There has been exactly ZERO progress on either screenplay since my big breakthrough last week.
Life has been busy, procrastination paid me a visit, and I’m in the middle of reading a great book (see yesterday’s CURRENTLY READING post). All of which conspired to produce no new visionary lines of script.
In order to compensate for my lack of screenplay attention I will make a deal to write AT LEAST TWO pages of the JANE screenplay by the end of the week.
Hopefully, as is often the case, the muse will kick in and help me to seamlessly produce ten pages. But for now I will set the goal at two as I’m still not finished with my book, it is a busy week at work, and all the same stuff as last week, come to think of it. Hmm.
Here are the current standings:
JANE: 56 pages
Change rate from last week: No actual pages, but the outline is in place. Goal for this Friday, April 2nd, 2010: AT LEAST two pages written.
Well, I haven’t posted in three days for a few reasons. One of which is that, as many of you readers out there know, when you find a good book every free moment is spent reading it. And THE HELP is that book for me right now. I’m only on page 275 out of 444.
I don’t know much of anything about the American South other than my own romanticized images of magnolia trees, sultry humidity, gentlemanly manners, and the lessons in history books. I was born , raised, and still live in California.
This past December was my first time actually being there and I must say I loved it. It did not disappoint. All my romantic ideals were confirmed except for the sultry humidity, seeing as it was December and all.
For many reasons one of the highlights of the trip was a small, slight woman whose gold name tag read Miss Betty. She sang happy birthday to me at the breakfast table in a soft sweet voice as she served me coffee and grits. When she was finished singing, Miss Betty told me how beautiful I looked in my new blue scarf and lightly touched my blonde hair. I could have cried, she was so sweet.
THE HELP is a reminder of the other elements of the South, and what sadly may not be a former South from some things I see on the news. It’s not romantic at all. It’s shameful. But that’s a whole other topic.
Today, I was tired after working at my desk job and too tired to make myself go run along a gorgeous stretch of beach at sunset. Too tired to make dinner myself (for only myself), so I went to Trader Joes and bought some salad that someone else had made. Too tired to sit down and write something creative on my brand new, beautiful laptop because it wouldn’t be good enough.
Oh boo-hoo. Poor tired me.
I thought how pathetic I am for whining about all of that. My child is grown and I don’t have to take care of her. My significant other is not with me right now, so it is only me that needs attention. There is no other woman’s child to care for and raise, no burden of discrimination and fear living with me every day like a weight in my chest; no subjection to ridicule and degradation. I will remember that the next time I want to whine about my life.
The beautiful thing about THE HELP is the story of the women. Ms. Stockett wonderfully weaves us together in characters of all colors using the common threads of the heartbreak of losing children either through miscarriage or hideous accidents. We’re together in the joys of the laughter of a baby and the look of love from the man we adore. We’re together in wanting to change things that aren’t right and having the strength to do that even when we are dog friggin’ tired and our very hearts are breaking as we do it, but we do it anyway because it’s the right thing.
This isn’t a politically feminist post or anything other than an acknowledgement to the author of THE HELP, Kathryn Stockett. Because, really, who am I to talk about racial tension and women’s rights and fighting for change? I’ve got it easy thanks to people like my mother and a million other people I’ve never met. This is just my very small statement of gratitude about a very large topic.
I was in a shop the other day staring out the sunny doorway thinking about Aibileen and saw these two swallows flying around. They stopped for a moment on the door of a storage container, and then flew on to a telephone wire. They reminded me of the cover of the book. Funny how that happens…
It’s 10:03pm and I need to stop writing so I can start reading, but before I go I just need to say, Miss Betty? Wherever you are, thank you for the coffee and grits and most especially for the birthday breakfast song. It made a difference. I hope I get to see you again and tell you as much.
It would seem from your books that you have a sense of humor, so I thought you’d get a kick out of seeing one of the gifts I got on my last birthday.
The tiny type underneath the words “Action Figure” on the package is a line from Pride and Prejuduce (Which is obvious to you, I’m sure):
For what do we live, but to make sport for our neighbors and laugh at them in our turn?
Great line. I’m not exactly clear why the makers of your action figure chose that particular line, however. Any ideas? I would have chosen something like,
Let other pens dwell on guilt and misery. (Mansfield Park)
Or even,
It sometimes happens that a woman is handsomer at twenty-nine than she was ten years before. (Persuasion)
Which would be very much in line with your humor, don’t you think?
Your action figure is still in the box, because the intact presentation cracks me up. I have yet to see how your action figure rolls around or goes into actual action, but once I take it out of the box I’ll report back on what tricks you can do. I don’t think they modeled your likeness to do any kung-fu kicks, though. Hope you don’t mind.
I’m glad they were reverent in their recreation of you. Just think if they had made a Jane Austen Barbie! 36 DD’s would be tough to fit in a bodice from your century, so I think the creators of your figure took the right route. Although, Barbie does have more movable parts and can do those high kicks. She had a Dream House and Ken (for whatever he’s worth), too. You only get a quill and a small desk. So it’s a toss up.
Your writing has always inspired me. It is deep and funny, the issues seemingly time-less. Just look at all the remakes that have been made and are still being made of your stories! Now I can be inspired by this tiny likeness of you as well as your words on a page. I will keep you on my desk, once you are out of the box.
I’m impressed that you could write so well by candlelight and without a word processor. You must have had good eyes. My eyes are weaker every day and I have nothing like your excuse of electricity not even being invented to blame on it. So, well done there.
Jane, I will write again as there is much to say to you, but I wanted to share the fact that you have really hit the big time by having your own action figure. You ROCK! And now apparently, because you are an action figure, you ROLL too. Congratulations!
Come to dinner sometime. I’ll roast a pheasant that I shot while out hunting that morning and we can dish about Mr. Darcy ’til the wee hours.
Thirty minutes isn’t much time for a lunch break, but really a lot can happen in that time. Babies can be born. Games can be won. Planets can collide. Stars can fizzle out. Wars can end. Dormant buds can finally burst into bloom. Love can be made.
In thirty minutes you can turn your head thirty different directions and see something new each minute. Try it. You might be dizzy , but you’ll see a lot of interesting sights.
While wandering the other day on my lunch break, I passed into a sunny courtyard. I don’t typically pass through this place, so I was more hyper aware of my surroundings. The sun was heavy and hard on the stone, radiating heat and igniting the aromatic lavender plants.
Here he is pretending he doesn't see me.
I stopped in my tracks for two reasons. One is I have a slight bird phobia (this guy was bigger than my sister’s lap dog) and secondly I had to stop and really look at what I was seeing. Slowly I pulled my camera out, but the movement caught his black beady eye and he broke the pose I wanted to capture.
When I came first upon this sassy fellow, he was on the very top of the fountain, letting the cool water bubble over his spiky black feet that (and this is the phobia talking) I’m sure he would have used to scratch my eyes out given the opportunity. He would lift one up and then the other, letting the water drip off each foot as it was raised.
Thankfully he was more interested in cooling his feet than clawing at my hair or eyes and hopped down to the next level of the fountain pretending he didn’t see me. He was coquettish in his manner. He cocked his head to the side a few times, turned this way, then that, squawked at me for disturbing him and flew away.
Looking at me and deciding whether or not to peck my eyes out.
His shiny, raven attitude made me smile. He was hot and just trying to cool down his scratchy feet. It was comical and a definite one minute moment out of thirty that I remembered for the next twenty four hours.
A lot can happen in thirty minutes. Pies can be baked. Poems can be written. Kittens can shred your curtains. A crow can make you smile.
Well, it’s Monday again and that means a SCREENPLAY progress update.
As I was dreading this day yesterday afternoon (because I had made zero progress on either piece), it dawned on me that maybe I could at least look at them, re-read my favorite parts and maybe I would get inspired to continue.
The problem with JANE has been that it stalled in the second act with no clear story to guide me home. So, yesterday I re-read my favorite bits: the part where the heroine is running through a rainy night down a treelined path, the part where she finds herself in a church one evening wondering who to speak to not being of a religious nature herself, and the part where she has some very profound and witty dialogue with a man of the cloth on a sunny country road.
After reading these favorite bits, a lightbulb went on. Click! I spent the next hour typing furiously with no punctuation or grammar checks, no water breaks, no refills on chardonnay . When the dust had cleared I had an entire page, single spaced, outlining the entire REST OF THE STORY. And with optional endings!
This is monumental, people. This screenplay has been languishing for over five years now, with no major progress other than maybe a half heartedly written page and a whole lot of editing on what was already written. Yesterday I made Big Major Epic Progress.
I now need to fill in the outline with sweeping visuals and more witty banter that is also profound, but the skeleton is in place. More importantly, I’m excited by the skeleton! It has terriffic bones.
One goal of this blog was to spur me into writing more, but also to publicly shame me into making progress on the screenplays. Mission accomplished. At least for this week.
Sadly, LORRAINE was completely ignored in favor of her much older and more exciting sister.
So, to sum up the current stats:
JANE: 56 pages (BUT ONE WHOLE PAGE OUTLINING THE CONCLUSION OF THE MOVIE!)
Your book, Eat Pray Love, was loved by many. Myself included. If you walked into the room right now I would stand and applaud. And I mean that sincerely.
There were a lot of haters out there saying that it was a self-indulgent story, etc etc. Well, so what if it was? It’s no more self-indulgent than most blogs out there (including this one). Right? Self-discovery requires a certain amount of self- indulgence.
I would think that the actual experience of writing the book was the fourth word in your personal discovery (as in Eat, Pray, Love, and Write). We must write and sometimes when we do we are lucky enough to unravel thoughts and desires enabling us to progress mentally, emotionally or spiritually.
Anyway, I digress. Your book is the perfect tome for Middle of Lifers (even though you were in your 30s when you wrote it). It’s actually an excellent tome for any stage of life. Self-discovery is a powerful way to propel through life.
Reinventing, learning to adapt to change, and re-learning things we thought we already knew are prominent in the Middle of Life. Your book has helped many to see there is a way, using humor and delight, to move through all life sends our way.
Congratulations on the upcoming movie! How exciting it must be to see a part of your life recreated in movie form complete with sound track. That is really cool.
Here’s the thing, Elizabeth. I’m having trouble with the Julia Roberts choice. I didn’t see that one coming. You probably didn’t have anything to do with the casting and Julia is a big BIG name with a big BIG Hollywood smile, I get that. But, shucks. I’m not a hater of Ms. Roberts (heck, I don’t even know her), but I can’t get my head around it!
I’m not seeing in Julia the lightness of spirit and humility that I “saw” in you within the words of your book. She seems to lack a sweetness that you carry (which sounds so terrible and I’m sorry to judge Julia when I don’t even know her).
My vote would have been for, say, Elizabeth Banks, while my sister suggested the terrific Minnie Driver. Or what about Cate Blanchett? If Meryl Streep was 20 years younger, she would be the perfect choice. Who is our new 40 so-something Meryl? There are many, many actresses that I can’t even think of at the moment who would have been great for this part. Maybe the studio couldn’t think of them either, so they defaulted for the star power of Julia. Touché!
What are your thoughts on the casting choice?
I will be going to see your movie, Elizabeth, because I support you and your honest and joyous book. Great, creative endeavors must be supported! So, I will pay my $10, let go of my preconceptions of Ms. Roberts, and abandon myself to seeing your story in a more visual medium.
Thank you, again, for writing Eat, Pray, Love. Itwas a wonderful and brave book. Getting lost in your life’s journey for a little while was pure joy and as a result there has been some self-indulgence that has led to discovery and progress in my own world.
Come for dinner sometime.
We can have Pasta with curry sauce and talk about Committed over a cup of kopi Bali.
In my daily travels (within the last 2 days) I have gone from ocean
to lakes,
to mountains,
and back to the ocean.
Always, back to the ocean. This misty morning was a beautiful way to start daylight savings time.
While this may have nothing to do with the Middle of Life (except in that it is where I travel within the MoL), it sure is purdy and should be shared with all you folks who live in places that have endless winters (yeah I’m talking to you, Miss Virgin V. I’ll have more on her later).