Living with Literary Loss...Do They Miss Me As Well?

The story is over.

Not quite, I guess, however the evolution of the story is over. There will be re-writes and polishes as the unbridled writing of the first draft is reviewed and revamped so that when it comes time to publish, the manuscript is at its best. In doing this, once again, I’ll be revisiting the characters with which I’ve been living for months, but it won’t be same, as what is over is that sense of discovery the characters provide me as we collectively attempt to tell, hopefully, an engaging and entertaining tale.

Every creative individual approaches their craft, whether it be writing, painting, filmmaking, music, whatever, in their own way. Where the desire to create comes from, no one truly knows. Why it is one person has that ability and another doesn’t? There are a lot of mysteries in life, and while it is in our nature to try and uncover those mysteries, sometimes they’re best left alone and unquestioned.

Over the years I discovered my approach to creativity. It wasn’t self-evident at first, as whether or not I had the talent wasn’t self-evident at first. I had the desire, and all great things stem from that. My approach to writing involved a great deal of blind faith. I found I had to start with an idea that inspired me and whether or not I knew how the story would end, just sit down and write and see what journey the story and its characters took me on. This is not always a desirable way to write, as at any time during that journey, the characters might say, “Stop the car; I’m getting out. I’ll walk from here,” and leave the writer with five or six chapters and nowhere to go from there. I can only imagine the number of unfinished manuscripts collecting dust in desk drawers around the world; at one time, I was an owner of just such a collection of incomplete manuscripts.

Having written over twenty screenplays (possibly closer to thirty), and having employed the method of ignorance is bliss, I’ve become somewhat confident in my abilities to flesh out a story. I’ve come to trust the story and the characters that inhabit it that, first of all, they will not abandoned me, and secondly, they will eventually show me the way. That’s not to say that within that confidence, every time I start a new novel or screenplay, I’m not living in fear that this will be the time it will all fall apart (some of us work better with a little fear fueling us).

The approach I employ has a way of making the characters live with me on a daily basis. If I’m not specifically thinking about my latest manuscript, below the surface the wheels are still turning. As I was approaching the end of The Marquis Mark, my latest effort, I had no idea how the two storylines I had explored were going to come together in a logical way; I had no idea how the story was going to resolve itself, as logically it was leading me in one direction – the direction of least resistance – and providing me with an uninspired conclusion. You see, sometimes when the characters speak to you and offer up a direction, you have to tell them to go back to the drawing board and try again. I did that; and I lived in fear, but once again they showed me the way. The story concluded and in a way I would have never imagined when I first start telling the tale. You could say your characters are not unlike kids, in that you create them, and you nurse them along, with your own expectations of how they will behave and who they will become, but that is just your personal hopes and dreams, because sometimes they surprise you by doing something you didn’t expect. You were hoping for a Doctor in the family, but instead got a Forrest Ranger.

My characters surprised me and I’m pleased with the results, but while it is always satisfying to write “The End” at the end of a manuscript and realize you’ve completed yet another tale, there is also sadness about it. I know there will be other characters and other tales, but you come to enjoy the one you’re telling, and having lived with these characters for so long, you’ve gotten to know them and love and hate them as is required; they’re a part of your daily existence, and it is hard to say good-bye.

And that’s where I am right now, as I write this. I’m walking around out of sorts. While I am pleased to have finally finished the manuscript and with how it played out (all fears aside, these characters did me proud), I don’t know what to do with myself. I no longer have to consider what they will do next. They no longer need to tell me anything, and aren’t. Sure, I will be revisiting them, to polish their tale, but there is still a sense of loss at their passing. Yes, I agree with you, this all might just be the early signs of the insanity that is one day going to have me committed, unless I can become a best-selling novelist, as then that insanity will be merely termed eccentric and I’ll be trading a straight-jacket for a tolerant family with thoughts of inheritance living in their minds.

I will move on, and all ready there are new ideas forming in my imagination, but that doesn’t stop me from wondering that while I mourn those past character’s loss, wherever they go in the deep recesses of my imagination, do they ever miss me and the time we spent together?

I hope so.

Dark Dreaming...Embracing the Evil Within

“And now, let the casual reader beware; the pages that follow comprise of the most obscene story that has ever been told since the world began, a bible of atrocities unequalled amongst either the ancients or the moderns. Imagine that every honest pleasure permitted by that beast which men speak of, though they do not truly understand it, and which they call Nature—imagine that any such pleasure were banished from this compendium of evil, and that if you should by some chance detect a trace of them it will only be because they were besmirched by some crime, or juxtaposed with the most diabolical of iniquities.”

So warned Donatien Alphonse Francois, otherwise known as The Marquis de Sade in the Forward of his notorious book, 120 Days of Sodom; written over 37 days in 1785 when the Marquis resided in France’s equally notorious prison, the Bastille. On July 14, 1789, at the height of the French Revolution, the Bastille was stormed by citizens and looted. The Marquis had been moved a few days before the storming to Charenton, an insane asylum where he eventually died in 1814. Surprisingly, the manuscript survived (proof that literature, if given a chance will find a way to live on, despite the arrogance of man via bans, book burnings, or any other attempts to stifle its existence).

Proud of his writing, the Marquis described his book as “the most impure tale that has ever been told since our world began.”

Considering the Marquis’s own words and analysis of his works over the decades and centuries, is it any wonder the book could be said to provide inspiration? Dark inspiration, but inspiration nonetheless.

Feminist Andrea Dworkin described his books as “vile pornography”; a piece of writing featuring the worst in man, from rape and torture to murder, and all of it enthusiastically told in detail by the author. Although I can’t find the specific quote, one scholar stated, and I’m paraphrasing here, that the level of the books vileness and debauch alone made it worthy of being read and considered as serious literature.

The Marquis de Sade is a man whose very existence inspired the word “sadism.” He wrote with relish about the darker nature of humankind and did so unapologetically. He is not an easy read, but that darkness mentioned above, has provided entertainment to some degree or another for readers for a very long time. Some may read and be appalled, while some might be titillated.

In exploring the dark side of literature, what is too far? More importantly, if one is embracing writing about our darker natures, should they not push the boundaries?

During his lifetime and after his death, the Marquis found himself at the center of a great deal of debate and attempted censorship. In more recent times, the author Bret Easton Ellis found himself at the center of controversy when he dared to publish his serial killer novel, American Psycho in 1991, a book with both graphic violence and sexual content. Ellis told his tale in the first person through the eyes of Manhattan serial killer Patrick Bateman, and while before it, many books had been written about serial killers, American Psycho hit a nerve, outraged many and resulted in the author being called a misogynist.

Shortly after its publication and the brouhaha it created, Ellis responded to the criticisms in The New York Times stating, “I had no idea the novel would provoke the reception it’s gotten, and I still don’t quite get it...But then I was not trying to add members to my fan club. You do not write a novel for praise, or thinking of your audience. You write for yourself; you work out between you and your pen the things that intrigue you.”

Critics and readers questioned Ellis’s humanity, wondering how he could write such stuff; that such evil could reside within him. How could he think of such disgusting things? I read American Psycho in 1991, but not right away; so when I was reading it, news hit the airways on July 22, 1991 that a Jeffrey Dahmer had been apprehended. Dahmer’s story was one of rape, murder, dismemberment, necrophilia and cannibalism – and it wasn’t a tale of fiction but horribly true.

It all suddenly made sense to me; where had Bret Easton Ellis found inspiration for the murders committed by his fictional protagonist Patrick Bateman? By being well read.

Whether visiting the ‘True Crime’ section of your local book store or merely perusing history books, there is no limitation to discovering the numerous ways and means in which humans have found to torment and murder one another. A simple visit to the Tower of London and a journey through its macabre museum of wax dummies, demonstrating the creative ways used to kill, is merely a small sampling of how the human imagination and our dark desire to hate and kill can make for the most perverse and repulsive results.

“At bottom, you see, we are not Homo sapiens as all,” said Stephen King, in a quote pulled from Goodreads.com. “Our core is madness. The prime directive is murder. What Darwin was too polite to say, my friends, is that we came to rule the earth not because we were the smartest, or even the meanest, but because we have always been the craziest, most murderous motherfuckers in the jungle...”

Now horror writers are often given a little more leeway when presenting violence, seeing as based on the genre, we accept that it could never be real. While a possessed car named Christine is highly entertaining, and her tale will keep you on the edge of your seat, we needn’t fear that we could run into that scenario in our everyday lives. Writing about the depravity and murderous desires of humankind, in the realm of serial killers, however, is possible, and God forbid could touch or cross our lives, if we’re unlucky enough that fate has that in store for us.

So how far do we take it? Do we try and sanitize it, keeping the killing in our thrillers and novels within the realms of acceptability, much like on TV shows like Bones, Criminal Minds, and many others too numerous to mention? Or did Bret Easton Ellis have it right? If you’re going to write about the ugliness of human’s do so with abandon—make the reader uncomfortable with the entertainment they have chosen for the evening. Is that not the writer’s obligation? Should not reading about murder make us uncomfortable?

I recently checked out a forum on Goodreads in which American Psycho was discussed. The general consensus was that the book was horrible...or should I say repulsive? The way I look at it, the book elicited strong reactions from those readers and there is no rule that says that art is only art and of value so long as it pleases. Like it or not, understand what the author was attempting or not, the fact it brought about such strong emotions, means the words on the page worked.

In a day and age where writing what he did could have gotten him executed, The Marquis de Sade elected to either purge or embrace his demons, depending on what your interpretation of his character is, if you’ve read any of the numerous biographies. In telling his story, Bret Easton Ellis decided not to censor himself, but to put the ugliness of his character on the printed page, pulling no punches, as they say.

I’ve faced the same dilemma, seeing how I’ve embraced the thriller genre as the core of my writing efforts. How far am I willing to go?

Growing up, I loved comedy. My heroes were John Belushi, Dan Aykroyd, Bill Murray and their contemporaries. If I could pen a script like Animal House, Stripes or Ghostbusters, making people laugh, I’d count that as a solid victory. And I do write comedy. Recently I’ve given two sketches to a producer and comedian to be filmed for their website and YouTube channel. I’ve also written several comedy scripts – the hardest of them all to write. As I recently said to a producer, it’s much easier to make someone cry than to make them laugh.

Despite the comedy that lurks within me, there also lies a darkness that I can’t explain, or at least a fascination with the dark nature of humans and what we’re capable of committing. The writings of The Marquis de Sade have inspired the current novel I’m writing, The Marquis Mark. In embracing that inspiration, I also promised myself that like the Marquis, and many others who have written words that have unnerved readers, I wouldn’t hold back, but dare to put the ugliness on the page. There are many moments during the process when I’ve been uncomfortable, and at least one chapter, that I hesitated to write as it pushed the boundaries of what I was comfortable with. I am not writing a book to shock, but embracing an idea that has been brewing in my mind for quite some time, and has finally decided it was time to be released.

The first draft of The Marquis Mark is almost finished, but it will be quite some time still before I can make it available. There are the inevitable re-writes to polish the manuscript; I’ve found the advice regarding putting a manuscript away for a period of time before revisiting it, is extremely helpful in making it ready for reader’s eyes. Whether it will ever find a readership, I can’t say, but if it does, and if in reading parts of it you find yourself feeling a little uncomfortable or challenged, please dear reader, don’t ask yourself how can the author write such things? How could is mind come up with such dark ideas? The truth is actually very simple, I’m well read.

In ending a blog on dark dreamers, it only seems fitting to quote one of the originals – if not the original – who unnerved his readers with his dark tales, Edgar Allen Poe: “There are moments when even to the sober eye of reason, the world of our sad humanity may assume the semblances of Hell.”

A Longstanding Inspiration

I'm not good at naming things. In my past life as a screenwriter, I could write the screenplay, but when it came to titling the project, Writer's Block would descend upon my thoughts and I'd come up blank. When confronted with naming my blog, I reacted like a deer caught in headlights.

What witty play on the word writing or author could I come up with? (That is assuming I am capable of witty thoughts).

The answer? None.

As I considered this dilemma, for some reason Abraham Lincoln came to mind. I'm not sure what grade I was in, but it was one of the earlier ones, that I came across a children's book recounting the life of the 16th President of the United States. The story of his allowing an elderly Native American to cross through his camp unmolested when he was a Captain in the Black Hawk War, inspired me, and I began seeking out books on the man, and still do to this day.

In exploring the life of Abraham Lincoln, eventually you're going to come across analysis of his writing (and, hopefully, you've also taken the time to read his scribblings). Lincoln was a master with words and is responsible for some brilliant speeches, including The Gettysburg Address.

Knowing this, it also dawned on me that he was a man of compassion. In the late 1970's I read Stephen B. Oates With Malice Toward None, a single volume biography of Lincoln. Oates picked out the perfect title to encapsulate Lincoln, a man who didn't want to gloat as the war came to an end, but wanted to rebuild America and repair the emotional damage that had divided the nation. With Malice Toward None are some powerful words.

And there I had the title for my blog. It pays respect to a brilliant man, and it also defines my own philosophy in life. As I hope I find the inspiration to continue to blog, I plan to be free in commenting - in conveying my opinion or thoughts. It is only one man's opinion, and while I know I've been wrong in the past (my wife has pointed this out), I do so with malice toward none, but the desire to contribute, maybe educate, hopefully inspire, but more importantly, learn a bit about myself, my strengths, my failings, and hopefully, simply entertain.

Write What You Know...Huh?

I don't know where I heard it, but at some point in my writing career I've heard the advice, "Write what you know."

Write what you know?

At face value it would appear to be good advice, that was until I sat down and considered what I knew.

During the course of my life experience, I know how NOT to make a million dollars. I know that an eulogy should never be presented through interpretive dance (but that's another story); I know when the wife and I are arguing I'm rarely right and she's never wrong (but you have to appreciate my spirit in going for it anyway).

I know that if I were to write what I knew, I could save a lot trees during the printing process.

The arrogance of youth has passed and I've come to realize, life isn't as black and white as I originally thought, and I'm not as sure as I used to be. So what to write?

What the hell did I really know?

What to write?

Hmm.

Unfortunately, three years ago, I watched a person  near and dear to me lose a battle to cancer (sadly, it's touched so many families). Throughout that battle, this man, demonstrated great courage. A lot happened during that two year battle, and many thought, as a writer, I should write about it. I realized, however, that my tale was not unique; unfortunately too many other families had been through what I had to differing degrees of difficulty, pain and suffering.

What I knew during this time was courage; a courage I had witnessed firsthand.

In the back of my mind, for several years, a story had been percolating - the story of an interracial love affair that ended in a 'honor killing' (I hate to use those two words as there is no honor in killing). I wanted to approach it from the perspective of the white male who falls in love with the Muslim woman only to discover some time after her death that it was rumored to be at the hands of her family because of her relationship with him, not as the result of a robbery.

The story had been percolating for quite some time, but just wouldn't form in my mind - come together as an idea that was ready to be told.

But I knew courage, because I had seen it. And while that was under different circumstances, I wondered if I could find the courage to put myself out there - something that made me extremely uncomfortable. It was then that the story finally came together.

I'm a participant in a interracial marriage. My wife and I were married in a beautiful Muslim ceremony. I used aspects of our early relationship in shaping Tripping on Tears. I decided that I would put a certain amount of myself into the thoughts and feelings of the unnamed male protagonist, who while recalling his love for Safia, is dealing with newfound feelings of hatred, and, yes, possibly even racism. I put a lot of myself in there, knowing that those who knew me would know what was fiction and what was not.

I also wanted to pay tribute to my parents, two exceptional individuals. So I put a lot about them in there. Tripping on Tears is a work of fiction, it is not completely autobiographical, but there are things in there that are, and that I felt uncomfortable putting out there (while no reader would know what's real and what's not, I still knew part of me was out there). It was in finding the courage to use aspects of my own life that I was able to finally embrace and write my first completed novel. It seemed  like a miracle. While I could rattle off a screenplay, I'd yet to finish a manuscript.

I'd done it, but, what next?

I felt I had accomplished something with Tripping on Tears, but what more could I write? I couldn't rely on me for all my material (I'm just not that interesting, and I used a lot of it in that first book).

"Write what you know."

I did with Tripping on Tears, to a degree. With The Merry Pranked, an out-and-out thriller I wrote what I didn't know. I've never sought revenge, nor have I ever found myself in a relationship with a serial killer (although I suspect during my dating days that I'd come close, you know what I mean? I'll bet women know even better, from their side of the dating equation).

With The Merry Pranked I just let my imagination guide me and tried to tell an interesting tale. But what I had learned, and what I knew was the courage to put stuff out there, whether I was comfortable with it or not. I used that for The Merry Pranked, and even more so with the new thriller I'm working on, The Marquis Mark. I found the courage to challenge myself as a writer and not settle; so much so that there are ideas and even chapters that I've written that have challenged me, especially in the new book I'm working on. I know while I love comedy, I also have a dark side, and I've tried not to censor myself. I figure if it challenges me during the writing or makes me cringe, hopefully that will translate into challenging the reader if I'm ever lucky enough to develop a reading audience.

I also know  that to counter balance the darkness of my imagination, I'm going to translate another feel-good, romance-based script I had written, Random Acts, into a novel. I know you're probably not supposed to, but I plan to play in at least two genres, while as I'm able to exorcise my demons in one, in the other I can embrace that which is more in line with the real easygoing, and hopefully, lovable me.

Sometimes the secret to writing is not writing what you know, but challenging yourself to write anyways and see where the words and ideas take you. I say write instead with courage. Embrace your thoughts and go for it; and don't be afraid in doing so, no matter what the genre, to bring a bit of yourself to one or two of the characters - just enough to bring the heart and soul to the character or characters that you  need and will hopefully engage the reader.

Of course, if you're an individual who knows a lot more than me (and I know there are a lot of you out there), well, then, I guess...write what you know.

A Social Media Hold-Out

I remember the days when you left your home, and for that time you were in transit, you were simply out of touch. It had its good points and its bad. On the good side, sometimes you just wanted to escape from the world - be out of touch. Of course, being alone with our thoughts can prove troublesome for some us and its best to remain distracted. On the bad side, I remember in my late teens waiting for a friend to come over to my house to pick me up for a night on the town. I was waiting outside, and he was taking forever. You see, back in those days, it never occurred to me to try and contact him; re-enter the house and call him to see if he'd left. I'd just assumed he was on his way and trusted in that assumption. As it turned out, on his way out the door, he said good-bye to his Mother and became engrossed in the movie she was watching and sat down to watch it. It never occurred to him to call my house and let me know, or tell someone to let me know, that he'd be running late. Back in those days, we didn't have easy access to phones, and reaching for one every second of the day, just wasn't something you did.

Today, if one is thinking of going into the medical profession, concentrating on being a neck and back or carpal tunnel specialist might be where the money is. Today's humanoid is walking around, with their head down and their thumbs wildly pounding away on the tiny keys of their cell phone, desperately in need to communicate with others every second of every day.

My generation?

Well, we had our heads up and were taking in the world. It's surprising to realize that the beauty of nature and architecture is all around you if you took your eyes away from that small digital screen and just took a minute to soak it all in.

This also brings up another point. I had friends growing up, as I hope we all did. For the life of me, I don't know what I could have said to those friends just about every minute of the day? At some point we were going to run out of things to text to one another. If the wife and I were in communication that often, sooner or later we'd run into the same problem. It's been over ten years now that we've been together, at some point we'd just have to look at one another and say, "You got anything else?" "Me too. All right, nice knowing you." My wife and I get along well, but I'm sure - and I don't hold it against her - that she enjoys her moments away from me; it also gives me a chance to take my foot out of my mouth and wash it in preparation for the next time I firmly place it back there.

I remember visiting my 14-year-old niece (I'm sure you know where this is going) and watching as she texted and communicated with a friend on Facebook. I made the observation that their conversation could move along faster if they'd just pick up a phone and communicate directly with one another. The look on her face said it all. I'm sure that at some point in my youth, when I thought I knew everything about everything, I gave my parents a similar look. She politely ignored my comment, but I'm sure whatever vernacular they use for "lame" or "dinosaur" these days passed through her digitally involved mind.

As a journalist, I often ran into individuals who would say to me, "You have to write a book about me; tell my story. Nobody would believe the life I've led." I firmly believed that while I'm sure their life was interesting to them, and I didn't begrudge them the belief that somehow they were more special than the rest of us, that their lives weren't really book worthy. I've had the displeasure of even reading some celebrity autobiographies where I felt their lives just weren't that interesting in the telling (sorry Pat Benatar, I am a fan), so I was willing to bet I was right in my assessment.

Facebook is the answer to the "You should write a book about me and my life" people. Facebook allows us all to put our lives online for others to see and share. (Okay, it's not just Facebook anymore, but I'm using them as representative of all social media sites and forums). I once saw my brother-in-law post, "Going for a coffee at Timmy's." Okay? You really felt compelled to take the time to write this out and post it before going to get a coffee? Did you really need to share that? I know it didn't affect the rest of my evening, although I was a little perplexed for a while.

Okay, okay, hold your horses! I know social media, Twitter, Facebook and such has its good and useful side. It's a great way for family members, who have spread out all over the globe to keep in touch with one another, and I'm a sure other purposes I'm not going into here, but it also has the danger of allowing us to put too much of ourselves and our lives online for others to see. Shouldn't there be a little mystery in life?

I recently heard a radio talk show where it was suggested that the first place prospective employers go to check up on applicants is Linkedin. I'm sure Facebook is not far behind. They want to match up your resume with what you have on Linkedin. It was also suggested that if you didn't have a profile up that was seen as suspect.

Suspect?!

Maybe some of us have just come to the conclusion that we're just not that interesting and don't want to go online to advertise that fact. I mean, I personally think I'm interesting, but I could probably pull together a group of friends and associates who could argue the opposite...and in a compelling way.

So, now I've written two books and am working on the next. Who the hell is David Rusk? I'm a nobody. And I'm not really a nobody wanting to be a somebody. I live a life where there are always stories and characters living in my mind, and hopefully, unlike mine, they have interesting lives that deserve to be captured in a book. If I can entertain people by doing that, by sharing these stories, that is all that matters. It nice to see one's imagination come to life and touch others lives, if that is in fact, where I'm heading. I don't want to put my life online, but it turns out, to promote my books, and build an audience, I'm expected to embrace social media.

So I've come to my compromise.

I'm Twittering and I'm blogging, and whatever else I have to do. In doing so, I've also seen the benefit of 'friending' some interesting people that a normal life would never have allowed me to meet. But I've also decided that I'm still boring. While I've allowed some personal stuff to sneak by me, for the most part I want to inform or entertain. The characters in my mind have always been more interesting than me, so, hopefully, that insanity that exists there, will take me into the 21st century, help me shake off the chains of my Luddite ways, and see and embrace the beauty of being a social media maniac. I'm here now, and while I know I'm late to the party, that's really not surprising if you really knew me.

And, as to whether my life story is worth telling in a book, if I ever do get around to writing an autobiography, it's going to be the first unauthorized autobiography ever written.

The Will Smith Delusion

Once upon a time in Hollywood I had a psychological-horror-thriller script floating around Los Angeles. This script was well developed and had grabbed the attention of quite a few, including one production studio (whom I won't name for legal reasons, although this tale is true) who contacted me to ask if I'd write a script for them, based on their having read Deadly Focus. Of course, I was flattered.

The first project was a fantasy tale called Salem - a Twilight with witches. Normally not part of my usual writing fare, but instead a challenge, my first instinct was to say 'No,' but I didn't. Instead, I said, 'Sure.' What I thought would be hard to write, turned out to be one of the easiest scripts I ever wrote. I did have help from a treatment provided by the producer, but, I couldn't stick completely to it, as it wasn't a solid treatment, the flow of the story working throughout it. I find that as you write a story, it will take on a life of its own and demand to be taken in the direction it insists on going.

I was proud of Salem, but got very little feedback from the producer, and still don't know where it stands. What I liked most about it, was I left my comfort zone and wrote something I normally wouldn't have thought of writing. In that regard, I felt I'd accomplished something whether it ever got made or not.

Time passed. I hadn't heard from this producer, and I really didn't spend any time pestering him about the project. I figured if it ever moved ahead, I'd hear from him. Eventually I did.

He needed a thriller. He called me and said he was in a bind. He needed a script for a meeting with Will Smith's production company, Overbrook (I don't know if that's accurate, I was taking his word for it and never looked up the name of Will's production company).

The catch?

He needed it in seven days! Not a meeting next month or six weeks from now, no, he needed it in seven days. Actually, if you think about it, he'd need it in six days, as I'm sure he'd wanted some time to read through it before the meeting.

My first reaction? Sorry, no can do.
But then I thought about it. It was a challenge, wasn't it? I have an actor friend and he told me the first rule in acting was if you're in an audition with a casting director or producer and they ask you if you can ride a horse and you can't, the proper response is, "Yes, I can." If you're asked if you can ice skate, the answer is "Yes." If you're asked if you can perform open heart surgery, the answer is "Yes." Your job as an actor is to get the job and then rush out and learn how to ride a horse, ice skate and perform open heart surgery as fast as you can.

I took that advice to heart. So, I said, "Yes," I can write his script in seven days. After all, he was going to provide me with a complete story by way of a treatment. I'd have to fill in some of the blanks, but it should all be there. Then the treatment arrived.

Unlike the Salem treatment, this one was unworkable; it just didn't make sense. Over the years as a entertainment writer, reviewing films, and not just the good ones but the bad ones ('B,' 'C,' 'D,' and 'Z' films), I didn't realize it at the time, but I had learned a lot about story structure and pacing by watching movies where both were atrocious; it was kind of like osmosis. I knew right away, his idea was un-writable.

I could give up the idea, or I could fix the problem. I decided to fix it. As far as I know, the thriller was for a meeting with Overbrook in regards to a role for Will Smith. I don't believe he's starred in any thrillers, a genre that would be new to him. He needed an interesting character if he was going to be interested in filming the project, so I came up with his character, a journalist contemplating revenge, several decades later; in his childhood he witnessed his entire family being slaughter by four men, one of them who is now the leading crime boss in his city. This event has affected his entire life, and all of his relationships. I also knew I wanted a very strong female protagonist for him to play off of, and figured this would be a solid role for a young actress; she wouldn't be there just to be his love interest, but integral to the storyline. She also happened to be, in my mind, a serial killer.

I threw out what the producer sent me and wrote an original story; I wrote it in six days, some of which involved fighting a bout of bronchitis; I do remember some moments of delirium, but I got it done. I sent it off and was met with rejection. The producer didn't like it. By this time I was aware that when he hired a writer he wanted them to just translate his ideas and treatments, verbatim into scripts. The problem was, he was young and just learning the craft himself, and the ideas just didn't stand up. I believe in hiring professionals and trusting them. With Salem I captured the spirit of what he wanted, and if he looked close enough I actually stayed truer to the treatment, just shuffling stuff around, and adding to it to make it better.
With the thriller, The Merry Pranked, yes, I had to throw away the entire idea and start from scratch. I had to give him an original idea I came up with on my own. It was simply necessary. I didn't hear from him for quite some time.

But he did call again.

This time he had a historical drama he needed writing, entitled The Slave Girl. It was an interracial romance between a plantation owner's son and a slave girl. Luckily, I'm an avid reader of the Civil War time period, and was in the right one to write such a script. Of course, he told me the script was being written for Will Smith's Overbrook production company with the lead role of the slave girl to be played by his daughter.

I really didn't care. I wasn't writing anything at that particular time, and an historical drama seemed like a challenge. This time, the treatment, like the treatment for Salem, was pretty good, although it did have a few things in it that were historically inaccurate and just wouldn't have happened in that time period. I strove to stay as close to the treatment as possible, knowing the producer's predilections, but still had to create a whole new character and take some liberties to make it work. I wanted to be true to the time and write a film that if historians watched it, they'd say, "Not bad." I believe I accomplished that and the reaction from the producer led me to believe he thought it was brilliant (I don't get that often, so I'll take it when it comes my way, whether I deserve it or not).

While writing The Slave Girl, I finally decided to look up Will Smith's daughter on the Internet. A fine-looking young lady, but at the time I believe a 13-year-old fine looking young lady. Based on the treatment requirements and what I'd written, there was no way she'd be playing the lead role. It was an interracial love story, with not a lot, but definitely some sexual scenes. I realized I couldn't be writing this script for Will Smith's daughter. Nonetheless, the idea was alive in my head, and I was enjoying writing it, so I finished it, and actually completed a second and third draft before it appears it was put in turnaround by the producer.
As far as I know, nothing came of Salem; recently I've seen a director attached to The Slave Girl, and one unknown actor cast, so maybe it's being taken out of mothballs, dusted off, and being developed. I hope so; it's a great tale and I think it would make a great movie.

The Merry Pranked?

Well, I loved my delirium written thriller so much so, that I turned it into a novel, writing it right after I'd finished my first novel, Tripping on Tears. Writing it in novel form, I was able to add to the story and turn it into a novel I liked even better than the screenplay. So, I guess in a way, I have Will Smith to thank for my novel. As I reflect back on everything, I really don't believe I was ever writing anything for him, his daughter or his company, and had my doubts at the time. What I liked was the challenge of pulling off these scripts, even when I didn't think I could.

All of this also helped push me to writing novels. There's a beauty in not having to deal with producers, especially producers who think they're writers. And while I've made this change in my approach to writing, I'm sure somewhere in the future there'll be a call from this producer and once again Will Smith and Overbrook are going to need a script they don't even know they need...and maybe...if I'm crazy, I'll once again jump into my Will Smith Delusion.

The Power of Constructive Criticism

In my younger days, I never truly appreciated the strength of words. Like everyone, I took the ability to write (whether I did it well or not) for granted. I took a lot of things for granted that I now understand I shouldn't have, but that's another story. I could write well enough, but I failed to appreciate writing, and really didn't give it much thought.

If several of my English high school teachers knew I've been making a living as a writer over the past couple of decades they'd no doubt be waiting for Ashton Kutcher to emerge from the shadows letting them know they'd been Punk'd. Of course that would lead to the question as to why Ashton was punking me, as he only Punk'd famous people and I definitely don't qualify (as you can see the questions would keep piling up, so let's move on).

As a journalist I was taught a specific way to write, whether I was approaching a news story or a feature story. Most of us who studied journalism thought it was a great idea; we could make a living writing as we pursued our dreams of becoming novelists. Unfortunately, journalism training doesn't lend itself to writing creative fiction.

Along the way, while having tried to write several novels (like many, I left a trail of four, five, or six chapter uncompleted manuscripts in my wake), I fell into screenwriting, working for indie producers - actually my first, a Bollywood producer.

My first attempts on my own seemed to resemble films I'd seen. I can recall a Terminator-like character in one poorly written effort. I mean, c'mon, who was going to notice my lack of originality, right? It wasn't until Floating Stones, an interracial love story that I was truly challenged. It wasn't my idea, but the producers, and I wrote it after discussing the details with him. All in all, Floating Stones went through 17 drafts, with many of the late drafts a matter of simply changing a few words. At the time it was a painful process. Each time I heard from the producer and he wanted some changes, I wanted to scream, but I didn't. I actually listened, considered and then took action. I discovered his constant analysis improved the script - polished it as they would say.

It was in working with indie producers that I discovered the value of constructive criticism. Rather than blindly believing my first draft was perfect (because my Mom said I was special and could do anything I set my mind to and my Mom never lied!), I learned over the years to analyze a piece of writing, and make changes when changes were needed. I also learned how to defend the writing, when terrible changes were recommended that would ruin the piece.

Over the years, I've written well over 30 screenplays. Some of them were my own ideas, many of them - the majority - were others. Some even got made into really small indie films (don't bother looking, when I say small, I mean small). I've gotten really good at writing screenplays and tried to help others. What I found was a reluctance to re-write - a reluctance to take criticism. Everyone who asked if I could read their stuff only wanted me to read it and then tell them that they were brilliant and nothing needed changing. It's very rare that even the most talented writer gets it in the first draft.

I bring this up, as I had participated briefly in a long running thread in which writers were debating "Is everyone a writer?" A few in the thread have attacked the quickly posted manuscript; the manuscript that the writer created an eBook out of, without any rewrites or true editing to polish it. Anyone who states that these books are sloppy are discounted as elitist, but they're not.

What I've found over the years is you have to work at writing and that's not just spelling and grammar, but also story structure and flow. Writing is serious business and it takes effort. I believe that writing is in the re-writing. While its always nice to slap the words "The End" on a manuscript and move on to the next exciting idea, force yourself to re-write and re-analyze and you'll see your work is the better for it.

In my youth, I was arrogant enough to believe what I was writing was perfect and didn't need changing. I was lucky in that I didn't resist the criticism of others, but went with the flow. I've seen how my work and my abilities have improved over the years. In my twenties I could not have written a proper book, nor in my thirties - I wasn't that good. It's taken a lot of effort, and a non existent ego, to help me improve and get to the point where I can now hold my head high and throw my hat into the ring with some confidence.

Writing is a wonderful gift, but as you know, some gifts come with assembly and not all instructions are easy to comprehend or follow. If I can offer any advice about writing - and, really, there's no reason why anyone should take any advice from me - it's take the time to understand that gift and the assembly required; don't believe you know it all. Always challenge yourself, and most importantly, learn to recognize constructive criticism when it's offered. You'll soon discover that you're challenging yourself and writing on a whole new level.

And as for those high school English teachers? Sorry guys, pack a parka, because it seems like Hell has frozen over.

The Characters in My Head...I Don’t Believe I’m Crazy

I’m not going to say what came first, the voices in my head or my desire to write?

Possibly I turned to writing as a way of justifying those voices in my head, because if you can’t, they tend to want to lock you away. In that same vein, I am hoping to become independently wealthy one day, as if you’re poor and insane they lock you up; if you’re rich and insane you’re merely eccentric and everyone puts up with you.

I’ve been writing for a long time, and it should be known, it was a slow start. If I go back and revisit some of those early scribbling, aside from eliciting a cringe or two, I can clearly see I was easily influenced by the latest films I saw or books I read. There was a sprinkling of originality to aspects of the idea, but overall, I’d yet to find my voice or my imagination.

Interested in writing, I did spend a lot of time reading interviews by writers; curious to see how they approached their work (I still do, finding it inspirational, even if I don’t take the same approach). Writers are individuals, so I knew there was no copying their process, but I was walking down dark corridors trying to find my way. What I didn’t realize at the time was that I’d yet to develop my writer’s mind.

During those early stages, I could write, reasonably well (although not well enough at the time to be published) and I could think, but that was what my writing was – thinking. I was too aware of what I was doing and why I was doing it. In one sense, I was exploring, which was good, but I was also in some cases forcing it, and had yet to realize, especially for me, that that wasn’t the approach that was going to work.

I took the advice of some writers I read interviews with and planned out one novel from start to finish but found I couldn’t finish writing it. Actually, I didn’t even get through half of it. I didn’t know it at the time, but because it was all mapped out and I knew how the story was going to end, I lost interest in writing it (or maybe the idea just wasn’t worth writing in the first place).

I then read an interview with Stephen King in which he stated he didn’t know he was going to kill a particular character in one of his books (name withheld in case you’re going to read the book in the future) that he didn’t think was going to die. Apparently the story just took him in that direction. I decided to approach writing without a road map, and somehow it worked for me, although each time I sit down to write, I live in fear that this will be the one time in which it won’t work. I believe that fear helps drive me forward.

I’d found my method of writing, but still my writer’s imagination hadn’t kicked in quite yet. I know that now, but I didn’t know that at the time. The truth is I don’t know when my writer’s imagination kicked in. At the time I was specializing in writing screenplays, which I became very good at, due to time, effort and listening to others more experienced than me and not being offended when they told me it needed a re-write, it just wasn’t up to snuff at the moment. In time, I became that person telling that to others and trying to help. At some point in my writing career, I was no longer thinking about what I needed to write in the way I had previously been; at some point the stories I was writing and the characters that inhabited them started to come to life and speak to me; no, nothing like, “Hey, Dave, seeing as you’re writing me, could you give me a little more hair and maybe not kill me off in chapter ten? Thanks, bro.” They didn’t talk directly to me, but they came to life in my imagination and in my dreams, and seemed to know where their story was going and what needed to be done next. Even now when I write, if I’m stuck, I know all I need to do is wait it out, give the characters of my latest story time to find their way and when they’re ready they’ll let me know. It doesn’t happen a lot, but when I’m stuck and they finally to talk to me, it is an “Aha!” moment.

I remember a New Year’s Eve with friends I hadn’t seen in a long time. Everyone had embraced their lives and were happy; I’d been writing for a time, doing the starving artist routine on and off for years, and while there was a sense that they didn’t know what I was doing with my life and why I bothered, I walked away from that party wondering how they could go about their daily lives without some story and characters lurking in their mind leading them on what would become a wondrous journey – a journey that could only be captured with words.

Along with finding my writer’s imagination, I also discovered my voice and my own originality as a writer (or, at least, as original as we can be considering the long history of the literary world). Over that time in screenplays, I’ve lived the life of a 20-year-old South Asian woman who longs to go back to India and develop a career as a Bollywood star in the screenplay, Sharma’s Karma. As a 40-plus English-Irish white dude, that was a wonderful character to become lost in. That was also an eye-opener because I realized my imagination had developed to the point where I could inhabit specific characters and realize them on the page effectively. I’ve become both a Plantation owners son who has fallen in love with a Slave in The Slave Girl, a 16-year-old witch dealing with the fallout of the Salem Witch Trials a year after they’ve finished in the fantasy script, Salem, and so much more.

Along the way, I’ve come to care about some of these characters. I guess I’m not revealing anything when I mention that Safia is murdered in my novel Tripping on Tears, as the book is about an honor killing. The story came easily to me and flowed, but at one point I seemed to hit a brick wall. I was stuck, and I didn’t know why. This lasted for a week, and I finally figured it out. I’d been enjoying writing about the romance between Safia and the Narrator, so much that I didn’t want it to end. I was at the point where Safia had to die and I wasn’t ready for her to die and I didn’t want to type the words killing off this character to whom I’d come to love. I pushed forward and did it, but like with other writings, I also realized the price I’d pay for this imagination and this gift of having these characters inhabit my mind; sometimes it didn’t always work out for them.

Presently I’m working on another thriller, The Marquis Mark. Presently I’m living with a character who I don’t particularly like. There are other characters in the novel that help balance this out, but this one particular character keeps challenging me, prompting me to write scenes that make me uncomfortable, some that make me cringe. I hate him, but his story has decided to be told, his story coming to life in my mind, and any attempts to ignore it, will be useless. My imagination never promised me that it would always be a bed of roses.

Over the years, I have learned a lot about writing, and I find myself blessed that these stories come to me and dominate me as they do. Good or bad, I’m glad these characters bless me with their presence and compel me to tell their stories. They’ve brought me joy and they’ve made me question their actions; whether I like them or not, they’re there and I wouldn’t have it any other way. They live with me for quite some time, and then, eventually, I have to write “The End” and they must leave, leaving me with a feeling of having lost a friend, or in most cases a group of friends. Luckily, following behind them are other characters that have something to say, and as long as I’m open to hear their tale, we form a partnership and go about the task of bringing them to life on the printed page.

Now I welcome the voices and it really doesn’t matter which came first, the writing or the voices; I just hope neither of them decide to leave me – ever.

Reeding and Ritening...Is Everybody a Writer?

I love writing and over the years I've taken great care to learn the craft. I wasn't always as good as I am today, although at this time, if I'm to be honest, I probably thought I was. In past blog's I've discussed the craft of writing in regards to my development, noting that I developed within the craft by taking the hard criticisms leveled at me at one time, and instead of becoming offended that someone wasn't saying I was brilliant, realizing I could do better and pushing myself to do so.

Everyone can write. We learn the basic skills in school. But should everyone be published? This question has also made me uncomfortable, and the topic was one I swore I'd stay away from, for fear of offending some. I didn't want to appear elitist. I should also note that despite the fact I believe I've risen to the level of being publishable, and have received encouragement in that regards from some in the industry, I believe we're never as good as we can be and should always be striving to improve our skills.

So, why am I addressing this topic now?

I recently paid too much attention to a thread on a social media site where the questions was asked, "Is everyone a writer?" The thread went on forever, and the one thing I did note was from time to time when someone suggested, yes, everyone can write, but not everyone should publish, that quality of work should be a factor, they were quickly shot down. Dare anyone believe that there should be a social contract between the writer and reader in regards to quality? I've posted two books on Amazon-Kindle and, yes, I'm asking readers to buy them. It's not an outrageous sum that I'm asking, but it is still a portion of the reader's hard-earned money that they don't want to throw away or waste. As a writer, if I'm asking for your dollars, as well as your time, do I not have an obligation to ensure that I'm putting out a professional product? Of course, I do.

Aside from that thread, I was also recently sent an eBook by one of the many sites popping up looking to capitalize on the self-publishing eBook revolution. They claim to be the equivalent of a real publisher with the same standards for publishing. What little I read of this one author wasn't anywhere near those standards, as I understand them. And it's here that I'm uncomfortable. Who the  hell am I to say that?

Who the hell am I?

I'm a lifetime reader, so, I guess, whether I write or not, I'm allowed that opinion and expect a certain standard to be met and executed by those writer's I commit my time and money to.

Having developed as a screenwriter, I'm a stickler for knowing the basics. For instance, one page of a screenplay is believed to equal one minute of screen time (it's not an exact science but that's the rule). As such, a screenplay should be no less than 90 pages in length and no longer than 120 pages (unless you've all ready established yourself and can get away with writing a two-and-a-half-hour or three-hour movie). Your screenplay also has to be formatted correctly and the font a specific size. I had a friend who read screenplays for a Casting Agent and he told me the first thing he did was open the screenplay and see if it was formatted properly, then flip to the last page and see how long it was. If it was 130 or 140-plus pages, he'd just toss it in the garbage. The thinking was, if the writer hadn't bothered to research what was or wasn't proper or acceptable, chances are the screenplay wasn't worth reading.

There are expectations in the book writing world also. I discovered there is a format Agents and Publishers prefer when looking at a manuscript, and that in reading books by new authors they expect a minimum of 80,000 words and no more than 120,000 words (word count can differ based on type of book; Young Adult Fiction doesn't have to be 80,000 words, but less) This is the comfort zone for adult fiction. I bring this up as the eBook I was sent was only 40,000 words. Despite being horribly written, by the standards of the industry it was 40,000 words short of being considered a full-length novel. (I should note that in scanning it I did come across a sex scene. There is something disturbing about reading a poorly written sex scene that seems unreal and comic at the same time).

Now, I applaud the writer for actually sitting down and writing those 40,000 words. I know a lot of people who claim they want to be writers but never actually sit down and write anything. I wasn't meant to read this eBook, but take note of the formatting, but I can't help but consider the disservice we're giving the writer by allowing him to think what he wrote was publishable. Will he even improve if there's no Editor or Publisher pushing him and holding him to a standard? At least someone saying, it's got potential, but it's not ready yet; take another run at it.

The truth is, writing is hard. It's something you have to work at and develop. I'm Canadian (eh?) so I'll use the analogy of hockey here. Everyone can play hockey to differing degrees of ability. All you need is a ball and a hockey stick and you're playing. Now, some of us play hockey well; we have skills, but put us up against a professional hockey player who has truly learned the craft and he'll run circles around us. As good as we think we are, there's a difference between professional and the minor leagues; good in the minor leagues, even great in the minor leagues, isn't always good enough for the majors.

Writing is the same. First off, if you're going to write books or screenplays, along with being able to string sentences together, you need to learn the craft of story structure and plotting/pacing. You're also going to discover that a first draft is rarely perfect. Writing is in the re-writing, the editing and the re-writing. Polishing a book takes time and effort. The book like the one I mentioned above, I suspect, was probably an unpolished first draft. I'm like any other writer, once I've finished a first draft and fully mined that idea, it's exciting to move on to the next idea, but like I said, if you're asking a reader to spend time with your work and spend money on it, there is a social contract where your duty is to put out the best, most professional product possible (and, yes, even if you do this, there will be those who still won't like it, but at least not because it was a half-assed effort).

The final thing that prompted me to write this blog was looking on Craigslist and other sites and seeing how little those who need writing value it. If you're advertising that you need a writer, I assume it's because you can't write at a professional level. Nonetheless, you believe those with that skill should write for you for free or for so little money it's insulting. What this tells me is that writing and the ability to do it well is a highly under-appreciated talent. Maybe that is why there are a lot of writers just publishing without worrying about holding themselves to a certain standard.

I'd say just about everything we do well in life is the result of developing that skill. Presently a great deal of under-developed skills is crowding the self-publishing eBook marketplace. I say write, for God's sake, WRITE! If you all ready have that spark, that's great, but push yourself; learn the craft and don't settle until you've spent enough time in the minor leagues that you're now ready to join the major league and put out work that readers will gladly spend both their time and money on. We need standards, as we also need to respect the written word and its power to entertain, move and enrich the lives of those of us who enjoy losing ourselves in the various worlds and characters we stumble across.

And, as for me?

Am I just being an elitist jerk? Who the hell said I've successfully made that leap into the major leagues, and deservedly so?!

I guess, in time, the reader will tell me. All I can say in my defense is I've done my homework, I've put in the time, and I've endured the criticism to get to the point where I feel I can confidently honour my end of that social contract and entertain the reader. I look forward to the readers letting me know if I've succeeded.