Oscar Party: the non-charity type

Okay.  Don't go thinking this is the same pic as you found in an earlier entry. 

Notice Sir Knavely's eyes.  That's all I'm going to say.  

So.  Real News.  I'm throwing a little Oscar Party (the gold statue-type, not the hot-dog type) tomorrow evening.   

This is going to be a small party.  Simple.  The bring-your-own-edibles type.  I know for sure that my co-writer Steven Huey will be here, along with several of his dogs (human friends, not canine).  I think my television set will be working by then.   

You know those people who spend $250 to go find entertainment at a Looking for Robert DeNiro Party in West Hollywood (which will raise money for important charity causes)?  Well, this is definitely not the party for them. 

No stars other than Hollywood Steve will be attending ... as far as I know.  

Okay.  The basics.  Party starts at 5 PM.  I'm telling everyone that they should plan to be late.  Please.   The party is in my studio apartment.  

When we eat, we'll probably spill out on the deck, especially if Hollywood Steve gets to grillin'!  

The party will officially end when we find out which movie takes home the Little Golden Homunculus.  This is a dress-down party, but I've told my guests to feel free to dress up as much as they wish.  They won't.   

If you wonder why this party invitation is last-minute, please don't.  It's a waste of time.  I got involved emotionally ... with my grades, that is, and now I've been writing all these grades, see, and well ... be sympathetic.  (When are teachers ever in a good mood about writing grades?)  

But hey, by tomorrow, I'll have most of my grades written.  I'll be ready to party.  I'm aiming to have a casual, relaxing time where the point is to get together and talk ... and maybe stop occasionally to hear a joke by Chris Rock.  Oh yeah.  And notice when someone we like gets an award.

Actually, based on last year's party, Hollywood Steve will be keeping score, and we'll have bets.  So yeah, I guess we'll have to watch who's winning too.   So.  I've told people that if they're still reading this odd invitation, and they'd still like to come, they should call me ASAP.  I'm in the midst of grading papers, and I'd love the break. 

We'll then figure out what goodies each of them should bring, what the directions are to my little studio apartment ... the routine.  

We'll see who shows up.  Maybe a homunculus.  Or a Golem.  This could be interesting. 

My parties always surprise me.  They're always bigger than I plan them to be, and interesting people always show up.  As I said, we'll see.

Recommendation

One of my clients wrote a lovely rec for the nascent firm of Steven & Steven, Story Consult-ants. 

Shameless of me, I know, but I decided to publish it here:

 

Dear Sir/Madam:

 

It is my distinct pleasure to write this letter of recommendation for the editorial team of Steven Denlinger and Steven Huey, with whom I have worked for the past ten months to shape and strengthen my historical romance novel, The Devil's Bargain.  As writing mentors, editors, and proofreaders, this team has provided invaluable support and inspiration to me as an author.

 

When I first began working with Steven and Steven, I had a first-draft manuscript that contained the rudiments of plot and setting, but was weak on character, motivation, conflict, and theme.  The two Stevens worked constructively to provide suggestions that fed my own creative process without being dictatorial, while always respecting me as the author and primary creative force behind the work.  With their thoughtful input on the story concept and structure, I was able to strengthen dramatically the novel and successfully address the weaknesses described above. 

 

When I was fully satisfied with the overall story, the two Stevens turned their attention to helping me polish paragraphs, sentences and descriptive phrases to a high luster.  As a last step, a thorough proofreading removed redundancies, strengthened individual word choices, and eliminated those easy-to-miss typographical errors that can easily relegate a manuscript to the rejection pile.  The final result was a novel that critics have said transcends its genre, and for whose publication prospects I now have high hopes.

 

The two Stevens have a special gift for nurturing the talents of the novice writer, helping him or her develop a unique and powerful voice without imposing their own personal tastes upon the process.  This development of a powerful and unique writing voice is essential to making a writer stand out in a crowded field and accomplishing that difficult leap from amateur to professional.  Their growing experience and network of connections in the entertainment industry are additional assets.

 

I would recommend with enthusiasm the editorial team of Steven Denlinger and Steven Huey to any writer who seeks to bring his or her writing to the next level and achieve professional success.  I look forward to continuing my own productive and highly rewarding collaboration with them for many years to come.

 

Sincerely,

 

Xenia Navarre

Romance Writer  

 

If you're curious about Xenia Navarre's work, please visit her website at

www.XeniaNavarre.com

The X Files

Tonight, I got through the first four episodes of the third season of The X Files.  I'm watching it on DVD.

I'm surprised at how much these characters have grown on me.  I especially liked the death and resurrection of Fox Mulder.  The Indian connection was very cool.

Last night, I watched Hitchcock's Strangers on a Train.  Very cool cameo by the director.

Hitchcock's nightmare -- being accused of a crime he hadn't committed -- really puts teeth into this film.

I'm using Roger Ebert's The Great Movies II as a sort of graduate film course.  Armed with the power of Netflix and Blockbuster memberships, I read his review of a film, then watch it on DVD, and then read the same review again afterwards.  I know this learning system works, because I used it when his first book came out.

The Year of My Birth

I just saw Sydney Poitier's film Lilies of the Field.  I honestly can't figure out how it survived the studio system in 1963, the year in which I was born.  It's got none of the typical requisites.  It's a rather thin plot.  There's no romance ... and I suspect there was when the screenplay was first written. 

Perhaps my ability to read subtext is subpar, but I cannot understand why Poitier's character takes the actions he does.  He stays to help the nuns build a chapel ... for WHAT reason?  He tolerates the unkind actions of the Prioress ... for what reason?  Because he's a masochist at heart?

The only thing I really liked about the film was the faith theme:  that carried a real payoff.  Unfortunately, the lack of complexity in the music (an a cappella version of the black spiritual, "Amen") was annoying even to me.

But hey, Poitier got an Oscar nom because of the role, so it must be a good film, right?

Am I angry?  Hmm.  Am I?  I don't know.  I'll figure it out and let you know what I eventually think.  Do I feel betrayed by the Oscar stamp of approval?  Yes, I think so. 

Perhaps what makes me so mad is the politics behind the film:  no, we can't let Sydney fall in love with a white girl, so we'll do the film without the necessary love motivation.

The racism in the film is fairly obvious now, but back then, I suppose, it was a real feather in the cap of Poitier.  Did the racism in society prevent the writers from telling the real story?  Maybe that's what annoys me. 

And I know people who would love this film.  That's scary.

An Act of Food

Today, my students handed in a major paper.  I celebrated their success with a simple gift:  an ice cream treat.  They were grateful.

I'm not sure why an act that basic is meaningful, but it is.  My belief stems from the experience that led me to Los Angeles in August 2001.

While I was on vacation, I got pulled into a job interview.  They offered me a contract.  Everything looked positive:  I liked the interview, I liked the administration, I liked the school, I liked the location ... but still ....  Something was missing.

You don't leave a tenured position and move all the way across the continent to California -- not unless you're crazy, or very certain.

What made me very certain was an Act of Food.

On my way out of Los Angeles, I stopped at the front office to pick up my contract offer.  They told me to wait:  the Dean of Students was on his way down to see me.  Something important.

When he arrived, he was carrying a paper plate with a simple lunch: a sandwich and a bag of chips and a bottle of water.  He didn't want me to get hungry on the way to the airport:  he knew I was too busy to stop for lunch.

I was touched.  This must be a good place to work, I thought.

And so I moved to California.

Steady as she goes

I just watched Quentin Tarantino's Reservoir Dogs on DVD.  A postmodern Hamlet, so to speak, at least in terms of the number of dead bodies strewn all over the stage at the end.  I kept running into the title in my reading (the fact that I'm reading Sharon Waxman's book Rebels on the Backlot about the rise of the independent film might have something to do with that; she points to Tarantino as one of the primary influences on film in the 90s) so I finally decided I'd better see it.  What a violent, disturbing film.  I can definitely see it as an antecedent to Pulp Fiction.

I'm also reading Roger Ebert's new book of film reviews: The Great Movies II.  I really like his approach to film.  Reading a review and then watching the film and then reading his review again has proved to be really helpful to prying open a new perspective.

Our screenplay The French Inquisitor inches along.  So many decisions.  Yesterday, Steven and I made plans.  He will write an expanded treatment exploring character motivations in each scene (which will be approximately as long as the screenplay itself), after which I will write the first draft of the screenplay, after which he will overwrite the dialogue (since I tend to write too much subtext into the dialogue).  While he's writing the expanded treatment, I will begin developing our next screenplay or television pilot, the only stipulation being that it must be conceived as a low budget production.

I feel very good about the process, and about the work we are doing.  It's slow going, but it's going to be worth it.  We rushed our first play, A Tale of Two Cities, and then we ended up in endless rewrites.  This time, we're building a  structure that is solid from the ground up.  The good news is that our readers report they were "engrossed" by the treatment. 

McKee's process really works.  He advises waiting until your listener remains hooked all the way through a telling of the story before moving on to an expanded treatment and screenplay.  I'm glad we did just that.

I've pretty much concluded that those who survive and succeed in Los Angeles have to work more than one job at once.  I'm not just teaching: I also play the role of story consultant, English tutor, and research assistant.

Thank god that I love teaching as much as I do.  It's such a pleasure to go to school and interact with kids who are so grateful.  This isn't what people expect to hear about the life of a teacher, based on the media's perception of teachers, but it is my experience.  Perhaps it's because I've stubbornly chosen to teach where I want, rather than where I should retire.  I've taken major risks, both personal (like coming to LA when I should have been sitting on a tenured job in Ohio) and financial... in order to do what I really want to do.  And the result?  A great deal of joy for me in the classroom.

I've decided to remain at the seventh-grade level next year.  I have my objectives down, I have freedom to change my class scope and sequence as I see fit, my kids seem to love my classes, I maximize my output.  And, most important, I'm not bored -- even though I'm in my fourth year of teaching the same class.  Go figure.  And my familiarity with the course means that I minimize preparation and gain maximum output: thus, I have the time outside of school to write.  Not to mention, watching a myriad number of movies and TV episodes on DVD as I train myself for the next stage of my directing career.

I'll know when it's time to take that next step.  Not yet.  Right now I'm spending lots of time alone, reading, absorbing, preparing.

Sir Knavely is beginning to adjust to my life as a writer.  As I watch movies, he stretches out on the couch in front of me, his long, lean body at peace, fur ruffled nicely, occasionally talking to himself (or to me, I can't quite tell).  Tonight I discovered on the internet that his name was used by Christopher Marlowe in Act IV of his play, The Jew of Malta.  So whadda ya know!  He's got a literary name.  What a noble cat he is.  A kingly Tom.