Funny how sometimes things can stare you right in the face and you don't see it for long time.
Regular readers will know that I am as active as a novelist as I am a filmmaker, and often write about Artistic Cross Training. I've been aware since I saw Rollerball (1975) as a kid that short stories are excellent sources for feature and/or short narrative films. The disciplines coincide well, since both require tight, economic, use of story, character, actions, etc.
And I'm not the only one to think so. In doing some quick research, I ran across this excellent top ten list on the subject.
So what's been staring me in the face? SELF-PROMOTION!
I am published in an anthology called SPRING FEVERS and THE FALL: TALES FROM THE APOCALYPSE which are available on most e-book platforms. If you are a filmmaker looking for material, these collections are an excellent source.
Short stories are always a labor of love, since they never make any money. Authors great and small will be happy to talk to you about them, so don't hesitate to reach out.
If you're a filmmaker and not a film writer, I'd suggest you read as many anthologies as you can get your hands on. I hope you start with these.
Saturday, June 23, 2012
Thursday, June 14, 2012
THESE ARE GOOD TIMES
During the Q & A for In Heaven There Is No Beer, Steve Hicks from Fuzz Track City – who was gracious enough to come to just about every movie – asked a brilliant question.
"Do all scenes have to die?"
It was relevant to the film – a documentary about a magical time in the LA music scene – and it was relevant to so much more. The movie screened on the last day of the festival. The last day of year 15. From where I stood on stage I could feel the filmmakers scattered around the audience, or mostly, up in the balcony, have a physical reaction as they realized their scene was about to end.
And I remembered mine. One week in June of 2000 on Sunset Blvd. Standing outside of the Sunset 5 ticket booth hearing a complete stranger say, "Two tickets for 'Jacks Or Better.'" Walking down to Dublin's Pub for happy hour – where some young woman tried to get us to sign up for something called a social website thing for artists. She told us it was a place where we could have a page promoting our work – and none of understood what she was talking about. Three years later it turned out to be MySpace.
I remember not buying a T-shirt and always regretting it. I remember hanging out with Meg and Mitch – and how brilliant their movies were.
The movies.
I remember them the most. Calling Bobcat – a Beer, Booze and Boobs movie about guys on a drinking binge who find Bobcat Goldthwaite's phone number and end up calling him. Goldthwaite isn't in the movie, but my friend and producer, Hilton Smith, had a contact to Bobcat's manager, so we got him to the screening. The last question of the Q & A came from a man in the back, who the filmmaker had to step over to get to the stage. "Yeah," came the iconic voice, "My name is Bobcat Goldthwaite..."
I don't remember the rest of the question, but it ended well.
I remember The Cat Killers hilarious scene of murderers breaking into a man's house as he writes his suicide note. I remember Final Rinse – and how we both landed at the Riverrun Film Festival when it was in Brevard, NC. I remember Cage in Box Elder, Little Red, The Pig Farm – what great people – Meg's True Rights, and of course, Attack of the Bat Monsters.
So many memories packed into such a small amount of time.
I suppose that's what a scene is, really. A group of people creating shared memories that are so burnt into their brains that, at some point while it's happening, they realize – these are good times.
That phrase is so much better in the present tense. "Those were good times," is nice too, but it's not living in the moment and aware of the moment.
People often ask me why I continue to do Dances With Films. I usually make a joke about it, but I think the real answer might be that I like being part of a team that creates a one-week-long, life-changing, scene for a group of fantastic people. It takes months and months of work. It springs into life, and then too quickly it dies, as all scenes must do.
And then, some 50 weeks later, it is resurrected. Those who have lived it, enjoy it in a different way than their first time. Those who are new, if they are lucky, will realize:
These Are Good Times.
"Do all scenes have to die?"
It was relevant to the film – a documentary about a magical time in the LA music scene – and it was relevant to so much more. The movie screened on the last day of the festival. The last day of year 15. From where I stood on stage I could feel the filmmakers scattered around the audience, or mostly, up in the balcony, have a physical reaction as they realized their scene was about to end.
And I remembered mine. One week in June of 2000 on Sunset Blvd. Standing outside of the Sunset 5 ticket booth hearing a complete stranger say, "Two tickets for 'Jacks Or Better.'" Walking down to Dublin's Pub for happy hour – where some young woman tried to get us to sign up for something called a social website thing for artists. She told us it was a place where we could have a page promoting our work – and none of understood what she was talking about. Three years later it turned out to be MySpace.
I remember not buying a T-shirt and always regretting it. I remember hanging out with Meg and Mitch – and how brilliant their movies were.
The movies.
I remember them the most. Calling Bobcat – a Beer, Booze and Boobs movie about guys on a drinking binge who find Bobcat Goldthwaite's phone number and end up calling him. Goldthwaite isn't in the movie, but my friend and producer, Hilton Smith, had a contact to Bobcat's manager, so we got him to the screening. The last question of the Q & A came from a man in the back, who the filmmaker had to step over to get to the stage. "Yeah," came the iconic voice, "My name is Bobcat Goldthwaite..."
I don't remember the rest of the question, but it ended well.
I remember The Cat Killers hilarious scene of murderers breaking into a man's house as he writes his suicide note. I remember Final Rinse – and how we both landed at the Riverrun Film Festival when it was in Brevard, NC. I remember Cage in Box Elder, Little Red, The Pig Farm – what great people – Meg's True Rights, and of course, Attack of the Bat Monsters.
So many memories packed into such a small amount of time.
I suppose that's what a scene is, really. A group of people creating shared memories that are so burnt into their brains that, at some point while it's happening, they realize – these are good times.
That phrase is so much better in the present tense. "Those were good times," is nice too, but it's not living in the moment and aware of the moment.
People often ask me why I continue to do Dances With Films. I usually make a joke about it, but I think the real answer might be that I like being part of a team that creates a one-week-long, life-changing, scene for a group of fantastic people. It takes months and months of work. It springs into life, and then too quickly it dies, as all scenes must do.
And then, some 50 weeks later, it is resurrected. Those who have lived it, enjoy it in a different way than their first time. Those who are new, if they are lucky, will realize:
These Are Good Times.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Love It!
Obviously, I'm not one to live blog events. There are times to do stuff and times to report on it. This week is the time to do.
But I did want to take a quick moment this morning before running back to the 2-Minute 2-Step set to thank all of the people who have told me how much they appreciate the blog. Applause, whether from a crowd or one person at a time, is a nice way to get paid.
Thanks for reading.
But I did want to take a quick moment this morning before running back to the 2-Minute 2-Step set to thank all of the people who have told me how much they appreciate the blog. Applause, whether from a crowd or one person at a time, is a nice way to get paid.
Thanks for reading.
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