First Draft done

Well, I'm done.

My version of the "First Draft" of The French Inquisitor has been sent to Steven.

That's right.  I'm done.

So for the next few weeks -- until Steven is done with his edits -- I'll be working on my next writing project:  a nonfiction text I've mentioned before. 

By the time I pick up Steven's "First Draft" version, I'll have a badly needed fresh perspective. 

                       *     *     *

The good news is that my first draft came in at 135 pages, rather than 142.

That just seems like so much less.

                       *     *     *

Sir Knavely has become an important part of the writing process.

See how focused he is?

                       *     *     *

Did I mention I'm looking forward to doing NOTHING connected to the screenplay for the next few weeks?

                       *     *     *

My next writing project is Franchising Independent Girls.  That's not fiction, however.

                       *     *     *

I think the next major fiction project I'm going to pick up will be Scars of the Wind. 

In 1996 when I started writing it, I called it Mennonite Prince.

I think it's a novel.  It's too internal to be a film, at least the way it's currently being conceived.

And since my work with Steven over the next few months will focus on revision of Inquisitor, this could be a good time to begin the rough draft.

Last summer I sketched out the novel, chapter by chapter, then set it aside to do personal research. 

I think that research has been done.

                       *     *     *

It's not like it's hard for me to write.  When you aim to write 120 pages, and your really rough draft comes in at 471 pages ... well, there's a message in there somewhere.

                       *     *     *

Writing a novel would be a very different form than the screenplay.  A screenplay is a blueprint for a film.  It's not a literary document.

Granted, both are based on a powerful story (or at least that's your goal), but the novel is a very different reading experience.

Movie executives don't read screenplays because they love to read.  They like to make movies.  And you have to read screenplays in order to find a good movie to make.

In fact, executives have built up an elaborate system that helps them avoid reading very much.  They have servants (readers) whose job it is to read the shit, so that by the time a screenplay reaches them, it's got a fairly good chance of at least being palatable.

Thus, as a screenwriter, you write for people who hate to read.

                       *     *     *

A novelist knows that his audience -- made up of bookworms -- LOVES to read.  His audience loves curling up in bed on a rainy afternoon (assuming they DON'T live in LA, where not much rain happens) and getting lost in a world of words and imagination.

A screenwriter knows that his audience is trying to stay awake in bed long enough to get through your $@Q*666 screenplay.  They'd love to find an excuse to put it down.  Pass out the Ritalin, folks.

Movie executives would much rather have a power lunch than read your screenplay.

A bookworm would much rather skip lunch to go read a good book.

One more proofread coming up

I'm tired.  Exhausted, really.

It's about 4:30 AM here.  PST.

But I've cut the script to my stated goal.

                       *     *     *

The last 2/5 of the script now sits at 48 pages.

I started with 138 pages of rough draft.

I cut 90 pages away.

                       *     *     *

Altogether, I wrote 471 pages for the first draft. 

I cut that to 135 pages.

Once Steven is done with his edits, we'll cut the first readable draft to 119 pages. 

                       *     *     *

I worry, you know.  In making my cuts, I hope I've thrown out the skim milk and kept the cream.  Panned away the rocks and saved the gold. 

Go ahead.  Make up another metaphor.  I dare you.  Am I being silly?

                       *     *     *

A friend once told me how Michelangelo created the David.

He started with a big hunk of marble.

He chipped everything away that wasn't the David.

                       *     *     *

Today, after sleeping, I do a final proofread.

Then email the result to my writing partner.

                       *     *     *

Sandra is taking me to a church called Agape here in LA.  She claims I'll love it.

I think she's just trying to hook me up with one of the women she's met there. 

Sneaky woman, that Sandra.  Good friend.

She says people who go there are smart, talented, and creative.  Not afraid to express themselves emotionally.

A blend of theologies with a Pentecostal surface.

Sandra's Jewish, and she felt completely comfortable. 

                       *     *     *

"Your creativity," my friend Sandra told me,  "comes out of your spirituality."

                       *     *     *

I'm listening to music of the 80s on AOL radio.  Great stuff.  The music, that is.

                       *     *     *

My thoughts now bend towards home.  I fly out of LAX on Wednesday, July 27.

I'll be attending my parents' 50th anniversary celebration.

Sunday, July 31, from 2:30 - 4:30 PM at my alma mater:  Hartville Christian School.

                       *     *     *

One more job before I pack.

I've got to get my tax stuff to David, my accountant.

Yeah.  I've been avoiding this.

But there's an August 15 deadline that all tax procrastinators know.

I have to send out the stuff to David before I fly out tomorrow.

                       *     *     *

I'm making plans to connect with old friends while I'm in North Canton.

By the way, if you're free at 6 PM on Monday, August 1, email me. 

I'd love to see you. 

I'll send you directions to a little get-together my producer, Dick Gotschall, is throwing.  I would be honored to see any of my friends who choose to show up.

Especially if I haven't seen you for a long time.

                       *     *     *

I won't get much sleep the first night I arrive in Ohio.  Not just because I'm on my own time schedule. 

I'm hanging out with Anneliis in Kent.  She's just returned from eight weeks of studying art and language in Italy.  And she's wired.  I can tell.

She'll have some stories. 

If you want to know what her trip was like, take a look at Liv Tyler's role in the film Stealing Beauty.

                       *     *     *

I'm preparing to write my second project this summer:  Franchising Independent Girls.

Girls will contain my personal teaching philosophy:  I'm a coach who happens to be a teacher. 

Lots of personal stories.  20 years of teaching students how to lead.  Yearbook.  Drama.  Student store.

Coaches build skills.  Inculcate character.  Develop life-long relationships.

A coach who can teach?  Kids will tell you it's rare.  And they'll sign up in droves.

                       *     *     *

The finest coaches learn the secret to coaching early in their careers. 

I learned it from the best in 1993.  Big Red.  Steubenville, Ohio. 

Franchising Independent Girls will pass on that secret.  The way I was taught it down in the Ohio River Valley.

And if this bores you, you're reading the wrong blog.

                       *     *     *

Speaking of mentors...

I spent some time today with Jim Bellows.  At 82, he's still going strong. 

He's already a great friend.

I kept running into him walking his dog:  Blanco.  She's a smart, intelligent dog..

We enjoyed talking, so I finally got his telephone number.  We got together for a drink yesterday.

He tells good stories from his days as a navy pilot in WWII. 

He signed for me a copy of his new book:  The Last Editor:  How I Saved The New York Times, the Washington Post, and the Los Angeles Times from Dullness and Complacency (see link).

                       *     *     *

Know why I value Mr. Bellows?

Because he understands how to be a teacher.  How to be a mentor.  And he's honored to fill that role in others' lives.

I hope that when I'm his age, I'm still doing that.

Fourth pass

Even Sir looks exhausted.

                        *     *     *

Another pass through the script.

I'm at 66 pages.  I was able to cut six pages this time around.

It didn't help that I added another scene.

At least each pass takes less time.

                        *     *     *

My goal is to have it the last 48 pages of the rough draft to my co-writer before I leave for Ohio on Wednesday afternoon.

Then it's his problem.

Of course, I can't wait until he's done.

                        *     *     *

Last night, after Sandra and I had dinner and saw the Channel 101 viewing, we drove into Santa Monica to catch a 10:30 PM showing of The Wedding Crashers.

How many times did I look over at Sandra, only to catch her with a gigantic grin on her face?  Probably matched only by my own.

Will Ferrel's uncredited role was also a hoot.

Very funny movie. 

                        *     *     *

So it's off for a workout, breakfast, and another read of the script, this time as Starbucks.

It's not like I have a choice.  Tick-tock! 

Third Pass

It's after 6 AM.

I've just finished the third pass through the script.

I'm at 73 pages.  That means 17 pages cut this round.

65 pages cut so far.

The script feels leaner.  The story is cleaner.

25 more pages to cut.

                          *     *     *

I watched Billy Bob Thornton's The Bad News Bears in Westwood last night.  Very funny movie.  I laughed a lot.

If you liked Bad Santa, you should definitely see this film.

                          *     *     *

I'm about ready to hit the sack.  After I sleep, I'll go have breakfast at the 50s Cafe.  And decide what I cut next.

I plan to have this to Steven before I head for Ohio.

Yeah!

Second pass

Sir Knavely has become an important part of the writing ritual. 

As I write, he stretches out on the small table to my left. 

He watches me.  Or sleeps.  Mostly sleeps.

                        *     *     *

The second pass is finished.

I've cut 48 pages so far.  23 pages cut on this pass.  I'm down to 90 pages.  I have 42 more pages to cut in order to reach my Final Goal:  48 pages of prime screenplay material.

Deadline:  Wednesday afternoon.  It's when I fly out of LAX to visit my family in Ohio. 

At that point, I'll be done with my work on the first draft.  It will be in Steven's capable hands.

But it's still too bloody hot in this apartment.

                        *     *     *

I've decided that it's time to take a break tonight. 

Watch a movie in the theatre. 

Eat at my favorite restaurant.

                        *     *     *

Tomorrow night Hollywood Steve will host Yacht Rock again in its second episode for Channel 101.

Sandra and I are going.

Anyone who can come out, please do.  Catch the link on the right if you wish to attend.

It's great fun.  And don't forget to vote.

First pass complete

YES!

This is one of the happier times of my life.

I've finished my first pass through the last part of the rough draft.  Talk about pain.

But now it's done.  Ready for my second pass.  Which should be much easier.

                      *     *     *

So to celebrate, I thought I'd put up a picture of my friend Kim.  I'll explain why in a moment.

The picture to the left was taken of us standing in the sand on the Santa Monica boardwalk.  Photographer:  Mike Melin, Kim's husband.  They were visiting in March 2003.

                      *     *     *

But first, let me do the numbers.

So I've just finished my first pass through the script.  At least 25 hours of work.

It's gone from 138 to 113 pages.  25 pages of obvious flab eliminated.  Bad dialogue.  Unnecessary description.  Bad stories told.

Just think.  Only another nine passes to go. 

And then it goes to my co-writer for his revisions.

                      *     *     *

I thought I'd share the most meaningful analysis of the writing process that I've read in the last year.  It's an excerpt from Secrets if Film Writing by Tom Lazarus (the screenwriter who wrote Stigmata).

"Your rough draft is one giant step along the way.  Getting it down on paper is the toughest part and you're there.  After that, the rewriting is the true fun.  To make it better every time you touch it, to make it closer and closer to the idealized script you have in your mind, is pure pleasure.

"I've learned over the years to tune into myself as I read, to listen to the music of my screenplay to see what is off pitch.  Now, after you've given it a respectful read, tear that puppy apart.

"Change scenes....

"Make the dialogue sound better to your ear....

"Make the characters richer....

"Deeper....

"Crank everything up.

"Maximize the minimum you have there.

"The best analogy of rewriting I know is creating a sculpture.  The sculptor starts with a big raw piece of marble.  The sculptor's job is to find the sculpture in the raw stone, just as your job is to find the final script in the raw pages of your rough draft.

"In both the sculptor's and writer's process, what is called for is clarifying, polishing, bringing it out and maximizing the idea into its final reality.

"Rewriting is the literary equivalent of the process that takes a film rough cut and edits it into the fine cut.

"It's the sophistication of the product.

"When you finally trim away or change the passages that don't make sense, that are out of place, that don't sound right, emotionally, in any way, then you'll be finished...but not done.

"At this point in my writing, I still do up to ten passes to get to a revised rough draft.

"I'll send it out for new comments, from different, fresh readers, then rewrite again."

                      *     *     *

About Kim and Mike.  I talked to Kim yesterday.  We made plans to do something -- the three of us -- when I go back to Ohio.

It's been almost a year since I last saw them.

And best of all, Kim and Mike are preggers.

                      *     *     *

There's another reason I'm thinking about Kim and Mike this morning. 

They were among the first few friends I told about The French Inquisitor, back in April of 2000 when I first conceived the story.

Kim may be pregnant with a baby now, but I'm pretty damn close to delivery of this story in the form of a screenplay.

Wouldn't it be cool if we both delivered our "baby" about the same time.  Kim's baby to a delivery room in Canton, Ohio by way of a hospital.  Steven & Steven's script to a major studio by way of an agent.

Hey.  One can dream.

                      *     *     *

One advantage the Melin baby has, however.  Kim and Mike know where they're bringing their child home to live.

We still have no idea where The French Inquisitor will finally find a home.  

Let's hope the agent (who doesn't know yet that he wants to work with us) has a lot of good leads on a buyer for our script (who hasn't yet heard about the potential Oscar winner).

As the annoying producer says in Robert DeNiro's Guilty by Suspicion, "We're gonna walk down the aisle together.  All the way to the Oscar."

Course, there was no Oscar to be found there.  Not even a directing job.  Hint:  see the movie.  It'll make sense.  I promise.

You know you want it, Weinstein Brothers.  Come on, Harvey.  Don't be shy.

First Draft

Lately, this blog has taken second place to the work of writing the screenplay.  Or maybe I was just distracted.  Who knows?

                         *     *     *

Drum roll.

I finally finished the first draft of the screenplay.

Yep.  Sunday morning, July 17, at 4:20 AM.

                         *     *     *

My aunt wrote me today.  Her book has been published.  Second Wife:  Stories and Wisdom from Women Who Have Married Widowers by Martha Stahl.

The book signing that my aunt described sounded larger than the one they had for S.E. Hinton (The Outsiders) here at Dutton's in Brentwood.

I'm providing a link to Good Books, where you can purchase the book.  Just go to the site, search for Martha Stahl, and a description of the book pops up.

                         *     *     *

Steven & Steven.

Good name for a screenwriting team, huh?  You can address me by either name.

I don't mind.

                         *     *     *

Did I mention that I'm heading home to Ohio for a week?  I fly out of Los Angeles on July 27.  I hang with my family.  See old friends.  Even some new ones.  Then I fly back to Los Angeles on August 2.

                         *     *     *

Strange dream last night.  Can't forget it. 

I was taking possession of a beautiful house.  A fixer-upper.  Fantastic, ancient architecture.  Like out of a house in the Anne Rice novel, The Witching Hour.  The mansion must have been in LA, because as I was coming out of the dream, I realized that in order to buy a house that large -- with lawns that large -- I would need many millions of dollars.

Or a very large bank loan.  And I don't have that kind of money or mortgage credit.

Yet.

                        *     *     *

Yeah, okay.  So I kind of finished the screenplay.  Let me explain.

You already know that I'm currently writing the last 2/5 of the screenplay and that my co-writer is revising the first 3/5 of the screenplay?  Yeah, I'd like to forget it too.  But the fact remains that I wrote 233 pages over spring break and then slowly whittled them down to 94.  And I was only 3/5 done.

The last 2/5 of the screenplay added an additional 138 pages.  Now I need to trim those pages to 50 before I can give my first draft pages to Steven and call my work on the first draft done.

This means there are hours of revision coming up.  At least ten passes through the script.  At least, it took me that long to trim the first 233 pages.

                        *     *     *

I've already started the first pass.

I went to the 50s Cafe on Santa Monica and Barrington, parked myself down at the counter, and stayed there until I had read through the script.  Made extensive notes.

The first read-through is always murder.  My mentor and friend Walt Walker tells me that's a good sign.  I bloody well hope so.

                        *     *     *

My close friends -- those whom I call regularly -- have been asking me what the next step is in finishing the screenplay.  So here's a kind-of-projected-like schedule..

Once Steven and I revise the screenplay -- hopefullybringing it in at 119 pages -- we'll send it out to a select group of readers.

                        *     *     *

Our First Polished Draft.

We wait for our readers to respond.  Once the reactions come back, we take whatever time we need to process the comments.  We make sure we understand the problems they point out. 

After we figure out solutions to those problems, we divide up the work.  Make the changes.  Polish it off together. 

If we pull this off by the end of August, we'll be lucky.

                        *     *     *

Our Second Polished Draft. 

We cast a reading, using the most talented actors we know.  People who can be bribed with simple/complex flattery, good/bad pizza, and simple/complex spirits.  And we listen. 

During and after the reading, we solicit comments from our actors.  What worked?  What didn't?  Afterwards, the two of us do a lot of talking.  Process everything.  Once we're comfortable with what we've taken in, we revise the second draft.  Polish it.

If we finish this step by the end of September, we'll be happy.

                        *     *     *

Our Third Polished Draft.

We run copies on quality paper.  And we begin the next screenplay -- a low-budget piece that can be shot for the cost of the digital camera rental.

We then discuss every agent we know.  Draw up a list.  Decide whom we should solicit.  Make plans to beg and sell parts of our souls.  Call it what you want -- we go after an agent in the most creative manner possible.

Going after an agent is sorta like...dating.  Or at least going out to clubs to find women to date.  Or maybe it's  like applying for a job.

No.  The Dating-analogy-leading-to-marriage Thingie is better.  After all, once you find an agent who wants you, there are certain legal documents you must obtain.  Lawyers are involved.  Money is key.  And if you ever want to leave your agent, there's emotional abuse.  Another lawyer.

As I was saying, finding, securing, and working with an agent is just like the old-fashioned courtship process.  And it helps if every agent in Hollywood thinks you're hot.  Which we are.  With us, the agent will get two writers for the price of one.  It's one of the advantages of a writing partnership.

Hopefully, our infatuation with the agent we want will be mutual.

                        *     *     *

As Johnny Depp says in Pirates of the Caribbean, I'm having a thought here.

I've lived with The French Inquisitor ever since it was conceived in April of 2000.  Teaming up with Steven Huey as my co-writer was the right choice.  Not just anyone could help bring about the birth of this story. 

And I'm still completely in love with my story.  It moves me on a most profound level.  I like that.

Somebody Should Play Silent Night

Once

In another life

when I attended

Malone College

I edited the campus newspaper.

 

One night

I couldn't think of what to say in my editorial.

So

I went to

Bob's Big Boy on Rt. 62.

I sat.  

Drank coffee.

Wrote down my thoughts.

Substituted those thoughts for my editorial.

 

                               *     *    *

 

People seemed to prefer the poem to my usual pendantic editorials.

 

                               *     *    *

 

Today's terrorist attacks in London made me remember 1988.  The year I spent studying there.

 

That year changed my life.

 

When I got the news this morning, I decided to post this poem.

 

                               *     *    *

 

Someone Should Play Silent Night

By Steven L. Denlinger

 

I sit alone in an all-night restaurant,

Listening to “Jingle Bells” playing on the radio somewhere above me,

Thinking about world peace,

              exams,

              nuclear holocaust.

 

I listen to the waitress tell me,

Her eyes big (she only graduated from high school last year)

About two men in front of the restaurant that scare her.

The Navy owes her brother-in-law $3,000.  Probably $5,000.

And now he’s sick.

 

World peace is an illusion.

It will never happen.

I wonder if they turned off the lights on the Christmas tree in the student center.

Is is dark now? Earlier it was lit.

The security guard probably turned it off.

 

“What a shame,” the angels said. “Man will probably push the button.

Too bad.

He should have listened to that song we sang those greasy shepherds.”

 

The world is going to hell.

And people don’t care.

              I sit here.

              God cares.

              A nuclear bomb doesn’t.

I wonder what a dead Nicaraguan looks like.

How many bullet holes are in him?

Is he bleeding?  Are his guts blown all over the ground?

Crimson blood on dry brown earth.

Like it was when men killed Jesus.

Only they cleaned up the mess afterwards.

 

Doesn’t Jesus care?

But he wants us to kill our enemies to make the world

              Crimson, white, and blue for democracy.

What did you say, Mrs. Robinson?

Oh well, the flag is still safe.

You know, if they issued the war today, I’d probably have to wait

              ‘til next week to fight.

I’ve got exams - you know how it is.

 

I wish they would play “Silent Night” occasionally on the radio.

 

                                                                              December 17, 1987

                                                                              Canton, Ohio

Those Color Photos

Memories.

 

Funny thing.

 

You think you're writing about two characters in a screenplay.

 

But then you realize.

 

Life comes out in a funny way.

 

          *     *     *

 

Those Color Photos

By Steven L. Denlinger

 

You lured me into bed last night

Dragged me back into the vortex

            of our past.

 

Did it hurt for you too, baby?

 

What am I doing here again?

Watching us here in my head,

Sitting on the edge of the bed

Trying to blend

            the ripped pieces of Then

            with the reality of

            Now.

And feeling my fingertips get sliced off one by one.

 

Could I still play the keyboard even if I wanted to?

 

Maybe you wanted it that way.

Maybe you tried to clean out the photo album,

            tear it all to shreds.

 

Did you plan to destroy everything but the box of negatives?

 

I wish I still had them,
            those color photos.

Writing...

Wow!

Once I did my research.  Once I figured out where I needed to go.  Once I got my sleep.  I rolled out 19 pages in a couple of hours. 

Starting from the treatment.  Ending with the three scenes written.

Granted.  Anne Lamott talks about the first shitty draft.  Well. 

Those 19 pages make up a very rough, shitty draft of those three scenes.

But at least I got through them.

                         *     *     *

I just watched the Mike Nichols film Wolf.  Again.  Have I seen that film ten times? 

It's not a great film, by any critic's count.  But it's great soul food.

                         *     *     *

Playing this jazz station as I write has turned into a very good choice.

Writing has actually helped me learn to like country.  And jazz.

                         *     *     *

I've added Channel 101 to my list of favorite sites. 

Okay, so it's the only favorite site I have listed.  Yet.

Hollywood Steve, my co-writer, stars in one of the prime time shows this month:  Yacht Rock.

Funny guy, Hollywood Steve.  Worth watching.

Writer's block

Been struggling with a case of writer's block.

It's medieval times.  I'm in the midst of an Inquisition scene. 

But when I got to the torture, I shut down. 

I can't get inside the head of an Inquisitor.

One who believes  1) that he's a good person; and 2) that extreme torture is acceptable. 

Christian, even.

How do you get there?

In your head.

                        *     *     * 

I watched three movies today. 

Fried Green Tomatoes was unexpectedly powerful and moving.  A friend strongly recommended it.  Glad she did.  The death scene was emotional.

Le Chorus was an effective teacher education film.  The hero's nickname among the boys was Chrome Dome.  LOL!

Reese Witherspoon's The Man in the Moon.  A lovely coming-of-age tragedy.  Two sisters fall in love with the same boy...

                        *     *     * 

Writer's block.

Conversation helps.

Research works best.

Highroad to the Stake: A Tale of Witchcraft.  Originally written in German.   Michael Kunze.  1987.

Hardest battle? 

Again.  How do you conclude that extreme torture is just?

A confession is meaningless under torture.  Right?  People say anything.

Tell the American government that.

                        *     *     * 

You've heard this one.

You uncover a terrorist plot to detonate a nuclear bomb in DC. 

Just in time, you capture a suspect. 

He won't talk.  Won't reveal where the bomb is.  Who's going to detonate it. 

Is it okay to torture him?

Damn straight.

You'll save millions of lives.  Not to mention, keep the real estate market viable in the Maryland area.

                        *     *     * 

Now we're getting closer.

People in medieval times also fought an invisible foe. 

Lucifer.  The Devil.  Satan.

An implacable, evil enemy whose goal is to destroy you.  And your soul. 

Send you to hell where you'll roast in flames for eternity.

That's evil.

Just like Osama bin Laden.

                        *     *     * 

In 2002, the CIA flew a terrorist suspect to Egypt to have him tortured.  True fact.

We're still outsourcing the really nasty work. 

America doesn't yet admit that torture is acceptable.

Give it time. 

Any empire is difficult to protect. 

Hmm.

                        *     *     * 

America's War on Terror.  Today.

Rome's War on the Devil.  Medieval times. 

The parallels are chilling.

Both enemies invisible. 

Both enemies force men to conclude that it's okay to use extreme torture.

To extract information that will save millions of lives. 

Torture methods previously deemed horrific.

                        *     *     * 

Give it time.

                        *     *     * 

Funny.

I can write again.