so get going
on a little optimism around here.
Get rid of death. Celebrate increase. Make it be spring.

Exercise # 5 - Who Lives Here?

(Photo from www.ffffound.com)

Writing exercise for the week - who lives here?

UPDATE:
My own haiku thoughts on this important question below.

Stay puft marshmallow
Man exploded on my house.
Dog made it out safe.

Screenwriting vs. Graphic Novels

I enjoyed reading the X-Men comic books in college, which was lo, many years ago, back when Jean Grey became Dark Phoenix and nearly destroyed the universe. My roommate, Alex, would buy the latest issue, and it'd make the rounds of all five of us roomies.

And now one of my favorite TV and film writers, Joss Whedon, is writing X-Men graphic novels with his trademark wit, darkness, and insight. And YA writers like Cecil Castellucci have found success with graphic novels like The Plain Janes, which has been optioned to be a movie. I'm caught up in an online comic that puts out fresh panels every Friday, for free, called The FreakAngels. And I've got a couple of far out movie ideas that would never make it onto the screen. So now, of course, I'm thinking about them as possible graphic novels.

Turns out comics/graphic novels need a writer and an artist. No way could I illustrate one of these puppies. But I'm thinking that my training as a screenwriter would come in handy, since graphic novels demand that the story be told visually just as much, if not more, than it be told in dialogue and prose. Then I'd either have to network and get a great artist, or sell the script to a publisher and let them find one.

So for me the first step is research. I bought a book on writing graphic novels. I started reading more graphic novels. I perused popular titles in the bookstore. I talked to my geek friends (and I have plenty of those!) about it and will be borrowing from their collections. I'm not ready to go forward with my own graphic novel script... yet. My current novel would make a great graphic novel, I think.

But first things first - the actual novel. Then, once that's published to much acclaim (cough cough) I can sell off the movie rights and write the graphic novel version to add money to my overflowing coffers.

Oh wait. I have to actually finish writing the dang thing first, don't I? And wait wait - that takes time, discipline, and talent, doesn't it? Well I guess I better get right on that then. (Hustles off to write some more...)

Get Yer Work On

The writers strike is over at last, and the TV business has gone INSANE.

Did I just put that in all CAPS? Is it justified? (Thinking...) Yes, by gum, it's justified.

It's as if all the pent up energy that would've been spent setting meetings, making deals, schmoozing, and pushing ideas from the months of the strike has emerged all at once and it all must happen now now now.

Selfishly, I'm glad they came to an agreement so that my job is both unthreatened and much more interesting. Is it a good deal? I wish I knew. But the writers I know are happy to get back to work, and everyone's breathing a huge sigh of relief... until the possible Actors strike when their contract expires June 30.

Sigh. Show biz. It's extremely difficult to break in. It batters the shit out of you if you do manage to get your toe in the water. And it's ready to spit you out at a moment's notice.

Flu Block

There's this thing called writer's block that hits me every now and then. Although it's really not a block at all, just my inner critic getting in the way of my creative inner whatcha-majiggy.

But the flu? Now that blocks my writing. I've been suffering from this dang bug for a week now, and I'm sick of it. So to speak.

I'm back at work, but I'm dragging. I haze off into the ether at odd moments, then am brought back to earth by a coughing fit. I'm cancelling all my night time activities and heading straight home to turn my mind off and get some sleep. I even had to beg off from tonight's critique group meeting, which bums me out. I really want to hear their take on the next chapter, but no way I can haul myself all the way over there and back after a full day's work. As for writing? I just can't focus. It's hard enough to read scripts and arrange meetings while I'm at work, let alone come up with hilarious and insightful crap for my novel.

This flu is blocking my writing far worse than my inner critic, and that's saying something. Makes me appreciate how wonderful it is just to feel normal and healthy. Hopefully I'll perk up in the next couple of days so I can kickstart myself back into gear. Once you take some time off from a manuscript, it take a lot of energy to reconnect with it and get back in the swing.

Stay healthy. Wash your hands. Get the flu shot. Shun your sick friends if you want to be well enough to write.

Yes We Can

If you are in a primary state, vote today. I did.

I cast my vote for Obama. But it wasn't an easy choice, and I do feel that whoever wins, we'll be okay. If you're in the mood for a little inspiration and don't mind celebrities, check out this pro-Obama video.

And here he is at his most inspirational in a speech from last year...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BznUPlwbQ7Q

Vote! And hope!

Ultimate SoCal Day

I inherited a couple of free tickets to Disneyland and used them to take a good friend out for an important birthday. This was Superbowl Sunday, now, and it was raining.

Really, just the perfect time to go to Disneyland. The crowds are usually forbidding in that Happiest Place on Earth. Go on a weekend in the summer at your peril. But a rainy Sunday in late January? What the hell!

We got there early and went straight onto my favorite ride, Space Mountain. Without crowds, we managed to cover most of what we wanted at the park and next door California Adventure (check out the Soarin' ride there if you haven't already) by 2:30 or so.

Then we hopped in the car and headed for Malibu to watch the Superbowl with some celebrities and their families.

Didn't I tell you it was the Ultimate SoCal day? As we drove along the 5 freeway, the traffic slowed down unexpectedly. What was this? The Superbowl was just starting! What was everyone doing on the road?

Turns out they were slowing down to lookyloo at a car that had flipped off a bridge onto its roof on the (dry) bed of the so-called LA river. A tow truck slowly hoisted it up. Oy. Not a happy sight. But once again, typical Southern California.

The drive after that was smooth, and we took the 101 to Las Virgenes and Malibu Canyon, a gorgeous drive as the rain broke and the sun shone spectacularly on the wet green hills and shimmering ocean.

One halftime touch football game, lots of buffalo wings, amazing banana cream pie, and a Giants win later, we headed home. Exhausted but satisfied. SoCal can be a glorious, crazy place to live, let me tell you. There's always some new adventure to be had.

Writing Exercise #4 - Hit and Run

Over a year ago I in my green Honda accord was rear-ended by a young woman in her early twenties driving a battered black American-make muscle car of some type. We were on a busy street, and I was stopped at the light and she just rammed into me.

As I sat there, stunned, she got out of her car, and looked at me through my window. "You OK?" she asked. I sort of nodded. "Why don't we get out of traffic? Pull across the street over there and I'll follow you."

"Okay," I said. When the light was green, I pulled across to a side street and waited for her. She gunned her engine and... turned left, racing away. Hit and run. I cursed, did a U-turn, and raced after her, only to be pinned in place by a construction truck.

I called the cops, made a report, and got the car towed to a body shop.

But what was going through that young woman's mind as she cold-bloodedly plotted to get me and my car out of her way so she could make a safe getaway? Taking her point of view, write something (anything from a haiku to a short story) that gives some kind of insight into why she did what she did. Every villain has their own story, their own reasons for what they do. Get inside this one's head.

Believe me, I'd like to know what the hell she was thinking.

Patry Francis - Author of "The Liar's Diary"

(photo "Invisible City" by magic fly paula.)

Writer Patry Francis has a book coming out in paperback today. It's called The Liar's Diary. But she won't be able to promote it because she's busy being treated for an aggressive type of cancer.

Which is where her fellow writers come in. Patry is a member at Red Room, an online community for writers. When they heard about Patry's problem, one of them, Laura Benedict, came up with an idea to help her. Laura began recruiting other writers who blog to talk about Patty and her new book on their blogs today - the day her book comes out. Writers like Neil Gaiman and Khaled Hosseini have joined with institutions like Publisher's Weekly and Writers Digest to blog about Patry and her book today in hopes of publicizing it and showing their support to her as she struggles against cancer.

You can read Patry's own unsentimental account of what she's going through on her blog, Simply Wait. And you can check out her book here.

Beauty Inspires Creativity

Here's another shot of my favorite beach in the world, Bellows on the windward side of Oahu, about 3pm on a Friday afternoon in late December.

A visit to Kulak's Woodshed to listen to five different women singer/songwriters equally inspired me this past Friday.

For a $10 contribution, you can attend this "private club" on Laurel Canyon, close to Magnolia in the Valley, and be part of the audience of a vidcast. The night I went with a friend, we saw a round of four very talented women singer songwriters. Of special note were Tracy Newman (http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendid=72836967) and Michelle Mangione. Tracy was funny, witty, insightful. Michelle rocked out and told stories that felt true. In her one song, "Jupiter," (available on ITunes) she sang: "The hero and the villain are the same."

Now if that doesn't provoke story ideas, I don't know what does.

So go out there and look at something beautiful. Watch talented creative people do their creative thing. It'll nurture your own muse.

How to write a novel

Since I'm still in the process of writing my novel, I like looking around for expert advice. If you're inclined to write a novel, check out the advice of published author David Louis Edelman here in his blog Deep Genre.

Writing Exercise #3 - Luminiferous

Look at this cool, weird gun! I found this image on ffffound, and a dozen scenarios involving possible targets of this gun immediately sprang to mind.

Or perhaps it's not a gun, but an "exciter," which does something to the "aether"? I can't read the small print on this image. But in a way that makes it an even better stimulus for ideas.

This week's assignment is to write a scene featuring this device. It must be used at some point in the scene.

Extra points for using the word "luminiferous" in a way that makes the word's meaning clear without giving me a flat-out dictionary-type definition.

Update: Thanks to a perspicacious reader, I've identified this illustration as coming from Dr. Grordbort's Contrapulatonic Dingus Directory. You can find out more at the accompanying website Dr. Grordbort's Infallible Aether Oscillators and other Marvelous Contraptions, created by Greg Broadmore. Raygun lovers rejoice!

Isn't Nature Wonderful?

Need to bring your blood pressure down 15 points? Want a glimpse of heaven under water? Harbor any doubts that animals can be as intelligent, playful, and beautiful as humans? Watch this video.

:-0

Writing Exercise #2 - The Mascot

Even if you have no interest in writing exercises, keep on reading. The material below is fascinating - no thanks to me!

On January 16 I listened to an extradinary interview on NPR's show The World. Anchor Lisa Mullins did an interview with Alex Kurzen, a Jewish man now in his 70's who lives in Australia but who survived the Holocaust in an extradinary fashion. When he was about five years old, the Nazis slaughtered everyone in his Russian village, including every member of his family. He escaped, only to be saved and adopted by a group of Latvian soldiers in league with the Nazis. This tiny Jewish boy survived World War II acting as a sort of "mascot" for this group of mass murderers. He witnessed many horrors, even as they were kind to him. After the war, he moved to Australia and started a family, and he never spoke of his experiences. At the age of 72, he finally told his son Mark the story and asked him to verify it all for him. Even to Alex Kurzem, it all seemed like a dream.

That's just the start of this extraordinary tale. Listen to the interview here. Scroll down till you see the segment titled "Alex Kurzem - The Mascot" and listen to the interview. It's riveting. There are also links to photos, including some of Alex as a boy in an SS uniform, and to the book his son wrote about their search for the truth.

After perusing these materials, your writing exercise is to take a moment or two from this amazing story and write it from the point of view of the five-year-old Jewish boy who has been adopted by these Nazi-affiliated soldiers. It can be anything from a haiku to a full fledged short story.

Even if you have no interest in writing, I urge you to listen to this story. It'll move you.

Publish your Writing!

So I've just had a reader response to my post suggesting a writing exercise. (Scroll down or click here to read the exercise.)

A reader has started to write a story in response to this exercise! I'm so excited!

Someone actually reads my blog.
Someone followed one of my writing suggestions!
Someone contacted me about it!

Okay, so it's all the same "someone," but you get the idea.

Which has inspired me to add a feature to my blog...

I will post a writing exercise once a week. Readers who write a piece in response can send it to me at nina@ninaberry.com, and if it's good, I will post it on my blog.

A few rules:
1) So-called obscene words and situation ARE allowed. I don't mind the occasional "fuck" (if you know what I mean) or sex scene at all. But if your story indicates a psychopathic obsession with killing, say, or it makes me think you need psychiatric help, I probably won't post it. That said, I think writing should move the reader. So if it moves me to feel horror or sadness or something, that's all good.

2) All genres accepted. That includes humor, sci-fi, fantasy, poetry (all types - limericks, haiku, sonnets, free form), horror, erotica, "literary" (whatever that means) and so on. I'll read more abstract or experimental stuff, but that's not something I usually enjoy and so the cards are stacked against you if that's your style.

3) Pieces can be anywhere from one sentence to 2,000 words. Now 2,000 words is long, especially for reading on the web. So I suggest you keep it a lot shorter than that. This rule may be revised as I see how many really long posts I want to add here.

4) There's no absolute deadline for sending me pieces based on writing exercises. Say you write a piece based on an exercise I posted two months ago - I'll still publish it if I like it.

5) Decision on what to publish here is up to me, Nina Berry, and only me. No payment of any kind to the writer can or will be made. But you'll be able to say you were published in a webzine. Dude, how cool is that? On your website you'll be able to link to your story here and show that an outside party thought it worthy.

True, that outside party is little old me. But, believe it or not, I have a lot of editing experience. I've edited five published books. I've been paid to read and analyze film and television scripts by Playboy and Warner Bros. I made it to the semi-finals of the Nicholl Fellowships and to the finals of the Disney TV Writing Fellowships. I wrote an episode of the synidicated TV show Ghost Stories. If I think your story is good, then it probably is.

6) Rules may be added, deleted, or amended at any time and at my whim. If I get overwhelmed by responses (ha!) that may happen.

7) Pieces may be proofread and spelling problems fixed before I publish them.

8) But please try to send clearly typed pieces, sent in the body (not an attachment) of your email that have been thoroughly proofed and spellchecked. Pieces with egregious spelling and grammar issues will tire me out and not get serious consideration.

I already have a great photo to base the next exercise on. Not all exercises will include photos, but I think they're a great way to get a story going in your brain. Now that I think on it, my first exercise, with three crazy photos to tie together, is a tad challenging. Not all exercises will be so nutty. But some just might!

Feel free to send pieces based on that first exercise. Another one will come your way next week!

9) If I publish your piece, I only need first time publication rights. After it appears here, do with it what you will. But no pieces that have been published elsewhere. The pieces are meant to be based on writing exercises presented here, not on stuff you did before. The idea is to get your imagination working and your writing juices flowing, and other metaphors that imply activity and imagination.

10) If I don't publish your piece within two weeks, figure that it won't get published. I may or may not be able to respond with a yes or no to all your emails. So if two weeks go by and it ain't up here, then figure it's a "no, thanks," and move on.

More rules as I think of them. Happy writing!

ffffound

Found (ha!) a cool new site called ffffound that features nothing but images.

From the eerily charming:



To the terrifying:



To that which raises a question in the mind:



A possible writing exercise - look at each of these photos and then write a story that incorporates elements of all three.

The Universe is Sherwood Forest

So Yahoo news had this cool story about "rogue black holes" on the web today. Check it out here.

This is one of those instances when a phrase sends my imagination off into Neverland. Imagine, rogue black holes, roaming our galaxy in search of stars and planets to gobble up. Suddenly, our universe seems like a vast jungle where polite, civilized stars and planetary systems are quietly making their way down the path, minding their own business, when they are suddenly jumped by an outlaw black hole. Once inside that rogue's event horizon, you're doomed. Doomed, I tell you!

What if the black holes got together and ganged up on all the stars, nebulae, and planets, and quasars? Would they form one gigando black hole that sucked in all matter and obliterated the known universe?

What if one black hole turned Robin Hood and started spewing the stars he'd eaten back out into the dark space between galaxies, stealing from the matter-rich parts of the galaxy and giving back to the impoverished?

What if, like giant, light-sucking tigers, black holes stalked and pounced upon unsuspecting white dwarves and red giants?

I mean, seriously. The universe is just like some Tolkein rip-off fantasy novel.

Serve the Story

So I'm writing my novel the other day, and I get to a scene where the female protagonist has to re-enter a group of old friends, most of whom did not treat her well, and one of whom is her ex-boyfriend who has hooked up with someone else.

I wasn't sure what I needed from this scene as I wrote it. I knew the scene was somehow necessary and should be dramatic, but what was my heroine trying to accomplish here? What were the specific conflicts, and how should I use them to drive the story forward?

The suddenly I was writing down words I'd always wanted to say to one of my exes. The words poured out of my heroine's mouth with all the power and anger I didn't get the chance to express all those years ago. I wrote down the response of the Ex, which was the same sort of self-justification my ex offered up to me, and which can still make my blood boil. And my fingers flew over the keyboard, and I was all intense, focused on making a scene happen in my book that never got to happen in real life. It felt good to make blood drip from my pen (yeah, that's a metaphor).

That night, I was lying in bed, and I thought - hold on a second! Is my heroine's relationship with her ex REALLY just like my relationship with mine?

Uh, no.

And just exactly how does that scene serve the story and move the plot along?

Well, it's doesn't. Not really. But it's good! It flows. It's full of passion and fire. It's witty. It's fun.

So what? This isn't about you, it's about the characters you created. It's about serving this story, not your story. You wanna berate the bonehead who mistreated you in print? Then write a story about THAT. This is NOT that story. It's a better one.

Then I got all up in my own shit. I berated myself for still having anger, for not having completely let go of issues long dead. I thought I was done. I thought I didn't give a hoot. I thought I was happy and otherwise occupied. And even worse I thought - I've ruined my novel! I've derailed its focus! I'm a bad writer!

The next day I looked again at that scene and deleted - a page. That's all I'd written that was wrong. I hadn't derailed diddly squat. All I had to do was delete a page of stuff that didn't work, rethink what I wanted from the scene, and take a stab at it.

Then I forgave myself for my anger. And I wrote a damn good scene.

Lesson here? Sometimes it helps to write out the crazy stuff that's in your head. Being a writer is a bit of a power trip. You are the demiurge, the omnipotent Creator, and in your world, people do whatever you tell them. But don't mistake your issues for whatever your characters are going through. Don't let your own life take over your novel. Your own life is not nearly interesting or structured enough to be a novel. You are the creator, but you are also the servant of the story. Serve it well, then you will serve the reader too.

The Last Word

I got chills when I read this blog post today.

It's the last blog post ever from a soldier named Andrew Olmsted, a blogger for the Rocky Mountain News, who died in Iraq. He wrote his "last entry" to be posted in the event of his demise. And die he did. In the war.

According to this NY Times article he died January 3 in Sadiyah from small arms fire from insurgents.

What a strange, sad, yet oddly uplifting thing it is to read someone's final words.

Holy Wombat

Spirituality is pretty simple, when you think about it. Folks complicate it by saying "my belief system is better than yours," but really, it all comes down to what the Holy Wombat says here.

Happy New Year!

Happy Holidays!

I'm humming as I walk around the house these days because I do love Christmas. Lights now hang on my wall, and if it didn't make me nutty I'd hang jingle bells on the cats and officially become a crazy cat lady.

And soon I shall be spending Christmas the way it was meant to be spent - at the beach.

Call me crazy. Call me spoiled. But Bing Crosby was wrong. White Christmases are overrated. Try surfing warm turquoise waters or lounging on soft white sand in the shade of a coconut tree while tropical breezes blow. That's Christmas to me.

Yes, I've lived in snowy climes. Six years in Chicago, thank you very much. When it started snowing I was the first to shout "snowball fight!" and drag my dormmates outdoors for a battle. I remember feeling so cooped up one winter that I dashed out of my apartment around 1am and found myself at a deserted playground, where I made a snow angel and swung high on the swings. I love the crunch of snow under waterproof boots, the deserted lamplit quads at night the University of Chicago softened and blurred by flurries of snowflakes. The Vienna Woods were a gorgeous study in black and white in December.

But would I rather be lounging in a bathing suit under a hot yellow sun (covered in sunscreen) gazing out at blue-green ocean deepening to purple at the horizon?

Duh.

You know I'll be posting the required photo of Bellows, the best beach on earth. I'm so danged lucky.

Love and Happy Holidays to all. May you find the best beach on earth in your heart this holiday season!

Tis the Season

...For a sweet short film called Tis the Season.

My good friend Sarah Baker produced it and was the assistant director. It's being shown on all Delta flights this holiday season. It's part of a contest, where the movie who gets the most votes wins, and the makers make a small stipend.

So go to this site, watch the movie, which is only six minutes long, and give this movie five stars so Sarah can win!

Facebook Madness

I just joined Facebook, and it effectively 'wasted' several hours of my time as I looked up everyone in my address book, reconnected with some old friends, and spied on a couple of guys to see if they were the same guys I dated oh so many years ago.

This thing is insidious!

Why join? Why waste time like this?

Well, there's this whole networking thing going on there, even among those over the age of 22. A lot of people at my workplace are on there, not to mention agents, producers, execs at other companies. Once you make one "friend" you can see their friends and possibly connect with them. Film and TV-land is small. My plan is to check in on fellow Warner Bros folks, reconnect with old friends, see if that cute guy from college remembers me, and eventually use it to network once my book is published.

Yes, it will be published, by gum. Gotta finish writing it first, though!

If you're on Facebook, look up Nina Berry and ask to be my friend. We can all use more friends!

November Word Count

Well, I didn't make my goal of 50,000 words in November. You may recall I entered NaNoWriMo with that stated goal.

However, I did write 28,435 words! Yee ha!

To put that in perspective, that's 98 pages, double spaced, in 12-point Times New Roman with page breaks between each of the eight chapters.

The reasons for not reaching 50k words are varied. The main one is that I'm not really motivated by competition or arbitrary goals. For example, I often work out by running around my neighborhood. I have no idea how far I run and have no interest in figuring that out. I just know that it feels right and helps keep me in shape. So when it comes to writing, I'm motivated because I love the project and love the process of writing it. So even though I failed to reach the 50k mark, I succeeded in instilling the writing habit in myself and wrote 98 damn pages of pretty good stuff.

I also couldn't resist doing some rewriting during that month. I know, I know. The idea was just to forge ahead, and be-damned to the quality. But as I wrote, I came up with good ideas for the earlier parts and felt the need to go back and stick them in before those good ideas vanished. I also got some great notes from my critique group and wanted to effect those before I lost the gist.

As a result I'm about 40% done with my novel. And I'm still high on it. I'll be writing more, every day. Early next year it'll be done, then watch out literary agents!

Titles

Finding a title for your book is tough. So many possibilities! I have time to come up with mine still because I'm maybe 40% into my first draft, but the issue continues to vex me.

Yes, I used the word "vex." I like it. Sue me.

One strategy I use is to find cool quotes that deal with themes or issues in the book. I'm considering using such quotes at the top of each chapter, or maybe just one quote at the beginning of the book. Regardless, sometimes the quote has a phrase in it that makes a nice title. Shakespeare and the Bible have been pillaged for book titles - Something Wicked This Way Comes springs to mind, but there are dozens more.

I recall a line from an Aeschylus play: "Still there drips in sleep against the mind/Grief of memory." I always liked "Grief of Memory" as a phrase but have yet to come up with an idea where it's an appropriate title. An obscure eighties song had some lyrics: "I met the devil at a party/we played power games./He out-sinistered me severely/I had to look away." Not great lyrics, but I love the pseudo word "out-sinistered." Not sure how that might be used in a title, but juicy words like Sinister and Nefarious often make good title fodder. But then I like turning odd nouns into verbs like that as well.

Thesauri are useful for titling. As is surfing Amazon.com and seeing what titles others in your genre (or other genres) have used. See what works for you and what doesn't. Come up with a huge list, then begin to whittle.

Say the titles out loud. This often weeds out the silly ones that might past muster if you only read them in your head. In fact, try reading all your fiction out loud to yourself. It's a great way to see what works and what doesn't.

Late Night TV Fix

Missing your late night television these days because of the writers' strike? Well, I have a stopgap measure that will help you get through these dark days without John Stewart and David Letterman.

The writers from Letterman's "Late Night" show have started a blog. It's funny as hell. A must read, regardless of your take on the strike. Occasional political jokes speckle the posts there, just to give you a small political humor fix.

Then, Comedy Central has finally done John Stewart's "The Daily Show" justice by making a very accessible archive of all their bits available. This is truly a treasure trove of political humor. Go back in time and see Steven Colbert before he got his own show and Steve Carrel before Forty Year Old Virgin and The Office. Search by any term - "Dick Cheney" or "Rob Corddry" or "elephant," and you'll get something hilarious. Check out this priceless piece as Steward and Corddry discuss the Dick Cheney shooting incident in 2006:

A World Without Writers

I'm sick of arguing about the writers strike. (For the record, I sympathize mostly with the writers, although I am not in the WGA and I work for a studio. A prolonged strike might lead to me getting laid off.) People have actually YELLED at me about this, and have gone on yelling for minutes at a time. The whole topic now gives me a headache. I will say that if you a provider of creative content of any kind, you might want to pay attention.

BUT - this video is pretty funny, and can be appreciated no matter what you think of the strike.

13,000 words and counting...

So I've written about 13,000 words since November 1.

Well, I've actually written more than that, but I couldn't resist the urge to rewrite. I got some good feedback from my critique group and wanted to follow their suggestions while they were still fresh in my head, so I went back and renovated the first couple of scenes in my book.

So I'm still way behind in my ambition to write 50,000 words this month. Don't know exactly where I should be, but today is November 12, not that far from the halfway mark. By the 15th, I should've written 25,000 words, and there's no way I'll make up the difference and write 12,000 more words in three days. Truth is, worry about the writers strike/my job/other life issues has taken a bit of a toll. Nonetheless, I have written something every single day this month. I really hope to establish this as a life long habit, and so far so good.

So I am not downcast. I'm 13,000 words into my novel! And lots of it is actually good! At this rate I will be more than halfway done with it by the end of the month. And if I have a blast of energy and creativity, I may actually get close to done. Hee hee! Writing is fun! I've actually come up with a very viable idea for another novel series even as I bash away at this series. Creativity breeds further creativity. I feel quite happy in spite of possible job loss looming before me.

Productivity plus creativity equals happiness. At least for me.

Download Me! I'm in a Podcast

My friend Pilar Alessandra has a popular podcast about screenwriting, and this week she asked me to join her and share my so-called expertise on TV writing and development with her listeners. I was one of two guests, the other a great TV writer, and we discussed the current WGA strike, how being a writer's assistant leads to being a writer, and other aspects of writing for television. All this while sipping beers and having a few laughs! It's fun, it's free, and it's about 30 minutes long. You can click on the link below and then click on Ep. 10 to hear it. Or search on ITunes for "On the Page: Screenwriting" and you'll be able to download Ep. 10 for free there as well.

Hey, I'm just glad I don't sound like too much of an idiot... And I'm grabbing my five seconds of "fame" while I can!

http://feeds.feedburner.com/OnThePage

Gah! Falling behind...

So I haven't been particularly good about writing these past few days. Last night I had a meeting with my critique group (great feedback, guys!), got home, gabbed on the phone for an hour, and then collapsed into bed. Work is surprisingly busy. Surprising because you'd think with the writer's strike there'd be tumbleweeds blowing through here.

Well, that's my excuse, anyway!

And now I really want to rewrite the first couple of scenes rather than forge ahead with new scenes! Ack! What to do!?

Why We Invaded Iraq

This week's comic strip from Berkeley Breathed explains so much...

Click on it to make it larger and easier to read.

NaNo count - 3639

Mixed success on the writing front for NaNoWriMo - only about 3600 words so far, and we're five days in. I'm behind at least 1700 words.

BUT - I had a nice Sunday at my last screenwriting class, recorded a podcast for a friend, and had delicious stew at a close friends house and saw some folks I hadn't seen in ages.

As soon as the podcast is available on ITunes, I'll post about it. My friend Pilar has a popular free podcast about screenwriting, and she asked me to sit in as one of her guests to discuss the WGA strike and writing for television. It's quite fun, and informative. At least I hope so! I'll have to listen to myself and make sure I don't sound like a fool...

Day One Word Count

Success! As of 7:10pm tonight, I'd written 1829 words of my novel, more than the daily average of 1667 I was shooting for.

Now I can watch 30 Rock and The Office guilt free!

National Novel Writing Month - Day 1

NaNoWriMo begins today. The goal is to write 50,000 words of your novel in the month of November, which means a daily average of 1,667. As Homer Simpson would say - "A-bah!"

So I got up an hour early today to write.

Yes, really.

Those who know me, know that this is a big deal. I am not a morning person. Most days I sleep until 8am to be at work by 9:30am. (Ah, Hollywood!) But today my alarm went off at 7am, frightening the cats. I listened to the news on KCRW, trying to justify pressing the snooze button. But no dice. I got up, got ready for work, then sat down to write just a few minutes after 8am. I don't drink coffee. That may change if this keeps up...

I wrote 644 words in that hour. Not bad. But - I need two more hours like that today and I'll more than have the daily wordcount covered. That sounds easy, but it isn't, especially since I'm tired from getting up an hour early.

Then I have to do it all over again tomorrow. And then the day after that. And the day after that...

This whole writing thing is hard work. Dang!

The only good thing for me that might come out of a writers strike here in Hollywood is that work will slow down considerably and I may be able to write while at work. Heck, if I get laid off, I could end up writing 100,000 words!

Oy. Let's hope THAT doesn't happen.

I'll post an honest daily word count tomorrow. Wish me luck!