Tell Me A Story

What defines a good story to you? If you like to tell stories, either orally or on paper, how do you know when you have a good one?

I don't have many doubts in my ability as a writer. I string words together well; I always have. People don't usually get confused as to who's where and what's happening. Nobody's ever told me, "I couldn't get to the end. It was too boring." I'm not at all worried about that.

I am having a patented Crisis of Confidence® over whether I can tell a story.

After Thesis class yesterday I asked Linda to tell me that the class discussion did not go as badly as my brain was telling me it did. She said that it didn't, she thought it went fine. It always helps me to get external feedback to remind me that my worldview is not the only one out there. Talking to Linda calmed me down. When I get really upset I start imagining the worst and I need to be reminded that perceptions are not, in fact, always realities.

The day started out a little stressful: we voted in Episodic class to follow ER as our "group project." Guess what? I'd never seen ER, as unlikely as that may sound. I figure I watch all the cop shows; I don't need to watch doc shows as well. And now we're going to pitch for and outline the most goddamn difficult show on TV.

(The vote was actually split between ER and NYPD Blue, with one more in the ER category. We had to take a couple of votes, which was fine. Then Bernice raises her hand and makes a plea to the class to do NYPD Blue, which as much ensured we were doing ER. Bernice's plan for the show she was going to write this semester was ER, and now at least one of my Episodic classmates is worried about Bernice ripping them off. As aren't we all.)

Pitches start next week. Fuckfuckfuckfuck. Okay, watch the show; pull everything off the internet regarding the show and past episode guide; call everyone else in the class who watches ER (of course, it appears to be everyone). I watched it last night -- I'm not hooked. But maybe I wasn't paying enough attention, which is possible given the frame of mind I was in.

After Episodic comes Thesis. Len told us some truisms of the entertainment industry, such as "Everyone lies" and "You need to learn to lie." By this he means that people will

1. out-and-out lie to you and/or
2. lie to you thinking they're telling you the truth, because they don't know what's actually going on, and/or
3. lie to you without knowing it because they've been telling the same damn lies for so long they don't remember they're actually lies.

He said, "If you run into someone at a party and they say, I'm looking for such-and-such, say, 'I have a screenplay on that, can I get it to you Monday?' Then you run home and write all weekend. Or if you can't get it to them Monday, call up and say you've been delayed for some reason, can you get it them Friday? Then write all week."

Mind you, Len strikes all of us as being a fairly decent guy. The concept of lying to everyone all the time kind of makes me sick, but I'm rephrasing it as "Promise more than you can deliver, then deliver."

We also got on the topic of why murder is wrong. Why is murder wrong? If someone came up to you and said, "I like to kill people," what do you say to them? (Hey, he stumped me.) Len said, after having done a documentary in which he went into prisons and talked to serial killers about why they did what they did, the best answer he could come up with was, Because you're killing yourself. But it's inadequate, he knows.

From murder we moved to everyone's stories.

I'll cut to the car chase: I was just as ineloquent talking about (and defending) my story this week as I was last week. We discussed elements of it, tossed out characters, got my fellow students' feedback.

I ended up feeling like I was back on square one. I think it's a bad sign when the teacher asks you to review why this material is so attractive. Why I want to write this.

"It's funny," I said, "but whenever I'm on the spot like this I keep drawing a blank."

He said I didn't have to answer it now. But I had to think about it.

In my discussion with Linda later on, she reminded me that story is one thing Len does very, very well, and I ought to be encouraged by some of the things he said. There's a very good, commercial story in there somewhere, we just don't know where it is. If I can't find it, I have to move on, and we're already mid-September. Pressure doesn't make me work harder or work smarter: it makes me freeze and my IQ drop by 200 points.

"I'll talk to Darin," I told Linda. "He'll be able to help me through this."

I called Darin. No answer. It took me an hour to drive home, 6:15 to 7:15. I didn't think traffic would still be that after 6. Surprise. I stopped at the store, picked up some milk and juice, and came home. No Darin. I plopped down on the couch and turned on the TV, knowing that I had to watch ER at 10.

No Darin.

At 9 I started making calls. I called The Boys. I called Brent. I called Fernando and started crying. No one knew where he was. I wrote mail to Greg to ask if they'd chatted during the day. ER started and I had a devil of time following a show where I don't know any of the characters or what the hell they're doing while trying to find my husband. I called one of Darin's business friends down here to ask if he knew where Darin was.

Call waiting buzzed.

It was Darin. "Did you get my note?"

I hadn't gotten the note. There are two doors to come in to our house; I'd gone in door number two.

Mj had called and invited the both of us out to a sneak preview. Since I wasn't out of class yet, Darin couldn't find me, so he left me the note and went himself. He felt so bad that I was so upset.

Of course, I'm wailing and crying on the phone...and Mj is still in the car. Mj evidently was horribly embarrassed. "How long before you can laugh about this?" he asked Darin.

"About 15 minutes," said Darin. He was right, of course, once he got home, we could laugh about it. Well, once I'd called Fernando back and told him Darin was okay and I had calmed down.

I know that my worked-up state after Thesis class did not help me any. If I were calmer I would have thought better. Or at least been less likely to jump to the worst possible scenario (all of which I kept thinking about in great detail, damn my photographic imagination).

I think the lesson learned here is to leave notes in front of the TV or on the plate of brownies.

Some more journal recommendations:

I'd tell you to read Dave Filippi's, but he hasn't updated recently, dammit!

Chuck'Stake is written by a guy who says he was inspired by The Paperwork. Whoo hoo! Chuck is also a writer, a sitcom writer this time. He's a very funny (and if you read about his exchange with Elly, a very, very naughty) boy.

Lies, Damn Lies, and Statistics