Treats

Today I came home from Film History (after watching The Man Who Knew Too Much, a thoroughly enjoyable Hitchcock) and proceeded to sleep. Nothing could wake me: not the phone ringing, not Darin on the phone, not the presence of a stranger fluffing and folding. (Yes, the cleaning lady returned.) Finally Darin said, "Time to get up."

We spent a couple of hours beginning the job of tidying the last, untamed morass in the house. We did about four square feet and considered ourselves pretty damn content. Tomorrow, before I jet off to another class, we're supposed to do more. So tomorrow night, rather than stay on campus and see the free film (Murder at 1600) I'm going to write.

I'm actually pretty psyched about writing -- come hell or high water, I'm entering something in the Nicholl this year.

After tidying for a bit we both declared we were too hungry to continue and so began searching for a place to go. Darin wanted to cook, but then he'd have to find a recipe, go shopping, cook...it'd take too long. So he cracked open The Eclectic Gourmet's Guide To Los Angeles and found a couple of places that sounded good.

Then I said, "How about that little Cajun place I told you about?" I walked past this place a couple of months ago in downtown Burbank, and I always wanted to return, but I never ate out alone. Now Darin, fine gourmet that he is, was here, so we should try it.

Cafe N'awlins is a tiny place: more than half the restaurant is the cooking/preparation area, the rest consists of four tiny tables for 2. It opened about nine months ago, and already it's expanding into the storefront next door, the better to allow more than 2 people to eat together. We walked into an empty restaurant; within five minutes (I exaggerate not) the place was completely filled. Bummer if you walk by and all four tables are full.

Darin had the very blackened fish (redfish?) and gumbo and I had the Sampler with jambalaya, gumbo, and shrimp creole. As Darin (who sampled my Sampler) put it: that's the best damn shrimp creole we've had anywhere. This place is that good. We topped everything off with sweet potato and pecan pie for him and French chocolate silk pie for me. A-ma-zing. Won-der-ful.

The entire meal was under $25.

Go there. Now.

(I told the proprietor, whose name I did not get, that if he was expanding the menu -- which already has 13 entrees! -- I was requesting boudin, or rice sausage. He said that was on the way.)

I have no idea what Darin's been doing, because I've been so busy myself.

Sunday I talked to my writing teacher about the second version of the first sequence of my movie (a sequence is a group of scenes that are thematically related) that I had handed in: he liked it, but he had some comments, criticisms, suggestions... I immediately became discouraged (how typical) and started thinking up a third completely different way to start my movie.

If you think writing is hard, rewriting is a bitch.

I brought it in to class and said, "This is experimental work." The teacher said, "No caveats," which is the only rule we have in class. I said, no, that wasn't a caveat, more of a declaration that this was an approach I was experimenting with, not committed to, as it was completely different from versions 1 and 2.

Everybody liked it.

Right now, that's good enough for me: I want to move to Act II, and I'm pretty much done with Act I. How can I be nearly done with Act I? Well, I know what happens in the second sequence of the movie, the sequence that makes up the second half of Act I. I've written that, and it needs some tweaking to fit with the new first sequence, but not much.

It's the opening of the movie that's the tricky part. The end of the movie may sell it to the buying producer and the public, but the opening is what gets someone to read it in the first place. The story must already be underway -- this was inevitable. And you have to introduce the lead character succinctly and dynamically, so as to make the audience sympathize or empathize with the character in the least amount of time.

Or at least let the audience know what the hell is going on.

I've never been one much for rewriting. Usually my writing has been so much better than others that I haven't needed to. I don't, for the most part, rewrite these entries before posting them: what I type the first time is what you get.

Good writing is not like that. Good writing takes craft, takes the ability to chuck something that isn't working, no matter how wonderful it is, takes time.

I have a friend who believes that everything she writes is channelled, that it's just given to her by some higher power. She is unfair to herself, because good writing takes time to achieve, and if she denigrates her own role in the process, she cannot take credit for what came from her. And she is unfair to her writing, because if she never tries to improve what is given unto her from above, she's never going to improve.

Which is why writing three wildly different versions of the first sequence of my movie has been so important. Yes, it's annoying I didn't get it right (and I still don't think I have it right, but I'm closer), but if I keep at it, I can understand the process a little better. Instead of just saying, Look, my angel gave me a movie!