Scars. Or, Why K-Mart Is A Death Trap

Over on YA Highway they're asking: What's the story of your best scar?


                     


Wrong Scar. I do have the overwhelming urge to watch The Lion King, though.


Let's talk about mechanical horses, shall we?


My best scar is a little inch-long nothing right underneath my chin. My mother (who has been witness to the majority of my boneheaded ideas) is probably the only one who even remembers that I have it.


I was young. Probably four or five? My mom, aunt, six-year-old cousin and I were about to do a little shopping at K-Mart when my cousin decided that she wanted to ride the mechanical horse outside the store. You know the rides I'm talking about. It's usually a train or a horse; you pop in a quarter and your kid gets to take the slowest gallop of their lives.


        


Well, I just had to ride with her. I climbed up there on the horse behind her and promptly slid off, hitting the cold concrete chin-first. I blame it on the fact that I was probably wearing corduroy pants. No traction on those things.


One visit to the doctor and a butterfly bandage later, I was good as new.


My best emotional scar is a subject for another post. Or three years of therapy.

Box? What Box?

                        


TWP and I learned a hard lesson this weekend, but hard in a way that felt like a break through as opposed to a break down.


I did like I always do on weekends: haul the lap top out to the dining room table, pull the blinds so I won't be tempted to stare out at our gorgeous view (and block out the sun, because the sun and I are not friends), and flip on the TV for background noise. Hello, SyFy Saturday movies. 


Here's the thing: ten pages into the script (which we'd revised now two or three times) I realized something. I called up TWP and asked him for his impressions. Our conversation went something like this:


Me: So, I'm ten pages in.
TWP: What're you thinking?
Me: I have thoughts about this, but tell me what you're thinking, because I want to see if we're thinking the same thing.
TWP: Something's missing.
Me: THIS IS WHY WE ARE WRITING PARTNERS.


At this point, my roommate walked by me and gave me the "why are you crazy" eye.


I needed to have TWP say it first because if I'd brought up the idea of massive changes, he's have been resistant. TWP and CHANGE don't get along. Needless to say, I was relieved that we were on the same page. Hence, the caps lock.


The realization we both came to was that, while we were revising like crazy, we were only revising within the setup and outline that we'd already locked in. We could only go so far. What was truly needed was for both of us to take a step back and really look at what could be overhauled to make the script as good as it could possibly be. It turned out that included a completely new first act and the addition of a whole new character.


We needed to step outside the box we'd locked ourselves in. By doing so, we're going to turn a good script into a great script. A script we're finally happy with.

It's Friiiiiday

Project for the weekend?


      


I've got a book to read for work, a script to revise from TWP, and writing to write on the WIP!


Also, going to see RED RIDING HOOD. Pretty much a given for me, right there. 

Why Do I Have a Job?

Because I need cash money. Don't get me wrong, my day job is pretty friggen sweet.


However, I think all y'all know what I mean when I say that I want my day job and my night job and my weekend job and the job that I love to be one in the same: writing. That's why I work hard. That's why I type my little fingers to the bone.


I wrote 1,500 words today. Can't wait to get up tomorrow and do it again.


        
                                              (by Anthony Burrill)                                           

Srsly Guise

It's the weekend, and it's time to get down to some serious business, aka writing.


Here's the thing. The writing partner (henceforth to be known as TWP) and I had been bouncing some ideas for the book around, but I was having a difficult time wrapping my head around a very important piece of the story: the thing that made my main character who she was. TWP kept telling me that I'd see it eventually, how she'd fit in this world we were creating for her, but it was like peering through thick fog. She was blurry to me.


Until today, anyway. Today my whole story (or at least a good chunk and a nice starting point) flashed before me, and one idea lead to another boom boom boom down like dominoes. I changed the world around my main character, and everything came into sharp focus. I jotted it all in an email to TWP and am waiting for a reaction.


I say reaction because 1) TWP is usually our idea guy, I simply refine them, and 2) TWP's not a big fan of change. Even less so of sweeping change. 


This should be fun.

Happy Friday, y'all. Here's a little something that made me laugh so hard I got strange looks at the office:

(via filmdrunk)