It is official: I love the laurel…or at least this one.
Finalist in the animated feature category for my screenplay Tank’s.
For more about Tank’s, see:
It is official: I love the laurel…or at least this one.
Finalist in the animated feature category for my screenplay Tank’s.
For more about Tank’s, see:
I love what I do.
I love writing. I love coming up with new ideas to write. I love helping other people put their ideas into words and then into action.
This is why I struggle with one of the shorter words in the English language: No.
Hello, my name is Randy, and I am addicted to new projects.
There was a time when my inability to tell people no stemmed from my fear of letting them down. Or more accurately, my fear of them never asking again and my value as a person being reduced to zero.
Not so now, luckily. Now, I find my value internally. I am, therefore I have value.
Interestingly, though, I still struggle to say no. But now, it’s a curse of enthusiasm and confidence, now fear and self-loathing.
And to complicate things further, that same enthusiasm and confidence attracts people who are more timid in one or both. People with ideas but lack voice, or with voice but lack means.
I am glad that they see me as a vector through which to explore and advance their visions. At the same time, I have to remember that my bandwidth is limited. It is less the hours in a day and more the daily ration of creative energy that limits me.
(BTW, this is why I don’t upbraid myself for spending hours on the computer or playing Solitaire. That is my period of recharge.)
At some point, I have to limit my involvement in others’ works. I have to save enough space for my paying gigs, lest I be hungry and homeless, and for my creative projects, lest I be frustrated and unhappy.
I have to say “No”.
You recently published a book and want to turn it into a screenplay? Great!
You’ve got an idea for a comedy sketch event? Fantastic!
I came up with another great concept for a movie? Congratulations! (Yes, even I drain my batteries.)
I’m not saying I won’t help, but don’t take it personally if I limit my involvement. It is not a reflection on you or your idea but rather on me and my limitations.
Today, I can work with you. Tomorrow, I may only be able to listen to you. The next day, I may not even be able to do that.
Oh, and I’ll do my best to recognize and respect those same boundaries in your life.
No doesn’t mean your idea sucks. No doesn’t mean I never want to work with you. No simply means I can’t, not right now, no matter how much I might want to. There are shades of No.
I can’t because I already have plenty on my plate. I can’t because I have to keep myself a priority. I can’t simply because I can’t.
But I wish you all the best in your efforts.
In a slightly unrelated brain fart, the concept of No reminded me of one of my favourite revelations from the movie Yellow Submarine, the animated Beatles film.
Early in the film, as the forces of evil are over-taking Pepperland, a ballistic glove called Glove chases people and smashes things with his giant fist, including the letters in the giant Technicolor word “KNOW”. First, he smashes the K to make the word “NOW”. He then smashes the W to make the word “NO”, which becomes black-and-white.
Late in the movie, when the Beatles—disguised as Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band—lead the people’s revolt to reclaim their land, the smashed letters reverse and become colour again.
What surprised me was that having watched the film at least a dozen times before, it wasn’t until late in my “adulthood” that I realized the message embedded within the two events.
Consider my mind blown!
In her weekly blog Why The Face, my friend Marsha Mason (more “Hey, there!” than Goodbye Girl) hits briefly on two topics of particular angst in new screenwriters: camera directions and over-written action sequences.
For me, both of these come down to the same issue: the screenwriter’s need to choreograph his or her story so that the reader “sees” the movie as the screenwriter “sees” it.
Below, with permission, I have reproduced Marsha’s original post and my comments on it.
There are two things I’ve noticed of late in a number of the scripts I’ve been reading that you really don’t need to do. They’re small things, but they can wind up pulling the reader out of your script, when what you really want is them sucked into your story.
1) Camera directions: leave them out. When someone falls in love with your script, the director that attaches to it will be the one to figure out what camera angles they’ll use and when.
And…
2) Detailed descriptions of fight sequences/car chases/long physical comedy bits: once someone falls in love with your script, there will be stunt choreographers, fight directors, and your star actor/comedian, people whose specialty it is to design these sequences for the production, based on the needs/wants of the director/producer/star.
A better idea is to describe the feeling and the tone so the reader knows what you’re aiming for, rather than going on for a page or more. Ie “An epic car chase ensues. More Seth Rogen behind the wheel than Al Unser Jr., it goes for blocks, barely missing nuns and orphaned children.”
Essence of, then right back into your story.
My comments:
Couldn’t agree more. Too many people feel they have to direct their screenplay to ensure the reader “sees” what they “saw” in writing it.
In a few screenplays I read recently, the writer went to great lengths to choreograph fight scenes, offering the minutiae of balletic movements.
“Raising his knee, he blocks X’s kick, and then twirls to chop X across the back of the neck. Stunned by the blow, X falls forward but recovers quickly enough to tuck and roll back to his feet. Etc. Etc. Etc.”
A fight sequence should have a sense of energy, urgency. These are people struggling. You want that to play out emotionally. You want the reader to break out in a sweat, his or her pulse elevating while reading the scene.
Instead, you slow down the reading with lengthy descriptions. The reader has to wade through line after line of description.
As Marsha describes, you can offer the fight in broader strokes to elicit feeling or tone.
Alternatively, you can present a sequence in short, staccato phrases and sentences. It is like having 20 hockey players firing pucks at you, at will. You become powerless in the onslaught, never precisely sure from where the next shot is coming.
Because the descriptions are short, they take little time for the reader to absorb before he or she moves onto the next one. Each line comes faster and faster, until the reader finds him or herself in the fight.
And then suddenly, it is over and the reader is left drained, but exhilarated.
In action sequences, less is more.
(Note: The above sequence is from my latest screenplay The Naughty List, a holiday-themed film for adults. Think The Santa Clause meets Good Morning, Vietnam.)
Hey my social media community,
Anyone have a connection to Mike Myers or his camp, and would be willing to link me up or act as a go-between?
I have a screenplay for which he would be the perfect lead (in my head) and would love to make the connection.
If you do, I’d be happy to give you as many details as I can via email…and of course, all the love I can muster!
I promise…this is legitimate…no silly ideas…I have never felt so positive about a story, ever. It has everything an A-list actor could want.
Thanks for dreaming along with me….Randy
PS This is the same screenplay that WILL win the Austin Film Festival, Scriptapalooza and Nicholl prizes in 2014.
(Image used without permission)
Well, it has taken about 10 months, but I have managed to reach my 400th blog entry. Now, admittedly, a few of these were reposts from someone else’s blogs, but the majority were the ramblings of li’l ol’ me.
So, first, thank you all for your patience and support. You have been victim of a seemingly ceaseless assault of verbal and visual abuse that bordered on the ludicrous with two or more posts as day for several months.
But, second, you may have noticed I have slowed down in that onslaught for the past month or so. I promise, it is not for lack of ideas but more for volume and variety of media with which I deal on a daily basis. And it is this volume that has had me thinking lately (and I hate thinking).
I have spread myself too thin…I am trying to do too many things such that I don’t know that I’m doing anything. Thus, for the next little while, at least, I am going to focus my efforts on just a few projects that I think will have the greatest impact.
This is not a resolution—I don’t do those anymore—but an admission that if I don’t finalize something, I will never get out of the basement apartment and will perpetually be tied to my previous careers as sources of $$$.
So, my completion priorities for early 2014 (in no particular order):
That last one was actually one of the motivating factors for creating the blog in the first place…to finally make myself write down my thoughts, experiences and understanding of the creative process with particular focus on writing. This is not to say the postings will disappear from my blog, but my plan is to assemble the most salient ones, with editing, into a book format for sale.
For all of those with whom I am working on projects not listed above as a priority, I have not forsaken you and will continue to work on those projects…just not as a top priority. I can only hope you understand (and suspect you all will).
And again, to my blog followers, I thank you for your patronage and hope to continue to amuse, intrigue or stimulate you…just at a more leisurely pace for both of us.
Love to you all…Randy
What makes your writing unique from all others is your perspective, the way thoughts, words and actions are interpreted in your mind.
If 10 people witness the same collision between two cars, each one will recount a slightly varied story from another. Some may gauge the speeds of the vehicles differently or not remember the same car braking first.
Less what you remember and more how you remember is influenced consciously and unconsciously by your personal experiences, your beliefs and your moods. As good a reason as any for the police and court system not to rely on a single eye witness account whenever possible.
The same is true for your writing.
Although our imaginations give us some ability to write fanciful stories and characters outside our day-to-day scope, a close examination of our oddest creations will show that they are largely reinterpretations of things we have read or experienced in other stories.
Dragons, for example, are likely an amalgamation of flying raptors (e.g., eagles), strange lizards (e.g., monitors) and giant fossilized remains that humans have dug up for millennia. How else to explain the similarity of a T. rex skull and monitor lizards?
At the same time, it was the unique experience of these three factors in combination that may have resulted in the first dragon description. A truly unique perspective.
To consider it another way, think on the meaning of perspective in the visual arts:
The art of drawing solid objects on a two-dimensional surface so as to give the right impression of their height, width, depth, and position in relation to each other when viewed from a particular point.
Giving the right impression of [facts]…from a particular point [of view].
But what if you changed that point of view?
Changing perspectives is perhaps the easiest way to approach cliché writing and makes the predictable unexpected.
If you want to tell a love story that is essentially Romeo & Juliet, tell it from the perspective of rival street gangs in New York. Oh, but wait; they already made that one.
Then how about from the perspective of fish in a pet shop and instead of rival families, it is the divide between fresh and salt water? Crazy, hunh? (NOTE: I already wrote this one, so please go write something else.)
The same holds true whether you’re considering an entire story, a single scene, an individual line of dialogue or a character trait.
How might the floor of a dance club look if you changed your perspective from that of an evening reveller to that of an observer seated on a ceiling rafter? Probably like one of those wild life documentaries describing the mating habits of some ridiculous animal.
Or what might your backyard “look” like if your only sense was touch?
By changing your perspective in even the smallest of ways (you don’t have to blind yourself), you can dramatically alter your perception of the world.
So, the next time you find yourself stuck for an idea or facing a cliché moment in your writing, try looking at your world upside-down or through another character’s eyes.
Take a new perspective and you’ll reach a whole new point.
(Drawing is property of owner and is used here without permission because I take a different perspective on these things.)
As the alcohol sets in and the year ends, I thought I’d take a moment to consider the 2013 Randys, the seminal moments and/or people of the past year.
Every year is special but this was truly a year for the books (or Kindles/Kobos if you’re one of those people).
Most engaging conversation: Weekly meetings with friend, Agah Bahari
Silliest playtime: Conversations with Kevin Scott, Marsha Mason, Nic Lemon
Most raucous laughter: Monthly bonfires organized by Janine Short
Most head-spinning period: Austin Film Festival, both the sessions and attendees
Oddest friendship (tie): Virtual connection to blogger Ned Hickson; Duke #75, mascot of the Toronto Marlies
Most humbing moment: Little Joe’s Heart campaign and response
Friend of the year (tie): Leela Holliman, Nic Lemon, Marsha Mason
Dream come true: Travelling Costa Rica (bonus: with my brother, Shawn “Chongo” Solnik)
Greatest moment of the year: Photo with cast of PuppetUp!
When you first start exploring any art form, you are typically rapt in the joy of expression, but you are also at your most ego-vulnerable. Thus, it is nice every now and again to receive some positive feedback and it is even better when that feedback comes from someone who represents your art’s industry (rather than your mom).
As many of you know, one of my screenplays was a Second Rounder in the 2013 Austin Film Festival screenplay competition. Part of achieving that status is receiving readers’ notes that explain why you moved forward in the competition and why you stopped. A couple of days ago, I received the notes for my feature Tank’s.
Wow.
Below, I offer some of the positive feedback (I received negative too).
“An exhilarating, imaginatively conceived, meticulously crafted, professionally polished animation intended fairy tale, a love story set in the cosmos of fish.”
“Obviously the work of a talented, experienced writer who knows animated light comedy, how it works, and how to do it.”
“The linear narrative is redeemed, however, by the enthralling depiction of fish as people, their humanly drawn nautical universe, and a buoyant, lighthearted mood pervading the narrative.”
“Is the writer competitive here with, say, the creative minds at Pixar? Without question, yes.”
“The storytelling is befitting of the silly/adult humor of Dreamworks while still maintaining the light family-friendly air of a Disney cartoon musical.”
Kind of makes me want to keep writing, you know?
(Images are property of owners and are used here without permission because I am that good)

My favourite shot of Welles as I believe that smile and those eyes tell me everything I need to know about the man
Being a good writer necessitates having a good eye and a good ear.
The good eye is the attention to details that will help you paint a word-picture of what you have seen with your physical eyes and processed in your mind’s eye. It’s not necessarily about writing long-winded passages of backgrounds or going into minute detail of a character’s physical attributes (I’ve done plenty of that), but rather in choosing the most precise and meaningful words to describe the environment or the person.
The good ear is the attention to how people communication and how they speak, not always the same thing. Again, it involves finding the right words and inflections (at least implied inflections) that give the reader and actor clues as to who this person is. And perhaps just as importantly, it is about finding just the right cadence for your character’s speech patterns.
If you listen really closely to a conversation, you’ll realize that there is little difference between speaking and singing. There is a rhythm, a cadence to speaking. Conversation is an improvised duet sung a capella. But unlike a traditional song which may have a subset of arrangements, each of us sings to our own tune, with our own rhythms and inflections. It is one of the many things that sets us apart from each other.
When writing characters, it is important to keep this in mind as all too often, a group of characters can have a certain monotone, which I use not to imply flatness so much as sameness. Often, I believe, it occurs when the writer neglects to add variety to his characters’ speech patterns and instead writes them with one voice; his or hers.
The best writers don’t make this mistake…or at least minimize its occurrences. Each character he or she presents us is truly unique, jumps off the page or screen, provides his or her own internal musical accompaniment.
One of my favourite writers of the last decade or so is Aaron Sorkin whose overall writing has its cadence but whose characters also tango (or more often tarantella) across the screen. Read the pilot to The West Wing or the screenplay for The Social Network and you will know you’re reading Sorkin.
But for me, perhaps a better example is Orson Welles, the man who would be Kane.
Recently, someone discovered a long-lost unproduced screenplay by Welles called The Way to Santiago, written in 1940-41. Another blogger discussed the find recently, and provided a link to the actual screenplay (see link below). You only have to read a couple of pages to remind yourself (or educate yourself on) how Orson Welles wrote and the energies he imbued in his characters, each one a snowflake of facets and reflections.
Now, listen to the films or read the screenplays of The Third Man, The Magnificent Ambersons, Touch of Evil. Although you may question the choice of actors, you can clearly hear or see the distinctions in the characters. Bathe in the richness and depth of each one as he or she is captured for this brief moment. This is the stuff of which dreams are made.
It is also interesting to consider that Welles got his start on stage and in radio, where the human voice plays such a larger role in conveying a story than it does in film. There is much less to occupy the mind onstage or in radio and so dialogue carries a significant burden of not only informing but also entrancing the listener.
Although the stories I write are distinctly different from the Wellesian oeuvre, there is much I can and do learn from this master of the written word. He is worth the read and the listen.
Links of interest:
The Way to Santiago at Cinephilia and Beyond
The Way to Santiago, starring Howard Hesseman on Vimeo (A valiant but not brilliant attempt)
“Thank You, Mr. Welles: Definitive actor, consummate director, and true auteur” at Curnblog.com
“Screenplays by Orson Welles” (listing) on Wikipedia
Me and Orson Welles A light but adorable movie that probably portrays Welles’ character better than Welles
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Mother, Nehiyaw, Metis, & Itisahwâkan - career communicator. This is my collection of opinions, stories, and the occasional rise to, or fall from, challenge. In other words, it's my party, I can fun if I want to. Artwork by aaronpaquette.net
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