So. Did you watch the Oscars? I don’t know about you, but I was terribly bored. It just felt obligatory. Where was the fanfare? Where was the over-production? Instead, we got an awards ceremony that was just as predictable as most industry films. Daniel Day Lewis had to win for There Will Be Blood. He raised the bar so high, actors who win the same award in the future will feel like charlatans. On the other hand There Will Be Blood couldn’t win for Best Picture, because it was horribly dull. The academy might be eccentric in its voting, but they understand what entertainment is. Heck, I haven’t even seen No Country for Old Men and I knew it was going to win. It was also a sad night for Original Songs. The Disney songs were serviceable, but horribly staged and/or performed, though hats off to Amy Adams. I think she’s a natural performer and could probably hold her own on Broadway. I think it was the big faces she made that sold me. The Once song - the one that won - was just not something I would ever listen to if given the choice. I’m sure within the context of the film, it’s magical, but outside its setting, performed on stage, I just wanted to fast-forward the whole thing. At the end of the day, all I can say is, “Thank God for Jon Stewart.” His dry wit was probably the most entertaining part of the whole show.

One day, I hope to see the show live.

Like everyone else, I love movies. It’s a wonderful feeling to be swept away into another world for an hour or more and live through a portion of someone else’s life. Granted, not everyone’s life is interesting (or well told) and I’m, more often than not, disappointed. Whenever I am, I can’t help but think that I could do better. And that’s one of the reasons I fell into screenwriting.

Another reason is that it’s just easier for me. That’s not to say that writing a screenplay is definitively easier than, say, writing a book. I find that - for me - telling a story through a movie saves me a lot of pre-writing, which usually consists of researching whatever it is I’m writing about. As a storyteller, there’s a certain amount of authority you have to build in order for your audience to lose themselves in your tale. Take, for instance, a scene where a character is about to snipe a another character with a long-range rifle. You want to make sure the audience knows that the sniper is a professional. To establish your storyteller authority in a book, more than likely, you would describe technical details of the rifle, like accuracy, reload time, weight, etc. You might describe sniper methods, like breathing, adjusting for wind, stances, whatever. When you have this kind of foundation, your audience will be with you when you portray your sniper as a veteran.

Now, consider the same scene from a screenwriter’s view. The screenplay isn’t meant to be read by the audience. In a roundabout way, it’s meant to be seen. Therefore, the burden of storyteller authority is significantly reduced for screenwriters. Depending on the kind of story, I don’t have to necessarily research all of minutia about rifles. I can simply write: MAC pulls out a sniper rifle and aims without hesitation. When the audience sees the gun and how the actor is behaving, they understand that that character is a veteran. Not only does concept of writing visually save me research time, but it also saves me a lot of writing for foundation-building.

The craft of screenwriting is also just easier for me to understand. When I consider books, I think of meandering plots that don’t necessarily rise or fall. It’s just full of things that the characters do. That’s probably an ignorant statement to make, so if it is, I’ll just chalk that up to my not reading enough books. With screenplays - industry versions, anyway - I can totally get behind the three-act structure. I don’t mind knocking out the inciting incident within the first 20 pages. I like figuring out character arcs. Best of all, I enjoy the inverse necessity of pages. The target for screenplays is 120 pages whereas I’m sure publishers want authors to write more pages to justify book prices.

Anyway, my screenplay is now in the hands of a working film actor and if he likes it, he’ll sit down with a couple of bigwig directors and give them his thoughts on it. I’m trying to keep my excitement to a small warmth in my chest. I’ve lived long enough to discipline myself into not getting my hopes up. If it happens, then I’ll celebrate. If it doesn’t, I’m no worse for wear.

With that said, wish me luck.

I hate to harp on this, but I’m not doing a very good job at blogging. And now, I can’t even blame work, since there really isn’t that much to do - comparatively anyway. The fact of the matter is, I just haven’t been inspired to write. Before, I was living hand-to-mouth, spending my paychecks on living expenses almost as soon as I got paid. Ever since Christmas money and tax refunds have rolled in, I’ve been able to get a little ahead and have some petty cash left over for needless expenses like graphics and sound cards from my PC. It’s got me going through this gaming kick and now I’ve gotten myself a little obsessed. Unfortunately, getting back into PC gaming has more drawbacks than time constraints. I’m also being reminded of all the bugginess and hardware incompatibilities I used to have to deal with. What I especially love is how everything is incompatible with Windows Vista! If you have a Sound Blaster Audigy card on you XP rig, you will be charmed and delighted to find that your 5.1 will break on Vista. You’ll have to set your output to 2.1 or you’ll be missing some channels. It’s really weird. You could, of course, upgrade to an X-fi card - like I did - to restore your surround sound.

What really gets to me is that I upgraded to Vista to play one game in particular: Bioshock. I come to find out that Bioshock (BS) crashes to BSOD (Blue Screen of Death) every five minutes on Vista. Sadly, you need Vista to run any game in DirectX 10, which has all the new bells and whistles that we game enthusiasts crave. When I contacted 2K Games about a possible solution, their tech guy advised that I run the game in DirectX 9, totally defeating the purpose of making the game for DirectX 10 and me upgrading. So let’s see, I’ve spent:

• $200 for Vista Ultimate to run DirectX 10
• $250 for 8800 GT video card to play in DirectX 10
• $150 for X-fi sound card to restore my 5.1 in Vista
• $40 for Bioshock

And now I can’t even play the freaking game, because the crashing is so aggravating - even in DirectX 9. I think this is God’s way of telling me I need to focus my time on something more productive.

With that said, a cousin of mine and I have been talking about producing a short film. I can’t discuss the concept yet, but it’s on the funny side. We met with a possible director and I thought the meet went pretty well, but we’re still open to bringing other people on board. Once my cousin gets back from Japan, we’ll have a sitdown with my other director buddy and see how everything jells.

In other news, I recently found out that my friend, The Mormon, works with someone at his restaurant with industry ties. I’ll keep the guy’s identity on the QT for now, but the important part of this story is that he’s willing to read my screenplay and see what he can do with it. This just goes to show that you never know who knows who, so network with everyone. When you’re starting out, there’s less room to be picky with your friends when your writing career is concerned.

More soon.

(Entry redacted for career reasons. If you know me, gimme a call and I’ll give you the scoop.)

Since I’m doing my best to get some exposure, I frequent as many social networks as I can. More often than not, these Web sites have an “About Me” section with a sub-section for favorite movies. I’m always fascinated with the common threads that tie everyone together. One film title that I constantly find on female social networking profiles is The Notebook. This appalls me, not because it’s a bad movie, per se, but because the romance portrayed in the film represents both everything that’s wrong in relationships and apparently what women want in relationships.

It goes without saying that you shouldn’t read this if you haven’t seen the movie yet.

OK, so we have Noah and Allie and they’re just two crazy kids in love. We’ve all been there. It’s easy to fall in love over the summer when you’re young and silly and having fun lying in the street laughing at stoplights. That’s why, at the end of the day, Allie’s parents were right in splitting them up. What did Allie know about love? She was 17. She knew everything about passion — agreed — but that’s not love. Love — real love — is loving someone when it’s hard, when they don’t deserve it, when they’ve hurt you in the worst way. Real love does not blossom in the span of one summer.

Noah and Allie find themselves separated for seven years, during which time they live out very different lives and meet new people. They still carry a torch for each other and that’s fine. I still think of girls I knew in high school and wonder what ever became of them. It’s natural, but Allie meets Lon and he’s amazing. He comes from the same background. He’s charming, has great prospects and, let’s not forget, he absolutely loves Allie. She claims to love him back and he has no reason to doubt her since she’s agreed to marry him. This is awesome. This is what every person hopefully strives for when they seek out relationships. Yet the moment Allie sees Noah’s picture in the newspaper, everything that she and Lon built suddenly and completely goes down the toilet. Flush. No floaters.

She tells Lon that she’s going to visit the Old Town, knowing full well that she’s actually going to see Noah. Lon, of course, has no problem with her visiting anywhere because his trust in her is that complete. Allie and Noah reconnect and what happens? She lets him take her to the boneyard. Repeatedly. Astonishingly, Lon, the great guy that he is, forgives Allie and is willing to take her back. Allie declines, opting to be with the guy she knew for a total of three months, hadn’t seen for seven years and has no identifiable source of income.

Never mind that she told Lon that she loved him.

Never mind that she agreed to marry him.

Never mind the entire life she’s built with him.

Allie found “true love” and that’s all that matters.

Everything else be damned!

That brings us to today’s social landscape. Women around the world are watching The Notebook and applauding it, saying to themselves, “Yes. YES! This is proper behavior! My love life should be like this!” This movie tells women that even if they are in committed relationships with men who are good for them, they should cash these men in like a small stack of poker chips in a casino for the chance at passion. Words have no meaning and when you tell someone you love them and that you’ll marry them it should be understood that all contracts are only binding insofar as you don’t run into your ex-boyfriend.

Conversely, The Notebook tells all guys that it doesn’t matter how well you treat your girl. You can offer her financial stability, emotional support and your dashing good looks. None of that matters in the face of true love. And even if you think you’re the one she’s truly in love with, as Lon surely did, The Notebook proves that you’re only right until you’re proven wrong. Therefore, as a boyfriend, you should be as controlling as possible. Don’t let your girlfriend go dancing, grocery shopping or get the car washed, because you never know where she might discover true love. Imagine how embarrassing it would be to have your girlfriend take your Lamborghini to get washed and run into her old high school sweetheart working there. Their eyes meet and memories of remedial algebra crash into their thoughts as suds, love and violin strings swell around them. Hey, it could happen, which is why it’s never too early to become a Muslim Fundamentalist.

The point here is that, as a guy, you cannot rely on your good looks, fine upbringing, good job or wonderful treatment to keep you secure in your relationship. Furthermore, you can’t make the mistake of thinking your girl’s words are worth a damn when she tells you she loves you and that she’ll marry you. NOTHING TRUMPS TRUE LOVE.

The insidious aspect of romantic comedies and romantic dramas is that they make men sympathize with the guy who gets the girl, never with the guy who loses her. Therefore, we naturally think that we are the hero of our own romantic drama. And maybe that’s true, but only until we get the girl. Once that happens, if we follow the rules of romantic dramas, we become the villain. And as we all know, the villain can only lose the girl.

One of the few romantic dramas that I can respect is Casablanca. Rick’s decision to let Ilsa go at the end is the very essence of true love. If Ilsa doesn’t go with Victor, everyone’s lives are going to suck. Instead, they keep the love for each other safe in their hearts, because it’s not something that can survive in the world anymore. So, despite the personal anguish, Rick lets Ilsa go because it’s what’s best for her in the long run.

Heck, that’s better than true love; it’s smart love.

Author’s Note: If you enjoyed reading this article, please bookmark or email it with the “ShareThis” link below so that other people may enjoy it also. Thank you!

It’s an interesting thing to be a writer. Its one of those jobs that everyone thinks they can just do. Everyone communicates through writing as it is. It’s easy enough to do it creatively then, right? It’s like that old joke about the writer and the brain surgeon.

A writer and a brain surgeon are at a party and start talking about what each other does for a living. The brain surgeon says to the writer, “You know, I’ve always wanted to be a writer. I think I’ll start tomorrow.” The writer replies, “Really? I’ve always wanted to be a brain surgeon. I think I’ll start tomorrow.”

And before I continue, I’ve got to get this little non sequitur out because it’s on my mind: My friend came over tonight and fetched himself a soda from my fridge. Unfortunately, he didn’t close the door all the way and I didn’t discover the oversight until four hours later. Now my fridge has that freon smell and I don’t hear the compressor kicking on anymore. I’m hoping everything will magically fix itself, but we’ll see.

Anyway, it’s easy enough to call yourself a writer simply because you write. For the longest time, I was one of those “writers.” By and large, I still consider myself as one them, only because I’m not the kind of writer I had hoped to be. I wanted to be one of the classically anemic, pale novelists or screenwriters who smoke too much and imagine new and interesting ways to describe a lamppost. Instead, I do what I do and I’m grateful for what I have, but it’s not my passion. On the other hand, because I do what I do, I feel I can separate myself from the chaff that only talks about being a writer, but at the end of the day vegges out in front of the TV.

The other night was a turning point for me. If I am going to become the kind of writer I want to be, then I must behave like that kind of writer and take my career more seriously.

As you may or may not know, I am an aspiring screenwriter among all of the other types of writer I’m trying to be. As such, after I completed my screenplay, I sought coverage for it, which is basically a detailed analysis of the work by an industry professional (read: reader) who will then give an opinion as to the screenplay’s feasibility as a produced film. The service I used was ScriptShark. Even though my script was given a PASS, I was still impressed with the coverage and remained on their mailing list. They emailed me recently, inviting me to a “Business of Writing” seminar in Los Angeles. It was free so I decided to check it out. It was last Sunday and actually, it was located in Santa Monica (which is West LA) in what looked like a compound for creative types called Bergamot Station Arts Colony.

Since Los Angeles traffic is notoriously treacherous regardless of the day and time, I left way ahead of schedule, but consequently arrived way too early as well. Still, this gave me time to wander the grounds a bit. Apparently, it had rained because the lonely parking lot was slick and water puddled everywhere. Droplets dripped a slow, tinny percussion on the sheet metal roofs of the tiny museums and galleries that made up the Bergamot. I walked around and snapped a photo here and there.

Once I ran out of interesting things to look at, I sat down and had a cigarette. Actually, I had a couple of cigarettes. After 20 minutes or so, people started showing up and I followed them to the Writers Boot Camp building. While I’m sketchy on the details, I believe that Writers Boot Camp is a two-year program where people are broken down and reconstructed into writers. How that’s done exactly, I’m not sure and I’m not curious enough to shell out the clams to sign up and find out. According to Variety, however, at least 8,000 writers have graduated from the program, some even penning big name movies like Ocean’s 13. I found all of this out after the seminar, mind you, from reading the little press kit they handed out.

The speaker for the evening was Lee Zahavi Jessup, who is titled as the “Director” of ScriptShark. Lee is a short redheaded woman with long, full hair. Not that you should concern yourself with her looks. I just wanted to give you a visual. After asking the small turnout to sit closer to the stage, Lee launched into her speech without any notes and only her iPhone to keep her on track with time. I have to admit that she is a remarkable speaker, with nary a filler “um” or “uh” to bridge her thoughts. On the other hand, she’s probably given this seminar a thousand times before.

The beginning and the majority of the talk revolved around the hard-hitting “truth” about the film industry and what nonsensical biases a struggling writer would have to face, such as ageism. Older people generally have fuller lives and are less willing to sacrifice the things that comprise that life in order to meet deadlines. Women are less valued as screenwriters as well. A female writer may decide one day that she wants to have kids and her pregnancy is going to affect her productivity. Or, maybe she already has kids. If a mother is faced with deciding to take little Timmy to rehab or turning in pages, which one do you think she’s going to choose? These points and more were brought up and they were both gloomy and nothing I hadn’t already thought of myself, which is why getting experience in the industry is more important than ever for me now since I’m pushing the golden years for a screenwriter: 30+.

The idea of getting my big break by optioning my spec script is apparently an unlikely event. Instead, Lee suggested branding myself as an expert writer in one particular genre. That way I could be sent in to script doctor screenplays in my expertise while my agent shopped my script around. No, it wouldn’t be the glamorous industry writing gig I’ve been dreaming about, but it would be a very big part of my foot in the door. Of course all of this moot until the writers strike ends.

While I think most people found it mundane, what I got most out of the seminar was the idea of truly being a writer as a profession. I should be constantly learning the craft, taking classes, reading books, whatever. I should be honing my talent on a daily basis. I don’t think I’m actively doing that. I think I sit here and simply believe that I’m a writer, like that car salesman who thinks his life story would make a great movie, so he buys Final Draft and knocks out a screenplay. Voila! Writer overnight.

I don’t want to be that guy. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I need to start taking my writing career seriously.

On the other hand, I also want to have a life.