So I couldn't pass on a direct challenge from Todd to finish the previous post, James Lipton edition. Todd, this means you're on. I fear Blogger will eat my post. It has eaten every comment reponse I've attempted in the past week, like shark-infested waters around Thriller Island. And oh, my comments to your comments were the well-thought-out, inspired kind of retorts. Mostly, I'll just say thanks for the comments and keep them coming.
Before I go all Inside-the-Actor's-Studio on you, I could give you a half dozen reasons why I can't seem to get more than one post up a week during this crazy month, but I'd rather share some amazing news. Through creative budgeting, I will not be working in the classroom next year. What will I fill my days with, you ask? Why, sitting around in my pajama bottoms writing fiction. I'm pretty sure if there's a heaven on earth, that just might be it. Okay, add a plate of dark chocolate and that would be it. Oh, and a cabana boy to rub my stiff neck. That would really be it. I'm done now. Seriously. Fasten your seat belts. This is the year the Vortex hits hyperspeed.
Now, for James Lipton, the Parisan pimp.
What is your favorite word? antidisestablishmentarianism. Oh, and bestseller.
What is your least favorite word? rejection
What turns you on (creatively, spiritually or emotionally)? time alone
What turns you off? negativity
What sound or noise do you love? snow falling
What sound or noise do you hate? the Cartman ringtone I've assigned a certain individual
What is your favorite curse word? to write: son-of-a-bitch to say: shit
What profession other than your own would you like to attempt? professional organizer
What profession would you not like to do? exterminator
If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?
"I couldn't have written a better life story, myself."
Monday, May 16, 2011
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Thursday, May 5, 2011
The Unfinished
Blogger saves every bundle of virtual trash in the form of drafts. Why have I not purged them, you ask? Not sure. Will this post be the equivalent of false starts and missteps tattooed on my writerly reputation? Quite possible. For most of them, I have no idea what road I was headed down. But dead-ends can be fun, too. Whee! Ready?
12.01.10 It's entirely possible I may have to go to confession after this post, but we'll try to keep the subject of Father-What-A-Wastes on the high-end of classy. Girls who grew up Catholic know to whom I refer. That priest that moved from a different diocese who sparked your sudden interest in attending mass-frequently and with aplomb enough to fill a convent. The one you'd never let hear your confession for fear you'd leave out the one thing you should confess. The one that was so rare, so angelic of face, you finally understood the whole in-God's-image schtick. I always imagined it quite a burden to someone who wished to be acknowledged for more spiritual things.
Lest you believe I am making this up, Hollywood has capitalized on this unattainable fantasy born in the hearts of pubescent girls all over the world.
8.30.09 Of late, I admit to being the fickle conductor in my own symphony. I don't like being this way. It's a rare state for me. I'm not sure why this mind spasm has dominated the past two weeks, but it feels rather like chasing my own tail right back to the spot I began. I've assembled before me an orchestra of writers and readers, all of varying instruments and tastes, each well-meaning and genuine. I adore them all for what they have brought to symphonies past. I would have nothing of value guiding my wand were it not for each one of them. But today, I wave my arms (in dramatic diva fashion) and declare "Silence!"
Today, it can no longer be their notes or the attitude with which they attack the strings. It can only be the music in my head. Even me, of little faith in my own instincts...
3/27/08 I actually have four longer posts backing up in my mind I'll get to eventually, bu...
2/20/08 Remember when you were younger and calling "Time and Temperature" amounted to a daily ritual of self-importance? Maybe in your limited pre-teen social demographic, the act of dialing the phone thrust you into a simulated state of popularity. Maybe you became the gatekeeper to your family's day's coiture--a pint-sized forecaster. Maybe this is all just me and I've laid out for you some semi-neurotic starting point for the whole time thing. But, admit it. Knowing you've calibrated your life to some kind of official standard does synchronize you to the world in a deep breath kind of way, right?
10.03.07 I'm amazed at the number of shows on TV right now that deal with the supernatural. Maybe I'm more tuned into them because it's Halloween, but it seems almost every channel has something about spirit guides, psychic rescuers and ghost hunters. So, in the spirit of the season, I offer you my own ghost story.
Our house is new construction, built on land that, no doubt, has been part of the state's cattle industry back to the city's inception. Before that, frontier land.
When we moved in five years ago, I'd never seen anything I'd categorize as a strange phenomenon. I'd had the experiences of deja-vu and even a sixth sense, especially when it came to family, but nothing like the flashes I began to experience here. First, the image of an adult--someone at my height--turning the corner in our pitch-black hallway. Of course, I dismissed it as my mind playing tricks on me. I'd been up writing long after everyone else had gone to sleep and the faint blue glow could have been some kind of monitor after-burn on my eyes.
6.25.07 James Lipton will never ask me these questions, but my writer friend, Shannon, has tagged me to answer these infamous questions from Inside the Actor's Studio. Here goes:
What is your favorite word?
What is your least favorite word? Denied
What turns you on (creatively, spiritually or emotionally)?
What turns you off?
What sound or noise do you love?
What sound or noise do you hate?
What is your favorite curse word? Son-of-a-bitch
What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?
What profession would you not like to do?
If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?
Click through if you're on feed and vote for the draft you'd most like to see finished and posted.
Oh, and have a raining-awesome kind of weekend.
12.01.10 It's entirely possible I may have to go to confession after this post, but we'll try to keep the subject of Father-What-A-Wastes on the high-end of classy. Girls who grew up Catholic know to whom I refer. That priest that moved from a different diocese who sparked your sudden interest in attending mass-frequently and with aplomb enough to fill a convent. The one you'd never let hear your confession for fear you'd leave out the one thing you should confess. The one that was so rare, so angelic of face, you finally understood the whole in-God's-image schtick. I always imagined it quite a burden to someone who wished to be acknowledged for more spiritual things.
Lest you believe I am making this up, Hollywood has capitalized on this unattainable fantasy born in the hearts of pubescent girls all over the world.
8.30.09 Of late, I admit to being the fickle conductor in my own symphony. I don't like being this way. It's a rare state for me. I'm not sure why this mind spasm has dominated the past two weeks, but it feels rather like chasing my own tail right back to the spot I began. I've assembled before me an orchestra of writers and readers, all of varying instruments and tastes, each well-meaning and genuine. I adore them all for what they have brought to symphonies past. I would have nothing of value guiding my wand were it not for each one of them. But today, I wave my arms (in dramatic diva fashion) and declare "Silence!"
Today, it can no longer be their notes or the attitude with which they attack the strings. It can only be the music in my head. Even me, of little faith in my own instincts...
3/27/08 I actually have four longer posts backing up in my mind I'll get to eventually, bu...
2/20/08 Remember when you were younger and calling "Time and Temperature" amounted to a daily ritual of self-importance? Maybe in your limited pre-teen social demographic, the act of dialing the phone thrust you into a simulated state of popularity. Maybe you became the gatekeeper to your family's day's coiture--a pint-sized forecaster. Maybe this is all just me and I've laid out for you some semi-neurotic starting point for the whole time thing. But, admit it. Knowing you've calibrated your life to some kind of official standard does synchronize you to the world in a deep breath kind of way, right?
10.03.07 I'm amazed at the number of shows on TV right now that deal with the supernatural. Maybe I'm more tuned into them because it's Halloween, but it seems almost every channel has something about spirit guides, psychic rescuers and ghost hunters. So, in the spirit of the season, I offer you my own ghost story.
Our house is new construction, built on land that, no doubt, has been part of the state's cattle industry back to the city's inception. Before that, frontier land.
When we moved in five years ago, I'd never seen anything I'd categorize as a strange phenomenon. I'd had the experiences of deja-vu and even a sixth sense, especially when it came to family, but nothing like the flashes I began to experience here. First, the image of an adult--someone at my height--turning the corner in our pitch-black hallway. Of course, I dismissed it as my mind playing tricks on me. I'd been up writing long after everyone else had gone to sleep and the faint blue glow could have been some kind of monitor after-burn on my eyes.
6.25.07 James Lipton will never ask me these questions, but my writer friend, Shannon, has tagged me to answer these infamous questions from Inside the Actor's Studio. Here goes:
What is your favorite word?
What is your least favorite word? Denied
What turns you on (creatively, spiritually or emotionally)?
What turns you off?
What sound or noise do you love?
What sound or noise do you hate?
What is your favorite curse word? Son-of-a-bitch
What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?
What profession would you not like to do?
If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?
Click through if you're on feed and vote for the draft you'd most like to see finished and posted.
Oh, and have a raining-awesome kind of weekend.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Men Would Be Nice. But No. It's Raining Time Travel Awesome.
Raise your hand if you loved Ken Grimwood's novel, Replay.
While we're on the topic of films that rain awesome, let's talk about Looper. Hate the title, but it really says it all, doesn't it? Starring Joseph Gordon Levitt of Inception fame, Looper is a sci-fi time thriller about a group of hitmen who go back in time to kill criminals before they perpetrated their crimes. Levitt calls Looper, which also stars Bruce Willis and Emily Blunt and is set to release later this year, the most important film of his career.
Oooh, oooh. Me.
Replay was published thirteen years ago, so it might have been off your radar, but it's about a man who dies (on page!) in the opening scene and gets the opportunity to return to his life as a teenager with full knowledge of the lessons and choices he made the first time around. I guess it took awhile for Hollywood to come around, too, because Warner Brothers is just now ferreting out a director for the project. And who should be at the forefront of consideration but Romert Zemeckis of Back to the Future fame. This time: less camp. Let's hope.
While we're on the topic of films that rain awesome, let's talk about Looper. Hate the title, but it really says it all, doesn't it? Starring Joseph Gordon Levitt of Inception fame, Looper is a sci-fi time thriller about a group of hitmen who go back in time to kill criminals before they perpetrated their crimes. Levitt calls Looper, which also stars Bruce Willis and Emily Blunt and is set to release later this year, the most important film of his career.One more film tidbit: Remember the "Safety Not Guaranteed" movie? They're looking for extras to fill a football stadium in Burien, Washington on May 7th. From this announcement alone, I was able to mine a MacGyver-eque YouTube video and a link to a forum where the ad's author claims it as a joke written for Backwoods Home Magazine.
But movies are not where the storm of awesome ends, dear Vortexers. More time travel, you say? I aim to please.
TweetyPop is a new app for the I-pad that lets you "time travel through Twitter space." Watch this demo if you're all up into returning to a specific time in Twitter history and zapping read tweets like the sci-fi nerd we all are here.
Is there any wonder that the most entries for the L. Ron Hubbard's speculative fiction Writers of the Future contest for the past few cycles have been time travel oriented? Um. No. Coordinating Judge K.D. Wentworth blames Hollywood, but we were on that bus miles ago, weren't we?
Finally, Michael A. Burstein speculates on reasons the Chinese government banned time travel stories from their cultural radar early last month.
Happy Monday, everyone!
Friday, April 22, 2011
Turtles
The life of a turtle is ordinary in extraordinary ways. They eat from the land, hibernate in their houses if they don't like the outside temperature or their neighbors, have young and hope vultures don't harm them. They breathe, travel, swim and dig, none of it possible unless they come out of their shells.
I have two confessions.
One, I watched a really bad Miley Cyrus movie a few weeks ago. I can't recall the title and her acting made my one attempt as Becky Sawyer's best friend in a fifth grade play look like Hamlet, but I remember her vigilance at protecting a nest of sea turtles until they hatched and made it to the sea. It was a way for the screenwriter to show us her character's true nature, because she was so over-the-top cringe-worthy most of the film. The odds of sea turtles reaching water is long. Something like ninety percent die or are killed before their journey to the surf is complete. They take a risk to reap the reward of a full life.
Two, I watched ten minutes of the Nate Berkus show today. Dr. Ruth Westheimer talked about sex and redecorating and life. Weighty topics for two segments, right? Nate had redecorated her living space and left a special place for all the turtle trinkets people had given her over the years. I vaguely remembered hearing about her commencement address a few years back, something to do with turtles. She reminded us about those sea turtles, the risks they take, the message for us all. I wanted to know more. I was ready to hear that kind of message today.
Here's an excerpt from her commencement speech to Trinity College University's Class of 2004:
My favorite animal is the turtle. The reason is that in order for the turtle to move, it has to stick its neck out. There are going to be times in your life when you’re going to have to stick your neck out. There will be challenges and instead of hiding in a shell, you have to go out and meet them. I don’t know how many of you are familiar with the Jewish word chutzpah, but it’s a word you should familiarize yourself with. To live life at its fullest you have to have the chutzpah to accept challenges. You don’t need nerves of steel. I’m not saying that sometimes you won’t be shaking in your boots after accepting some major challenge. But you can’t let that stop you. It really is better to fail than not to try, because if you never try, you’ll never succeed, and as bad as failure feels, success feels so much better.
She is a woman with eighty-four years of wisdom behind her. From humble and oppressed beginnings, she embraced life's challenges, stuck her neck out and found success. We do her a disservice to associate her exclusively with sex jokes.
And the turtles? They may hold the secret to a well-lived life.
Stick your neck out today. Try something new. Move. Dig deep. Live.
Have a great weekend, everyone!
I have two confessions.
One, I watched a really bad Miley Cyrus movie a few weeks ago. I can't recall the title and her acting made my one attempt as Becky Sawyer's best friend in a fifth grade play look like Hamlet, but I remember her vigilance at protecting a nest of sea turtles until they hatched and made it to the sea. It was a way for the screenwriter to show us her character's true nature, because she was so over-the-top cringe-worthy most of the film. The odds of sea turtles reaching water is long. Something like ninety percent die or are killed before their journey to the surf is complete. They take a risk to reap the reward of a full life.
Two, I watched ten minutes of the Nate Berkus show today. Dr. Ruth Westheimer talked about sex and redecorating and life. Weighty topics for two segments, right? Nate had redecorated her living space and left a special place for all the turtle trinkets people had given her over the years. I vaguely remembered hearing about her commencement address a few years back, something to do with turtles. She reminded us about those sea turtles, the risks they take, the message for us all. I wanted to know more. I was ready to hear that kind of message today.
Here's an excerpt from her commencement speech to Trinity College University's Class of 2004:
My favorite animal is the turtle. The reason is that in order for the turtle to move, it has to stick its neck out. There are going to be times in your life when you’re going to have to stick your neck out. There will be challenges and instead of hiding in a shell, you have to go out and meet them. I don’t know how many of you are familiar with the Jewish word chutzpah, but it’s a word you should familiarize yourself with. To live life at its fullest you have to have the chutzpah to accept challenges. You don’t need nerves of steel. I’m not saying that sometimes you won’t be shaking in your boots after accepting some major challenge. But you can’t let that stop you. It really is better to fail than not to try, because if you never try, you’ll never succeed, and as bad as failure feels, success feels so much better.
She is a woman with eighty-four years of wisdom behind her. From humble and oppressed beginnings, she embraced life's challenges, stuck her neck out and found success. We do her a disservice to associate her exclusively with sex jokes.
And the turtles? They may hold the secret to a well-lived life.
Stick your neck out today. Try something new. Move. Dig deep. Live.
Have a great weekend, everyone!
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Reset Button
It is a week of transitions, epiphanies and firsts. All involving time travel. Imagine that.
For the first time in my life, as in ever, I went to a movie alone. Not just any movie, mind you, but The Source Code. I could not have picked a better lone-virgin movie. No one saw me drool at the budding action star Jake Gyllenhaal is becoming. No one crunched popcorn in my ear and spoke at crucial turning points. No one grumbled “I don’t get it” at me while stumbling out into the blinding sunlight. No one nudged me by the elbow, a Captain Obvious, to say, “Oh. My. God. This is what you write.” The other lone-cinema guns and I strapped in for the long haul to a short conclusion: The Source Code is beyond awesome. At least by Vortex standards. It’s impossible to review this movie without spoilers, so I offer up something here that’s spoken to me this week. A reversal of sorts. From the end product to the first thread. I traced the backward journey from production to pre-production to casting to green light to screenwriter, for therein lies a map for a similar journey, not to film but to novel. And not just any novel. A great novel.
I know Hollywood and New York publishing cycles are polar. When one is up, the other is down. But time travel threads within other genres do not seem to follow this pattern. If you look at the television shows and films involving time travel in the past five years, there is a small, yet consistent presence even vampires can’t touch. I’m not sure it will ever be “over”. Too much of human nature rests on the possibility of what-might-have-been. The desire for a reset button.
I needed to read about the project in its organic form. To know that screenwriter Ben Ripley didn’t have it all figured out in the first draft, or even the fifth. I needed him to remind me to "Put character first. Don’t let the technology take over the story. Center your narrative on an emotional experience and let the science part of it be the ambiance."
It so happens this week, I’m in transition. Which project to dedicate myself to make it stellar? For a myriad of reasons, it is a difficult choice. After much thought and no conclusions, I offered it up God, angels, the universe, karma. Take your pick. I told myself I would look for a sign that would show me I was on the right track. I believe in signs. They're around us every day. We don't always pay attention. Today, like a gift, my sign came.
I’ve written about this traveling carnival before. Every April, it comes. And every May through March it is forgotten. On a road travelled infrequently, this carnival came to me today of all days, the morning after I asked for it. Ferris wheel glistening in the sun.
Here’s your sign.
For the first time in my life, as in ever, I went to a movie alone. Not just any movie, mind you, but The Source Code. I could not have picked a better lone-virgin movie. No one saw me drool at the budding action star Jake Gyllenhaal is becoming. No one crunched popcorn in my ear and spoke at crucial turning points. No one grumbled “I don’t get it” at me while stumbling out into the blinding sunlight. No one nudged me by the elbow, a Captain Obvious, to say, “Oh. My. God. This is what you write.” The other lone-cinema guns and I strapped in for the long haul to a short conclusion: The Source Code is beyond awesome. At least by Vortex standards. It’s impossible to review this movie without spoilers, so I offer up something here that’s spoken to me this week. A reversal of sorts. From the end product to the first thread. I traced the backward journey from production to pre-production to casting to green light to screenwriter, for therein lies a map for a similar journey, not to film but to novel. And not just any novel. A great novel.
I know Hollywood and New York publishing cycles are polar. When one is up, the other is down. But time travel threads within other genres do not seem to follow this pattern. If you look at the television shows and films involving time travel in the past five years, there is a small, yet consistent presence even vampires can’t touch. I’m not sure it will ever be “over”. Too much of human nature rests on the possibility of what-might-have-been. The desire for a reset button.
I needed to read about the project in its organic form. To know that screenwriter Ben Ripley didn’t have it all figured out in the first draft, or even the fifth. I needed him to remind me to "Put character first. Don’t let the technology take over the story. Center your narrative on an emotional experience and let the science part of it be the ambiance."
It so happens this week, I’m in transition. Which project to dedicate myself to make it stellar? For a myriad of reasons, it is a difficult choice. After much thought and no conclusions, I offered it up God, angels, the universe, karma. Take your pick. I told myself I would look for a sign that would show me I was on the right track. I believe in signs. They're around us every day. We don't always pay attention. Today, like a gift, my sign came.
I’ve written about this traveling carnival before. Every April, it comes. And every May through March it is forgotten. On a road travelled infrequently, this carnival came to me today of all days, the morning after I asked for it. Ferris wheel glistening in the sun.
Here’s your sign.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Wax On. Wax Nostalgic. Wax Off.
A week, I know. But what a week it's been. Remember my writing journey with my literary Mr. Miyagi? It could not have been more career-changing had Ralph Macchio tap danced on my manuscript, folded it inside a silk kimono and hand-delivered it to J.K. Rowling's agent. First learn weaknesses, then learn to laugh at own dialogue. Writing rules, L.A.-san, not Miagi's.
I also met four of the most amazing writers I want to be like when I grow up. I ate Nutella for the first time, discovered the beauty that is a Chilean hero, used a fruit bowl as a motorcycle helmet, slipped into the most delicious kind of writing vacuum and rediscovered why I write. I'm a better writer this week because of the retreat. I'm a better person for going through it with my new friends.
A call came last Sunday, my first on Thriller Island. The Night Caller is a finalist in the Mystery/Thriller/Suspense category of The Sandy contest. Nice to know the ship fares well in new waters, too.
I was oh-so-tempted to change my blog to Dynamic Views, but then where would we be? A random filmstrip-like collage of MacGyver action figures, hot physicists and John Titor? Exactly what would that say about The Vortex? That we're all about time travel and bendable heroes with mullets? Wait. That would wrong. Wouldn't it?
Have a great Monday, everyone!
I also met four of the most amazing writers I want to be like when I grow up. I ate Nutella for the first time, discovered the beauty that is a Chilean hero, used a fruit bowl as a motorcycle helmet, slipped into the most delicious kind of writing vacuum and rediscovered why I write. I'm a better writer this week because of the retreat. I'm a better person for going through it with my new friends.
A call came last Sunday, my first on Thriller Island. The Night Caller is a finalist in the Mystery/Thriller/Suspense category of The Sandy contest. Nice to know the ship fares well in new waters, too.
I was oh-so-tempted to change my blog to Dynamic Views, but then where would we be? A random filmstrip-like collage of MacGyver action figures, hot physicists and John Titor? Exactly what would that say about The Vortex? That we're all about time travel and bendable heroes with mullets? Wait. That would wrong. Wouldn't it?
Have a great Monday, everyone!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)