Friday, April 30, 2010

101 Pages of Pure ...

ScriptFrenzy ends in a half hour. I have 101 pages of a graphic novel entitled: Blue Loco: Goodbye to the Spy, which is about one half of the plot points contained in my novel, Blue Loco.

This "treatment" of my novel has shorter, simpler dialog, fewer characters, more blatant sexual references, very little narration and not a single scrap of literary merit.

In other words, I had a ball! I did not think that the ScriptFrenzy experience was as good as the NaNoWriMo month, but it was good. And I may have the nuts to go back and revise the real novel.

Monday, April 19, 2010

Half-Made is All Monster

In my dream the other night, I half-turned into a monster made of metal. I can remember a bright silvery mask on one side of my face, and other parts of my body being replaced with machinery. It was terrifying. Two of my friends had undergone the same transformation. We finally realized that we needed to push through it, force it to go all the way. The process was painful and difficult, but when the transformation was complete, we became superheros.

I have been thinking about what I am leaving half-done, and how that incompleteness could be dangerous/frightening/unpleasant. My list includes:
  • my search for a new challenge: I become repetitive and depressed
  • becoming a writer: Procrastination begins to feel like destiny
  • renovating my house: My unloved house seems to reflect my life
Prompt: What are you leaving dangerously unfinished?

Thursday, April 8, 2010

Reasons for Things

This morning, I was driving up the new bridge on 46 when I saw a black and white duck that had been hit by a car. I realized it was still alive, and I could vaguely sense that its friends were flying around it, just overhead. I passed it, stabbed on the flashers and backed up, hoping that the other drivers would see me in time to prevent total chaos. I just couldn't leave a fellow traveller to die the death of a hundred cars.

I jumped out of the Mini and threw up the hatch. As I ran back, the other birds circled me. When I got to him, he looked up at me. I saw intense yellow eyes and a black and white stripped head that ended in a hooked beak. No duck: this was a full-grown osprey. I reached down, gloveless, without hesitation, which I think shows that I was suffering from adrenaline poisoning.

He didn't look frightened or angry; he looked affronted. Such an indignity to be gathered up, legs dangling, and tossed into the back of a tiny car.

I drove on, simultaneously dialing the Birds of Prey Center. He flapped his mighty five foot wingspan and was practically driving the car. I pushed his wing gently out of the way, cajoling him, "Back seat. Back seat!" The leading edge of his wing was soft, feathered in short downlike fronds. After a minute, he settled behind the passenger seat and spent the rest of the 45 minute drive staring at me. He never made a sound, except the soft flap of a wing.

At the center, I opened the passenger door: he was on his back, legs useless, but wings spread threateningly. I folded one wing, then the other, and lifted. He was heavy and warm. Thin blood dripped from his right wing. He bit down on my leather glove. I slipped my hand out so he could hold on to it.

The ladies at the center told me he will not live. Two badly broken legs and internal injuries will take him permanently from the sky and from me.

The reasons for things escape me.

From the Sublime...

... to the ridiculous.

An article on data warehousing I was reading today said this: "just when you think you have it made and start to put your feet back and enjoy the good life"

Must be a yoga student!

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Celestial Anna

As you tell a story of second blooming
a spark of gold flickers and hovers
over your hip

Soon, in the path of your laughter
swirls a convention of fireflies

Then, as you gather your scarf
a blaze of tiny stars stream out
and in your wake
sweeps a comet's tail.


I saw your aura tonight, Anna, and couldn't resist a poem! Hope you don't mind.

Thursday, April 1, 2010

Entrails, Vampires and Vixens: Make My Novel Graphic, Please!


PANEL 1. TRANSITION... overwritten tome sliced ruthlessly down to sleekly plotted 100-page graphic novel. (SFX: Sssssnik!)

I may regret this, but I have committed to writing a comic book/graphic novel script in 30 days. In the past 48 hours, I have read up on formatting, time shifts, thought bubbles, captions and sound effects. I also bought a couple of graphic novels to support me in this endeavor.

Oof! I didn't remember that the word 'graphic' meant like as in 'graphic content'!

This whirlwind education is the tiniest portion of what I need to know. I will probably NOT be the genre's next Phil Hester. But I am diving in, anyway. Why?

Because in one day, I have condensed 2500 words down to 1000 and figured out that I need to cut out the first scene, put in a new exciting scene in the first chapter, and dispense with explaining everything. I've revved up my dialog, promoted one plot point and demoted another. Woo-hoo!

I am enthralled. My guts are wrung with joy. This is the best rewriting device EVER.

Prompt: Dust off that novel, and make it a comic book!