Rabbit Holes

I fell down a rabbit hole this last week.

It’s now a week later, and I’m just now climbing out, covered in all the things I’ve found, eyes bleary from staring at my monitor.

I don’t even know what happened.

One day I was on Facebook, and stumbled across a random post. The next thing I know, I’m googling it and digging deeper and deeper into the subject matter. And now it’s a week later. I have a brand new story in mind and so many cool ideas to work with.

For now I’m going to be a little vague, because this is something that’s still developing.

I just want to ask the other writers out there: what do you do when feel like you’ve practically been struck by lighting? The most random thing crosses your path and suddenly you have the inspiration to create something new.

Never mind what you’ve already been working on.

This new story is like a wild animal trying to claw it’s way out of you. It has to be written. And it has to be written NOW.

What do you do?

Do you drop everything and focus on it? Or do you force it back down and continue with what you’re working on?

Right now, I’m at a loss. I honestly don’t know what to do. This story has invaded my thoughts and has influenced everything that I’ve read, watched, or listened to over the past week. I’m in full-on research mode. I’m even a day late on this blog post because I’ve been too busy reading to actually take the time and come up with something to write about.

But I can’t just keep dropping my projects to jump onto something new. At this rate, I’ll never finish anything.

I need input. What should I do?

Show and Tell Time

I’ve been having a debate with myself.

More like an argument.

I’ve been going around and around in my head for the past week, trying to decide whether or not to actually share some writing with you.

I know, I know. I said that I would be sharing what I’ve actually written in the near future. But I’ve been wondering if I should share this particular piece with anyone.

Here is why.

When I first started saying I wanted to become a writer, I had an idea for a novel. I worked on it for months. Researching. Outlining. And I actually got pretty far writing it. But I needed to take a break. Why?

Well, I won’t go into specifics, but it’s a story centered around some well-known murders in the early 1980’s. It’s a decidedly dark story. After months of living in this world, I really needed to work on some lighter fare. So I put it on a shelf, with a promise to myself that I would revisit it at a time when I am better at writing, and when I’m ready to delve back into the darkness that surrounded it.

What I need from you, is to remember that I wrote this four years ago, and that is a first draft, which I like to lovingly call a “vomit pass.” This is me just getting words on the screen.

So, if you think it’s horrible trash, remember that I’ve improved since then. If you really like it, just think, I’ve improved since then.

What you’ll get today is the first section of a chapter. And for the next few weeks I will post another section of the chapter with each entry.

I really hope you like it.

---

 

Chapter 4

March 17, 1985

Rosemead, CA

It had been almost ninth months since his first time. Nine months of reliving and relishing that one single moment.

He didn’t even know what had happened to push him over the edge. Her window had been an open invitation. Begging him to enter. All he had wanted to do was find something he could sell. Some small trinket, a ring, a necklace. Maybe two. He needed the money. Coke was getting expensive and he wanted more.

But she had nothing. No jewelry. No trinkets. Nothing worth his time.

He had almost left empty-handed. Angry. An apparition exiting as silently as he had entered.

But she had stirred. Caught his attention. In that moment of anger, he had realized he needed an outlet.

She would become his outlet. And, oh, how he had enjoyed it.

Since then, he had gone to ground, being extra careful to stay out of sight. Silently he wallowed in his one memory.

All this time had passed now, and yet, no one had come looking for him. He had watched the news, read through newspapers. There was no description of a suspect. Nothing gave him any indication that he was being sought after.

Gradually, he began to emerge from his solitude, like an alligator pushing his eyes up through the surface of murky waters. Gliding along ever stealthily, he was now looking for more.

More.

The memory of that first time had grown stale in his mind. He needed something new, something fresh. New memories. Better memories.

This time, he knew what he was looking for. There would be no time wasted looking for trinkets. This time, he was prepared.

As he watched from the shadows, beneath the brim of his AC/DC baseball cap, his hand slipped down to adjust the small object that weighed down the back of his pants. A small caliber gun lay nestled in the small of his back. Waiting, just as he was, for its next moment.

This time he was more prepared. There would be no dinky little knife tonight. He knew what he was after. He wasn’t out looking for some trinket to take. Not tonight. He wanted to take something a bit more substantial.

He wanted to take a life.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Memento

I just watched Memento for the first time. I’m still sitting here trying to wrap my head around it.

I’m not sure what I was doing in 2000, when Memento was released, but somehow I completely missed its arrival in theaters.

Then, somehow, I kept missing it for 15 years after.

I saw it in my DVD collection, shamefully still wrapped in plastic. I skimmed past it when it showed up on Netflix, adding it to my queue, but never taking the time to press play. Each time I’d see it, I’d think, maybe I should watch it.

Ultimately, it was the announcement last week that there was going to be a remake of the groundbreaking film, and the resounding, expletive laden “NO” coming from the internet that finally forced me sit down and watch it.

Don’t ask me why this is what finally convinced me to watch Memento, because I can’t explain it either.

What I can say is this: from the opening scene, played in reverse, to the final shot of Guy Pierce skidding to a halt in front of the tattoo parlor, I was enthralled.

Who would have thought that a movie like Memento would work? This is a movie where half of the story is moving backwards, while the other half is moving in the right direction, with scenes leapfrogging each other, finally intersecting at the end.

What really has me confused is trying to figure out how Christopher Nolan wrote this. I know it’s based on his brother, Jonathan’s, story called Memento Mori. But did he write out the the entire story in sequence, and then scramble it? Or did he write it out exactly as it played out in the movie?

I can’t imagine the late nights and headaches the script must have caused. I know I could take a lesson from the Nolans.

I really hope this rumored remake is abandoned like so many other stories in Hollywood. Some things are better left alone.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to dive back into my shame pile.

NaNoWriMo: Point of No Return

This weeks’ update will only be a brief one.

Why?

Because right now, it’s 11:42 PM on Sunday, November 15th. We have now hit the halfway point of NaNoWriMo 2015.

It’s all downhill from here, right?

I’ve spent the better part of this past weekend hiding out in my garage pecking away on this keyboard and staring at this monitor. I don’t think I can last much longer.

I’m looking at my list of things I need to get done and wondering what I’ve accomplished this month.

There have been phone calls, emails, and text messages between me and my writing partner. There have been meetings with people who are “in-the-know” with the Hollywood television industry. We are pushing forward on the pilot, and at the same time working on the outline of a story that will hopefully span multiple seasons. When, and if, this show gets picked up, it can’t be a story that runs out of steam after a few episodes, and then spends the rest of its time struggling.

I’m looking at you, 24 Season One.

Seriously, go re-watch it. Episode 12 sees the story being wrapped up neatly, if not a little too prematurely. And then the next 12 episodes are just a mishmash of unexplained amnesia, mountain lions, and Dennis Hopper doing the worst eastern European accent ever caught on film. Rumor has it, the showrunners weren’t confident the show would get renewed beyond it’s original 12 episode order. Because of this, they only mapped out those first episodes. When FOX decided to pick up the full 24 episodes, the writers had to scramble to come up with the rest of the season.

Oops. That is my worst nightmare.

I’ve also dug up my old box of index cards. These cards served as outlines for the stories I lost when my computer crashed. These have all been reentered into their corresponding Scrivener project files, and backed up, for good measure. Now, to just get back to writing out the stories so I can finish them.

So, now there are two weeks left in the month. It’s crunch time.

I have so much more to do.

I need to go to bed before I turn into this…

Hey! You Look Famous. Read This!

I had an interesting day yesterday.

As I’ve mentioned before, one of the projects that I’m working on is a TV show with my writing partner, Andrew, from Chicago.

We met three years ago through a mutual Facebook friend and hit it off immediately. Early on, we discovered that we both love writing. He’s a poetry man, and I’m more into prose.

Nine months ago, he came to me with a proposal.

He had a story in mind. He wanted to take this story and create a television show with it. He wanted help. For some strange reason, he wanted my help.

I was skeptical at first. I live in Southern California, about an hour north of Hollywood. The closer you get to the epicenter of the entertainment industry, the more people you run across with some idea for a story, some script they want to sell, or an unnatural desire to be rich and famous. I’ve heard some random ideas that will just make you shake your head and steer clear of a person.

As he started telling me more about this story, I realized that he had something special. I really wanted to be a part of this project.

I wasn’t exactly sure how much help I’d be able to offer though. My qualifications for developing a television show is nothing more than watching TV and yelling at it for some glaring plot hole or bonehead decision a character makes. I had never written a script. And, to this day, I consider dialogue to be one of my biggest weaknesses. I figured a script was just people talking back and forth, right?

I have no idea what process professional writers go through to develop TV show. Neither does he. So we just talked about it. Every once in a while we’d chat about cool scenes we’d like to see, different character ideas, different shows that we love to watch that would become an inspiration for us. We spent time on the phone, on Skype, talking through emails, Facebook Messenger, Google Hangouts.

I’m not sure exactly when it happened, but things started getting serious. A story was starting to form. Characters were developing. Plot twists were being planned. It started to look like we actually have something.

As he continued to developed the story, I started writing.

Last week, Andrew moved to LA and we decided to meet in person for the first time. That was yesterday. We were going to go over whatever we had at the moment and refine it. So for the first time, I printed out the unfinished script as it stood.

Now, this is a feeling that is new to me. Up until now, most of my work has been on the computer screen. I’ve written numerous things, but for now they remain just 0’s and 1’s in a computer.

Although it’s nowhere near complete, having a good portion of the pilot script printed and resting in my hands is a high that I will chase forever.

It hit me.

This is real.

We’ve devoted months of our lives to something and we actually have something to show for it.

I’m seriously getting excited.

I don’t know what is going to happen with this project. Whether it will crash and burn, or if someone will see that special something that we see in it remains to be seen. All I know is this is the closest I’ve ever come to actually writing and completing something that I’m very proud of.

As far as I’m concerned, this has been a highly educational experience, and something that I’m realizing that I want to continue.

We are now officially Hollywood stereotypes. I can’t wait to try to figure out a way to slip some famous person a script. I don’t care if it doesn’t work. I just want to be able to say that I did it. Once.

So please wish us luck, or for the breaking of our legs, whatever the custom is.

Why would you want someone to break their leg anyway? Whatever…

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to dive back into my shame pile