Up A Tree

Accomplishments:

• I wrote a number of pages for my rewrite script (the Irish script).
• I revised two scenes in my thesis script, per Len's comments last Thursday.

Last Thursday Len pinpointed my writing problem: I never let my characters get into real jeopardy--I protect them too much. There isn't enough conflict, and the world is too nice to the characters.

Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln...

In case you don't know, the basic structure of a screenplay (and really, of any story) goes something like this:

1. Act 1: you put the hero up a tree
2. Act 2: you throw stones at him/her
3. Act 3: you get the hero out of the tree.

Len's analysis of my writing weakness worries the crap out of me because conflict is what stories are about. I've gotten much better at getting my characters into hot water and making it tough for them to get out of it, I know, but clearly I haven't gotten far enough.

I did work damn hard at making things hard on the main character in my thesis script. But Len points out that I've ended up with a main character who has no weaknesses--she never gets hurt badly enough, either physically or emotionally. Especially emotionally, which is where the power of a story comes from.

Why does Die Hard work so well? Because despite how beat up Bruce Willis gets--and unlike most action movies, he actually seems to get hurt by all the shit he goes through--we know he's got to continue: his wife is still in danger and we know how much she means to him.

Len also mentioned that structurally I have this annoying tendency to solve lines of tension and not picking up with another one. In the Irish script, the main character spends the first two acts looking for something, and the second she finds it the movie is over--but the script continues. Act III, in the first version of the script, is totally dead because there's no tension.

So, anyhow, back to this afternoon: I did two things I thought Len would be proud of me for:

1. I did some mental reordering of the rewrite script, as I gear up for a rewrite of the rewrite. (And I have three weeks to go during which to fix it up. Whee-fucking-ha.) Having released one line of tension at the end of Act 2 (the heroine finds her Lost Object), I have to introduce a new one.

2. I got my main character so far up a goddamn tree in Act 3 I don't know how to get her down.

I'm seriously considering not finishing Act 3, just showing it to the Rewrite Prof and saying, Help! Well, my actual plan is to give him my recent pages, along with my plan of attack for restructuring Acts 1 through 2.5, and yelling, Help! Clearly I need to plant something much earlier in the story that will help her out of this jam, but nothing is coming to mind.

Rob cooked last night: filet of sole, roasted slices of potato, roasted onion, fennel gratinée. Damn tasty, and the entire meal was about 300 calories. I have no idea how he did that, but as soon as I'm able, I'm hiring him as my personal chef. Of course, that would mean that he and Laura would have to move down or Darin and I would have to move back north. Which will eventually happen, but it's not in the cards right now.

Rob remarked last night that he doesn't know why he reads The Paperwork anymore, because he's never mentioned in it. Unless he does something like come visit, in which case he gets mentioned a lot and is very, very happy.

Today for breakfast we went to DuPar's, where we introduced Laura to DuPar's killer French toast. I had a bite of Darin's French toast. That's some good-tasting French toast, man.

Rob cooks again tonight!

I'm totally impressed by Rob and Laura's dedication to managing their weight. They certainly give me a standard to shoot for. Both Rob and Laura carry Palm Pilots, with which to write down everything they eat, and they use software to figure out the nutritional information for various recipes (like the filet of sole dinner, above).

Of course, this is what you have to do, especially at the beginning, when you start eating solid food again--you have to learn to estimate calories and portion size. I bought a little kitchen scale to weigh food with, and I have my calorie counter. Having software to figure out calories would be pretty cool too.

And you have to write down everything you eat, because you will forget...or worse, convince yourself that if you don't write it down, it doesn't count. And it does. Believe me.

By the way, lots of people have written me about the whole schmoozing thing. I'm by no means the only person out there who has a problem with this.

Rob told me that he's pretty good at schmoozing, so he gave me this advice yesterday:

Always ask the person about themselves. People love talking about themselves.

To which I responded:

So it's just like a date, huh?

That was the trick I always used whenever a guy expressed interest in me--I'd ask about him. Strangely, I rarely got the questions in reverse...which actually was fine with me, because believe it or not, I hate talking about myself. Despite the fact that I have an online journal. The idea of just expounding on what I'm doing or what I've done in the past--I always think the other person is going to be that much more interesting, so I'd rather hear about them.

(Needless to say, I hit the jackpot, both with talking and with having a more-interesting-life-than-thou, with Darin.)

Lies, Damn Lies, and Statistics