Let's Get Spooky

Over on YA Highway, they're asking: 


What books were you obsessed with as a kid?


I was a morbid kid. Quite frankly, I'm a morbid adult. I write horror / thriller scripts. Love scary books. Adore scary movies (the suspenseful, smart kind; not the gory, ridiculous kind.) So it should surprise no one that this was my favorite book when I was a kid:


                         


To say I read this book 20 times would be a gross understatement. It wasn't simply a ghost story. It also dealt with feelings of abandonment, loneliness, and the upheaval that comes when parents gets remarried and the children on each respective side have to learn to get along with one another. So, not exactly light topics.


I think that's why I loved it, though. I felt like Mary Downing Hahn wrote in a way that made things easy to grasp, while not talking down to me like I was, well, a kid. Plus, it was spooky as heck, and who doesn't love to be scared?

To Hermit, Or Not To Hermit

So I have a friend. Shocking, I know. He's another aspiring writer. He invited me to join a little writing group he's a part of that meets every Saturday at a cafe just down the road a bit from my apartment.


How fun, right? To actually *leave my apartment* and interact with *actual human beings* on the weekends? And get writing done? Practically unheard of.


Perhaps I will treat myself to this deliciousness in honor of the occasion:


                              Bricks and Scones latte, originally uploaded by starchymarie                                     

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)                                           

Then Again, Maybe Not

So remember how I said that my plot fell into place, and everything was going swimmingly?

                            

Yeah.


The fundamental thing - who my character was - it was just too much. Too much. I couldn't wrap my little pea brain around it.


This morning, TWP and I had a little knock down drag out about it. I usually get all indignant and self-righteous about things, explain myself loudly, and generally cause TWP to want to smash his phone into a gajillion tiny little pieces. Once I've had a chance to explore my own take on his ideas (which I hate in the beginning!), calm down, and have a cup of tea, I usually see that he has a point. Usually. Which is lovely.


The hybrid style works for us. He sees things that I don't, and vice versa. What's great is that we both recognize that sometimes the only way to get to what you need is to tell the other person that their ideas are stupid, and to not take that personally.


So, that's the story of how my main character got an overhaul on my very productive morning commute.