October is "Read More, Bitch" Month

...and update your blog more, too.

I need to read more. Again. My mind has once again become stagnant and dulled. It begs for life to be breathed into it and at best I've been able to manage a weak sigh.
So last night I sat down, took out a fake Sharpie and a piece of construction paper (because sometimes for important lists you have to be eight... that's just how it is), and wrote down a short-ish list of book to read for next month. Seeing as how it's going to be October, and I love all the fallishness (or what I remember of it, since southern California doesn't have seasons) and Halloween funtimes that go with it, it's a pretty Gothic-centric list.
However, to keep myself on task, I'm tacking on the added challenge of blogging a review of these once a week, hopefully on Tuesdays. That way I satisfy two goals in one, and help my poor story-starved brain recover from its lack of imaginative air.

If you want to peek in every week to check my progress, please do so -- and if you want to know what I might will be reading, here's the list:

Hell House - Richard Matheson (re-read)

Northanger Abbey - Jane Austen

The Vampyre  - John Polidori

Roald Dahl's Ghost Stories - Roald Dahl

Dracula (graphic novel) - Bram Stoker / Marvel Comics*

Bonus Book TBA

*The Dracula graphic novel review will actually show up over at The Comics Observer, likely on 10/29, but I'll post a lil' tidbit and lingage here on that date.

Read along with me... IF YOU DARE. MUAHAHAHAHAHHAAAAAA!
(See. Halloween. Love it.)

There’s loads of boring stuff like Sundays and Tuesdays and Thursday afternoons.

From a little blog post I did on another site regarding this day:
Thursday is my least favorite day of the week. That’s right. Not Monday, when (if you’re cursed with a standard day job) you must return to the blinding fluorescent lights and windowless cubicle world for another five days of torture. Not Sunday when, just like as a child, you dread the upcoming return to the cubicle/classroom environment. No, it’s Thursday for the win. 
Thursday dangles the weekend before you yet stands as a constant reminder that you’re not done yet. People tend to be more testy, more easily riled, and more frustrated with the universe on Thursday (at least most of the people I know). Thursday reminds you that all those deadlines you set for the end of the week and haven’t achieved yet are imminent — and you’re probably not going to achieve them. Thursday afternoon is the most interminable three to four hours of the whole work week. Time actually does move backwards. 

There's been a lot happening in my little 'verse lately, and yet not so much that I feel as though a lot of progress has been made. I think it's a pitfall of spending so many years in theatre that I yearn for an immediate response to projects which are completed start to finish in a matter of months. Setting deadlines to complete a work that's been in progress for years... my patience just wears thin.
Still, I'm trying to avoid the pitfalls of wanting to move on to something else because damnit, this year I am going to finish something. More than one something if I can stick to the deadlines. 
I just have to work through the low days, including every wretched Thursday...

If It's Been Done Well, Leave It Alone

*deep breaths before diving into a hot button issue with me*

Articles and speculation about adapting classic literature (and literature in general) always draw my attention and, sometimes, my ire. I am not one of those Every Book Is A Holy Canon Which Should Not Be Altered For Screen people. I'm a writer, and I have flaws. I've written for the screen, and have flaws. No writer is perfect and no medium of expression is perfect in conveying what one medium already covered. My issues with adaptations are not rooted in that base problem, they are rooted in this: when one creator crafts a story and characters, it is the responsibility of someone later coming along to adapt that work to at least stay true to the overall tone and message of the source, as well as its characterization -- or change the g-d name! You change plot points? As long as we get to the same eventual conclusion, fine. You combine or omit characters? As long as it makes a stronger narrative and doesn't mess up essential moments in the story, fine. You alter a major character motivation, changing who they are on a fundamental level? NOW I have an issue, and my outrage will be rantalicious unless you give damn good support for your change or, you know, CHANGE THE G-D NAME. (Noticing a trend?)

My only other gripe with adaptation (and why I pretty much never take issue with Shakespeare films because he's the one writer out there whose work we never quite get right), is that once a well done, faithful adaptation is accomplished it's time to close the book, so to speak, and remove it from the realm of stories up for grabs. In my hasty youth, I didn't even extend this to previous film works. I thought, hey, if you can update a classic film well, then go for it! I've wizened and grown curmudgeonly in recent yeas, however, and now see the error of my ways. And if ever I need a reminder, I think of High Society (yeah, Hollywood was pulling that even during its Golden Age, so we can't heap all the blame on ourselves for the current state of stagnant original ideas). It's fine to have a vision of someone else's story in your head. If you're lucky enough to be allowed the chance to craft that story in another medium, then kudos to you -- you're already achieving one of my biggest dreams. Just... don't eff it up. And if you do and then someone else comes along later and hits the marks where you missed them, then at least you had that chance. However, if someone beats you to your dream (and I swear I will probably resort to every known tactic of undermining human success if this happens to me -- yeah, I can get competitive when I need to be), accept their success and find a new dream for yourself. The idea that once a good, faithful adaptation has been crafted someone else can come along with a new interpretation that will make the successful one shudder in shame is ridiculous. Improving a work from one medium to another is one huge accomplishment. Don't tempt fate by trying to improve the adaptation -- find something different or original to make, or CHANGE.THE.G-D.NAME.

What spurred my current eruption of emotion about adaptations? Well, it's been sort of a slow burn recently between varying reports of remaking IT, a clustermess of issues in season two of Game of Thrones (many of which end up as just sloppy storytelling -- and making strong characters into idiots), and culminating in the top news of this article about directors who were born for certain adaptations. The article itself is intriguing and has some interesting (and some, really, very safe) choices in the roster. What made my head do a Linda Blair was the news which sparked this article: that Guy Ritchie is doing an adaptation of Treasure Island.
Now, I don't necessarily doubt that the movie will be a fun romp with cool action sequences, quippy dialogue, and a sassy Long John Silver. There's just two issues with this equation. First, that concept is not going to end up being Treasure Island. Second, there already exists a near perfect adaptation of the book -- we don't need another.
Addressing issue the first: Guy Ritchie's already proven this is his MO with the Sherlock Holmes movies. Those guys bashing around the world solving mysteries are not Holmes and Watson. What Ritchie crafted is a set of cool Victorian buddy movies, with two men who happen to share names with and few characteristics of two of the most compelling characters in literature. You want to really see Holmes and Watson on screen? Watch the BBC series Sherlock. It's a modern setting, yes, but it IS Sherlock Holmes. I enjoy the movies, but I told myself about fifteen minutes into the first one that this was a Victorian buddy movie, not a Sherlock Holmes movie. In my head, I CHANGED THE G-D NAME, and then it was fine.
Now on to issue the second: already a near perfect adaptation of Treasure Island? Yep. I've never seen that... you think. No, you probably haven't. Yet it exists. It's a very good film, and it is one of the best examples in existence of how to adapt literature for screen. It's faithful to the tone, style, feel and majority of the plot. The characterization is spot on with a stellar cast. It's not a perfect movie, but Treasure Island is not a perfect book. It is however proof that when you maintain the core of a novel as your guiding star you can make not only a good film but a truly faithful adaptation of a work which deserves that treatment. Yet, people are still making Treasure Island... except no other adaptation I've seen really is remotely close to actually being Treasure Island, thus the crux of this whole entry: if you're going to keep remaking something and yet deviate drastically from the source -- CHANGE.THE.G-D.NAME.

Stay Tuned!

New, interesting, thought-provoking, occasionally ranting, sometimes fangirling posts coming REALLY soon. 

Just as soon as I find my brain.

Which will be very soon.

I hope.

I mean, it was here recently. I have a dim recollection of having amazing ideas for posts, and articles, and the drive to complete them.

Enter debilitating invisible illnesses rearing themselves for a week and POOF! my brain went into hiding. I now have the attention span of a four year old on pixie stix. I can barely finish a coherent thought let alone...

Have you noticed how incredibly hot and talented and all-around-geeky Tom Hiddleston is? Classically trained Super Actor who refers to Loki as 'cray cray,' gets himself memed all over the interwebs (Loki'd!), and will either rap Will Smith's "Miami" or recite monologues from Henry V on command.

Oh, and then there's this:

What was I talking about?
Ummm...
Oh yeah, I'm going to see APOCALYPTOUR in less than a week. Which might help get songs from Holy Musical, B@man out of my head... or just embed them deeper. *shrugs* Still doesn't make me regret having Supersnoop saying "You got a phone call, motherfucker," as my ringtone.

Wait... that wasn't what I was talking about...

Oh. Yeah.

Brain missing.

Hopefully not for much longer...

A Story a Day? More like a Pain in my Ass...

In a moment of blind enthusiasm for something that might bust me out of the writers’ funk I’ve had going on, my brain went, “A story a day for a month? Why the fuck not?!?” 
 Now, no matter how many times I give reasons for ‘why the fuck not,’ it keeps pushing back with ridiculous drivel about how I need to be committed and accountable for writing something and this provides it to me. 
Stupid brain.
 You make me want to go drink until I can’t feel feelings anymore. Feelings like unadulterated fear at the prospect of having to craft and finish not one but MANY stories in a single month.
Yet I’m going to do it… so the brain wins this round.

Also... new blogger layout is new. Not sure how I feel about this yet. I find change disquieting.

Omm-ing

Taken from my first experience using the Omm Writer for Mac (it's astonishing what programs actually work when one updates their operating system...):

The epicness of this is not lost on me. The screen is white, save for a few sparse trees, their branches bare. Chimes ring steadily in the background as a little chirp accompanies each click of the keys. This is the typewriter of the internet age. Take out the real distractions and just bloody write.
I cannot click on another tab to distract myself with facebook, twitter, or any of the dozen other go to distraction sites. Everything is wiped from the desktop, leaving me alone with my thoughts... and these chimes.
All right, in all honesty, the chimes could be a little less new-agey. Then again, I'll take a bit of new age chiming over the draw to drift to some other distracting destination.
I don't even really know how to get out of this. I just opened the program and this is what appeared to me. I may very well have to go typing into the night until my eyelids droop and I just let the computer go to sleep. I mean, sure, I could pause in this typing exercise and go looking for something to get me out of here, but that would defeat the initial purpose.

Then again, I can only take so much of these chimes. Those at least I need to figure out how to change...
Oooh. New chimes. These are deeper... still new agey, but more like windchimes plus a singing bowl than something you'd hear in the background of an Enya track.
Third series of sound is... melodic. Ish. If you like music that sounds like it's been filtered through water and the lovechild of Phillip Glass and Danny Elfman. Yeah. Not for me.

I got the font to change to something more akin to my style. The background can shift as well to either all white (far too daunting for me), or a light shade of grey. That will be good when I go into a dark mood, but for testing out the program, I rather enjoy the winter-esque landscape. Must be the Stark in me. (I'd like some Stark in me, IYKWIMAITYD...)

Ahhh.... so I CAN minimize this little bugger (and put it on silent if I want my own theme music while writing). That's good, overall. What I'd really like to be able to do is set a timer and/or word count goal on here so the program won't minimize until the timer runs out/I hit my goal. That, in my procrastinating little mind, would create an ideal program.
Even with the odd new age bells.

All in all, for a program that's designed to keep you focused on writing, the Omm Writer does a pretty good job. Though the minimize and close icons are still there if you wiggle your mouse, they are well off at the top (and on the opposite side one is used to) and therefore the temptation to drift away, while still there, is not so easily accessible. The free version lacks a few features I'd like to have, but for someone starting on the path of distraction-preventing software, Omm Writer and I could become fast friends.

What is this place?

How did I get back here?

Well, I'm glad you (the interwebs) asked. Though the more appropriate query might be: why did I leave?
It's not you, it's me. There. I clichéd.
However, that is pretty much the reality. Just like I'm one of those folks with a tendency to not respond to someone about anything and then the guilt complex enters in for not responding, and then I just get so guilt ridden and ashamed I ignore the issue entirely unless it comes back to bite me in the ass... well, yeah, that's basically it.

Then, eventually, you have to pry yourself away from the Self-hate Spiral of Suck and start functioning again.
This lovely blog post was an enormous help in getting me back to the blogsphere. I am this person. Number fifteen, about the books... it's like the guy has lived with me my entire life.

So yeah, I'm a crazy writer. Nutters. Off my rocker. Gone 'round the bend. Koo-Koo for Cocoa Puffs. I'm not alone, though -- much as the isolating voices in my head and natural introverted personality try to convince me otherwise.
I can't blog the crazy away, but I can invite others to jump in the crazy pool and drown with me.*


*I can't swim. So by my logic, we're all drowning.
See. Crazy.

American Horror Story: Needs More Crybation?

Courtesy of Urban Dictionary, for those unaware...
Crybate: Simultaneously crying and masturbating; the most pathetic act a human being can engage in alone.

Like millions of other seemingly ordinary individuals, I engaged in the horror mash-up that was last night's premiere of American Horror Story. The show has balls, coming out of the gate with a slew of disturbing imagery, homages to classic horror, Dylan McDermott crybating while being watched by a creeper standing amongst his family's drying sheets, and the most incoherent, jumbled assembly of timeline and plot ever created for a pilot series.
The show already has numerous reviews addressing the WTF-ery of its existence, as well as some top ten lists associated with the insanity vomited out of Ryan Murphy's GLEE-addled brain. My assessment runs more along the lines of: if this is an "American Horror Story," what makes it such... and does it work?

Ignoring generalizing and/or subjective queries such as: Is it scary? Are the ghosts real? Is anyone real? The biggest question about whether this show lives up to its title is this: What makes a horror story American?
Without getting all near-two-decades of watching, researching and writing about horror on y'all (because that would get far too intellectual for something as ridiculous as this series' pilot), it basically boils down to the following:
American horror wants to shock you. How it goes about achieving this varies depending on the desired shock level, where it hits you psychologically, and the style of its crafter. In this sense, American Horror Story wins in its first episode, if a string of mental WTFs can be considered shocking.
American horror is fascinated with disturbed individuals and their penchant for killing people, often in gruesome ways, with lingering effects. This show has disturbed people all right, and there's already hints and statements that some have already killed.
We like sex in our horror. It's not uncommon for American horror films to contain as much sexual content as violence, or at least the undertones of it. Europeans tend to be more subtle in their portrayal of sexuality as it relates to horror. It's almost non-existent in Japanese horror. Not us, we come out balls-blazing, coupling acts of gore in tandem with college orgies. From McDermott's luscious booty, to the (Ghost?)Gimp sex scene, to the hilarious (if you're me or anyone who works in my office) crybation scene, this series is no exception. In fact, if allowed by the censors, it could take torture-porn to a new level: porn-torture... like elevated crybation.
Many other themes in horror are embraced by the show: isolation, struggling against our desires in a heightened situation, history resurfacing to (possibly literally) bite us in the ass, and a questioning of what reality truly is. These are general constructs of most horror, not necessarily American.

So, the show hits most of the themes set forth in hundreds of years of American horror, along with more than a dash of general horror conventions. Does it work, though?
It could be a bit too soon to tell, but thus far... not entirely. The issue, I think, is that it's combining too many established constructs, coupled with homages, coupled with an incoherent plot and timeline. While it's shocking, disturbing, and full of weirdness (supernatural and otherwise), it fails to provide the audience with an answer to one of the most important questions in successful horror: What makes this horrific, and why tell us this story?
It has a chance to reveal this to us, but as of right now I'm doubtful it can accomplish this given its explicit bombardment of freakshow moments in the very first episode. That type of insanity cannot be maintained and retain the necessary creep-out factor to keep people engaged. yet you need to pull away a bit to provide some actual, coherent storytelling. Backing away from the crazy too soon, though, could expose perhaps the greatest flaw (so far) in this scenario: If all this insanity is happening within weeks(days? hours? who the hell knows right now...) of moving into their new home -- why are these people staying there and why should we care?

The Ultra-Douche Complex

Or: Why do we allow assholes to have control and squash genuine individuals?

The following reflects my personal worldview and contains some ranting, not intended to be injurious to individuals… except douchebags and dicks… if you don’t know whether or not you fall into one of those classifications, I’m sorry but you probably do.

Inspired by this great interview with actor (and gorgeous human being), Sean Maher, my mind and emotions were stirred to advocate on behalf of the downtrodden. In this instance, ‘downtrodden’ equals ‘someone who is a genuinely decent person who feels forced or pressured into denying their true self while Douchebag McAsshat continues a successful life by being… well, Douchebag McAsshat.’
The entertainment industry exists as a shining example of the Realm in Which Douches Prosper, but if you think it’s only in Hollywood, smack yourself upside the head a few times and take a closer look at the world in which you live.
Everyday the news bombards us with details of politicians getting dumber and douchier. Not only are some of these scumbags and wackos currently in powerful positions of public office, over the next year we’ll be subjected to yet more outlandish displays of ridiculousness in the name of them ‘helping’ our society move forward.
It happens in business all the time. Comic strips like “Dilbert” and shows like The Office don’t have the staggering fanbase they do because they’re farcical reversals of real-life ‘structure.’ By and large, corporate number crunchers, office honchos, and senior management rank among some of the most out-of-touch, useless, narcissistic and douchey people you will ever find. Not necessarily the CEOs and such, though there are high-profile examples of their cockuppery as well – I’m talking about the people between them and the office ‘plebes’ who actually allow the company to function.
What irks my sense of universal hierarchy in all this isn’t just the incompetency of these people. Or their general douchery. Or their entitlement complex (Ever seen a mid-to-high level executive interact with a retail employee? It’s terrifying.). It’s the fact that we, as a society, let these people continue with their selfish, stupid, asshole tendencies and allow them to advance their careers while intelligent, capable, compassionate, stable-minded individuals get ground into the dirt, mentally and emotionally, for refusing to pattern themselves after the behavior of their ‘superiors.’ We promote asshole behavior in this country.

Beyond that, any time an individual is pressured into feeling like they cannot express themselves and who they are as an individual because of a narrow-minded worldview – whether professionally or personally – it’s an abuse of our right, in this country at least, to freedom of expression. The warped view we’ve garnered on freedom of speech is ludicrous. I’m sorry, but your right to express your views and say what you think ends when it callously, or intentionally, injures someone because you think your opinion is above reproach. Basically, when you shoot your mouth of just to be a dick and it hurts someone, you are a dick and if you get your ass kicked (verbally or even sometimes physically) and claim freedom of speech and right to voice your opinion as a defense, you should get your ass kicked again. As many times as it takes for you to realize that treating people like shit, especially unprovoked, is not a justifiable action in a personal or professional context.

Thus, when reading an article like the referenced above, I’m simultaneously proud of an individual who finally feels the comfort and freedom to profess their true nature (when their true nature is nothing to be ashamed of, nor something they should feel an inhibition about expressing), and angered by the fact that this person lived against themselves because of the cultural stigma which exists in our society.

For my part, I don’t care if you’re gay, straight, bi, or a circus performing transvestite who reads to children at local hospitals on the weekend… I only think you should be forced to suppress yourself if you’re a dick. And the easy solution for not needing to suppress your inner dick? Don’t be one.

/rant

Inspire Me

The previous post made a to-do of my summer playlist, or at least a sampling of it. However, it focused on the music I listen to while driving, working, jamming… my writing music tends to central around only a handful of styles.
Sure, I’ll listen to a little stylistic music to get the emotional tone for some writings, but typically my genres for writing ‘seriously’* are limited. And since a not small number of posts here relate to writing and creating, I thought it about time to provide some of my most inspirational writing tunes. And by ‘some’ I mean enough to make a full length album.
It’s pretty soundtrack heavy due to my being a very visual writer and since music, good music, can drive a show or film with expert precision into a certain mood or emotional state it works very well for someone who sees pictures in their head as they write. Sometimes those pictures need coaxing from the right music to transform into words.
I have an extensive mix (actually several) of music to listen to while writing, as a good sprint can go on for hours and the more fuel provided for that sprint, the better. This list represents not necessarily the most outstanding or emotionally driving pieces, but ones I do turn to time and time again to get the creative juices flowing and the fingers working in time with the brain to transfigure mind pictures into fleshed out scenes.

The Kiss – Trevor Jones (The Last of the Mohicans): A great film score overall, yet despite the cheesy dialogue that accompanies this music in the film as a standalone musical work, this selection engages my synapses to fire in rhythm with my pulse every time.

A Game of Cricket - Adrian Johnston (Becoming Jane): Another score which stands out as a captivating work on its own. Anything that requires romance, a period feel, and/or a bit of cheek mixed with splendour is served by listening to this song and the score as a whole. Honourable mentions for: Selbourne Wood and Rose Garden

Marco Polo – Loreena McKennitt (The Book of Secrets): Instrumental with vocals is tricky because if the vocals don’t fit with the tune, or overpower it, it becomes too distracting. However, McKennitt has an extraordinary gift in blending her voice with the music she composes so when a song is instrumentally based and lacks lyrics her voice always compliments what the rest of the song already carries. While the album version is solid, I have a deep, visceral reaction and connection to the live version from Live in Paris & Toronto.

Loneliness of Six – Christophe Beck (Buffy the Vampire Slayer): One of the most overlooked series compositions ever. The music in Buffy (at least during Christophe’s main run in seasons 1-5) is some of the best television composing ever done. I listen to this cut most often because of the sweet melancholia it brings out, especially when the solo guitar comes in 2/3 through. Honourable mentions for: Remembering Jenny (with a haunting vocal by Anthony Head), Close Your Eyes, and Waking Willow

Madame De Pompadour – Murray Gold (Doctor Who, series 2): All right, let me be frank, there will be an entire post at some point dedicated to the incredible music composed for Doctor Who and Torchwood, and how each piece affects my writing. I truly cannot express how deeply invested I am in this music. However, if I have to choose one piece that succinctly captures all the sweetness, majesty, heartbreak, and hope that Gold’s music inspires, it is this one selection. Some days it gives me hope. Some days it inspires romance. Some days it causes me to break down into uncontrollable sobs. Yet I value each of those experiences equally and they always fuel some good writing. Honorable mentions: too many to name. Seriously. I’ll be doing a post just on Whoniverse music.

Sarabande Suite (Aeternae) – Globus (Epicon): One of very few tracks included on my epic writing playlist with actual words. However, at nearly eight minutes the lyrics make up a very small portion of the tune. I have a (no longer) secret goal to one day raise enough funds to make a trailer (to raise more funds) for my #1 pet film project. The trailer will be set to this song. And it will.be.epic.

The Funeral – Greg Edmonson (Firefly): Whedon shows take very specific stances with their music, and I love that about them. This piece came out of the composer after hearing the show had been cancelled. It’s the requiem for the series and never ceases to give me chills.

A Window to the Past – John Williams (Harry Potter and The Prisoner of Azkaban): While Williams’ composition for the first film stands as one of his best works, the second offered little in terms of new material to expand that standout effort. Yet when the tone of films changed with PoA and its new director, so did Williams’ music and the transformation took what was great about the first film’s score and amplified it (which is more than any subsequent HP score managed). This track is beautiful, haunting, bittersweet and emotionally complex as anything Williams has written since "Binary Sunset" for the first Star Wars film.

Maestro – Hans Zimmer (The Holiday): I’m a sucker for Zimmer (and his band of acolytes), I’ll just get that out there now. His compositions have a way of smacking me in the chest with powerful emotion and not letting go. If ever a romantic comedy deserved critical recognition for its score, my vote would be for The Holiday (appropriate as well as Jack Black’s character is a film composer). This selection opens the film, and when coupled with Kate Winslet’s incredibly opening VO sets the tone for what is a magical little movie with an amazing score. Honourable mentions for: Cry and Gumption

Jugglers – Javier Navarrete (Inkheart): Never underestimate the score of a ‘kids’ movie. A surprising number have incredible scores to accompany them. Inkheart is a strong example of this. The music overall is well done, but it’s obvious that (as with readers) the composer’s favorite character to write for is Dustfinger. Whenever I need a little boost in magic, I listen to this. Honourable mentions for: Dustfinger Disappointment and Meadows (also Dustfinger tracks)

My Name is Lincoln – Steve Jablonsky (The Island): Crap movie. Not outstanding score overall. This one piece? Incredible. (And it fits into the score of Elizabeth: The Golden Age almost better than that film’s real score)

Letter That Never Came – Thomas Newman (A Series of Unfortunate Events): See above re: scores to kid-oriented films. The music for this hits the tone of the film (and really, the books) directly on target. Newman knows how to pull at the heartstrings while still keeping a touch of hope and magic alive.

Samwise the Brave – Howard Shore (The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers): Choosing a single track from these scores made my heart ache. The music of these films is intrinsically tied to the emotion and journey of the films. When they use bits of the score during the production diaries for The Hobbit, I get choked up. Yes, really. The epic efforts used in creating these films is felt in every piece of music and no matter what track I listen to, I can feel the fueling emotion of the entire trilogy within it. Honourable mentions for: The Council of Elrond, The Breaking of the Fellowship and The Grey Havens

PMs Love Theme – Craig Armstrong (Love Actually): I love this movie. Suck it. All the major score themes resonate with the tone of the film, making me feel equally hopeful and bittersweet with every track. When I need to press on to some great moment in my writing, this track always pushes me to the light as I picture little Sam tearing his way through Heathrow to have an epic tribute to The Graduate -- except The Graduate didn’t include Bill Nighy stripping on telly in the background.

Injection – Hans Zimmer (Missions Impossible: II): Yes, another Zimmer track. Yes, from the Notorious rip-off that is MI:II. Yet fresh off his epic achievement in scoring for Gladiator (with Zimmerite Lisa Gerrard), this soundtrack soars far above the provided film material.

The Moon Beckons – Nick Glennie-Smith (The Man in the Iron Mask): This score pretty much began my obsession with soundtrack music (well, this and The Lion King). An instance where the music fuels the film when it could have destroyed it, but the quality of the score helps me overlook the UN Committee style accents scattered through the film.

Lancelot Theme – Rohan Stevenson (Merlin: Series 1): Merlin’s score themes are limited, but the ones that are used time and again never grow stale. The music for the show covers playful and epic, romantic and dramatic, with its own stylish flare. It’s more subdued and grounded than a lot of fantasy TV series’ scores. The Lancelot theme is the main romantic theme in the show, and it’s haunting beauty is both inspiring and swoon-worthy. Honourable mentions for: The First Code, Merlin Rides Out and Lancelot Leaves

The Caravan – Jerry Goldsmith(The Mummy): Take the score of The Omen and do a mash-up with the score of The Wind and The Lion, and you have the score for The Mummy. The score perfectly captures the feel and tone of one of my favorite flicks. Equal parts epic adventure-comedy-romance and old-fashioned-horror. This piece always makes me want to go ride camels through the desert – and I hate sand. And heat. Honourable mentions for: Camel Race and Giza Port

Wolsey Commits Suicide / Finale – Trevor Morris (The Tudors: Series 1): Period-style scores in TV dramas are tricky to get right, and Morris not only got it right, he excelled at it. Any montage done in this series set to his music wields as much power as any of the best written scenes in the show. This piece in particular. Honourable Mentions for: Henry Meets Anne Boleyn, More’s Love of a King, and the title theme

Gabriel’s Oboe – Ennio Moricone (The Mission): I may have my own preferences and leanings when it comes to film scores, but that doesn’t mean I shy away from greatness even when it doesn’t fit my usual style. The score for The Mission is one of the most haunting, beautiful, accomplished works of film music ever created. This oboe-driven piece never ceases to inspire depth in my writing. (And how often do you get to use the phrase ‘oboe-driven’ in scores? It’s rare.)

Barbossa is Hungry – Klaus Badelt (Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of The Black Pearl): Again, Zimmerphile here, but the scores to the first and third Pirates films are, like The Mummy score, perfect matches with the film material. While I love all the music, this track holds special significance for me. When I want power and speed, I use this. Also, play this track through your best sound system at about ¾ full volume – you’ll shake walls. Promise.
Honourable mentions for: Will and Elizabeth, One Last Shot, and One Day (by Zimmer, from At World’s End)

So there you have it. Twenty-one tracks (off a playlist of about 650) that inspire me to write more, better, and often.
What music inspires you to create?

*'seriously' equates to writing with intent of creating something that may someday be viewed by others for critical and/or commercial use… or anything I write that I want to pour myself into fully.

Summertime Tunes

It’s once again time to shortlist some songs that currently have me keeping a grasp on sanity, and keep me from pushing people off Mullholland Drive who have no idea how to navigate a winding road and therefore have no business driving on it. These songs also keep my brain from dribbling out my ears due to the mind-numbing day job which takes away pieces of my soul everyday. (It’s like I’m creating horcruxes out of coffee mugs, envelopes, staplers and sticky notes, without the cool street cred of having killed people for them.)


Annabelle Lee & Come On Up to the House – Sarah Jarosz: Incredibly talented, sickeningly young bluegrass doll (yeah, I said bluegrass) creates haunting song with one of Poe’s most famous poems and mellows out a Tom Waits tune with some Appalachian soul.

Make It Out Alive – Hanson: More than a year after the release of Shout It Out, and I’m still finding gems on this album. Right now the horn and piano driven bounces of this song, coupled with Taylor’s always melt-worthy vocals make a song about how we’re all going to die eventually one of the most fun compositions to bop along with in the car.

Smotherin’ Me – Imelda May: One of several cute, pixie-like, Brit chicks I’ve come to adore after appearing on The Graham Norton Show. Rockabilly swings with the voice of a long-time smoking jazz musician who’s done one too many wails.

Summerboy – Lady Gaga: Sorry, Born This Way, but you’re really not up to par with The Fame (or The Fame Monster). I can actually hear GaGa’s real voice in this song, not the auto-tuned, over processed product in, say, “Judas.”

Vigilante – Lucas Grabeel: This is one of those tunes I am so addicted to yet have no idea why. It was stuck in my head for three days this week. Not complaining as I love Lucas’ sweet tenor voice, especially when it dips into the lower register, but this is just one piece of ear candy that inexplicably makes me really happy.

Latest Mistake – Mandy Moore: Much as I like Amanda Leigh, I still stand by Wild Hope as the most accomplished of her albums, and whenever I go back to it, I come away with a new (temporary) favorite tune from the album. The emotional push behind the lyrics adds true depth to this folk-pop-rock gem.

Anchored – Tony Lucca: A bit out of place seasonally with lyrics that begin Smells like Los Angeles, middle of winter, but the emotion which carries this ballad transforms even the hottest day into a cool, romantic, bittersweet evening.

When I Stop Running (Album) – TFDI: The grouping of Jay Nash, Matt Duke and (the incomparable) Tony Lucca is inspired. The album plays off their strengths as artists, yet even when singing their own solo tunes the depth added from backing vocals by the other two outshines individual performance. And the group efforts combine the trio’s folk-rock aspects in harmonious unity.
Best tracks: When I Stop Running, If I Was a Ghost, Sweet Talking Liar, Hurtin’ Kind (And it's only $1.99 for the whole mp3 album on Amazon...)


Honorable Mention:
Anything Darren Criss sings. No, Really. Seriously. Anything.

Pin Me!

A couple weeks ago I got sucked into a new online world.
No, not Google+ (still working out how worthwhile it will be vs. how worthwhile it could be).
Pinterest.
Explaining Pinterest to the uninitiaed is rather difficult. You can't really explore it until you join, and once you join you can't really understand it until you explore. A lot. It's a very experiential site -- the more you dive into it, the more you become one with it. It may sound very zen, and a tad creepy, but I have never found a 'fluff' (or as professionals call them 'social networking') site that makes wasting hours of time on it feel so useful. There's not much in the way of creating connections beyond a very surface level. There's no witty banter about life, politics, the weather, or CARMAGEDDON! There's no constant stream of outside links to click, videos to watch, or Farm games to play. It is, simply, a giant bulletin board of awesome/inspiring/pretty things. The users are a collective of people who like to create, express, explore, design, craft, inspire... and gaze at pretty things.

I'm a quote whore, and the number of amazing quotes I have found in exploring Pinterest astound me.
For example, I found this one this morning.



Remind you of anything?
"Sometimes I get nostalgic for the time when this massive universe called The Internet did not exist, nor was it so easy to create a stream of words, thoughts and ideas and then delete them in a flash.
Sometimes I want a physical record of my creations, not just a glorified collection of electric pulses and digital code translated to 'my work.'"

That, in a pin, is why I love Pinterest.

Happy Lightsaber Day!

In honor of the 40th birthday of one of my first, and deepest, celebrity crushes (and a man who would have made the original PFH list were he not already married when he became even semi-famous), I give you:

Forty Reasons I Love Ewan McGregor
(some of these are purely physical – like anyone would make my list of Potential Future Husbands without being delectably attractive)

40. Save a horse, ride a biker – a biker who traverses the globe with his best friend. Repeatedly.

39. He makes this beard actually work

38. Taking up the family business – though warned against it, followed after his uncle Dennis in taking up acting for his career

37. Familial Star Wars ties FTW – Wedge Antilles, meet Obi-Wan Kenobi… oh, wait…

36. His lightsaber – anyone who wields one of these bad boys earns extra points in Hotness (yes, even Christopher Lee)

35. That smile – GUH. *faints*

34. Cool former roomies – When I get access to a TARDIS, I’m totally going back to the days when Ewan, Jude Law and Jonny Lee Miller used to bang around together.

33. He’s crawled into and out of a toilet – now that’s flexibility…

32. His feet.

31. He’s not afraid to wear eyeliner – and looks damn good in it.

30. His adorably flawed southern accent in Big Fish.

29. Big Fish – possibly Burton’s best film, and one sans Johnny Depp, and who does it star…

28. Scottish, without the unintelligible brogue = hot

27. Looks great in a kilt = hotter

26. Honey and glitter and leather, oh my!

25. Has one of the most heartrending and exciting episodes of ER to his credit.

24. Those eyes…

23. Can be forgiven for The Island because (spoiler) there are scenes with two Ewans at once.

22. Has perfect pitch and ain’t afraid to break it out.

21. Devoted family man. Now that is hot.

20. When I get around to crafting the Gay Nudist Musical, he will be the first one I call.

19. Made time with Christian Bale and Jonathan Rhys Meyers… in the same movie.

18. Has played a gay/bi man so many times I lost count = secure in his sexuality AND non-judgmental about others’

17. Looks good even with a rattail.

16. Priest garb = forbidden hotness

15. He’s what makes Moulin Rouge believable, emotional, and painful. Without him it’s just a story about a singing slut who’s dying but will whore herself out one last time to save her theatre.

14. Did I mention the motorcycle?

13. Animated films: check. (Robots, Valiant, etc)

12. Tortured author: check. (James Joyce)

11. Rogue Austen Man: check (Emma)

10. Jedi: checkmate.

9. Stunning profile.

8. Protective of his family and insistent on his kids living outside the spotlight.

7. I love so much of his work (and him), I can usually forget I ever saw Eye of the Beholder. In the theatre.

6. Down With Love: innuendo can be just as hot as full-frontal.

5. His ‘lightsaber’ – you knew it was coming.

4. Humanitarian = hot

3. His laugh… especially his giggle.

2. Coolness under pressure – the man played guitar and sang surrounded by European maifa psychos with guns. That takes a healthy dose of…

1. Fearlessness. Whether it’s riding motorcycles around the world or baring all for the camera, the man knows his limits but is never afraid to test them.

Falling on Swords While Falling for Wizards

One of the ‘joys’ of moving is potentially losing one’s DVR forever and thus all the awesome hours of television contained within (though if DirecTV can mount a dish on the side of our complex, we probably won’t lose it… still, one can never be too careful when it comes to precious television – teacher, mother, secret lover). While packing this weekend I watched a slew of movies* along with a couple hours of mindless television and five episodes of Merlin.
Out of all this stimulation, I found myself surprised (though I shouldn’t be) that what affected and stuck with me most was Merlin, particularly one of the scenes toward the end of "The Changeling." Seeing Merlin finally starting to take the reigns as more than Arthur’s servant, beginning to become his adviser, really exposes some of the depth and complexity added to the series throughout season three. It only gets deeper from this episode forward, but even this singular moment in an otherwise ‘creature of the week silliness’ episode points toward better and more in-depth stories as the series continues to progress.
It’s also pretty damned adorable to hear Colin Morgan’s tone of voice shift when Merlin’s allowed to be adviserly.

From a personal standpoint, the destiny-laden, ceremonial sword stabbing doesn’t feel so far removed from situations I’ve experienced (and some I am currently experiencing), which makes the ancient ‘rules’ of chivalry, duty, and honor seem less removed from daily modern life than they typically feel. While we’re not all destined to rule kingdoms, or advise on how to do so, or charged with the protection of VIPs and/or entire nations, we all have aspects of our life for which we are (or feel) utterly culpable as individuals and sometimes it seems easier to throw ourselves on the ceremonial sword rather than face up to what we know is right, rather than give into something out of a sense of duty or tradition.

As a writer and English major I’ve often felt that one of the great benefits my degree has over my writing is that it taught me all the rules so I would know how and why I break them, when I do. Granted, I learned tons of nifty tidbits about life, society, history, industry, creativity, war, love, pain, beauty, theatre, poetry, music, politics and what makes the world worth living in for different folks at different points in our shared history. Still, much like Arthur following his instinct (and Merlin’s advice) to do what feels right and not just what is expected of him, I feel that with both writing and life we all need a reminder once in a while that traditions can and should be broken when there is reason compelling enough to alter them.


Love, in an unselfish and giving state, complicated as it can be, is a damn good reason to buck against tradition in favor of creating something better.


*Slew = Eight. Miranda, Pygmalion, Only Angels Have Wings, Alex Rider: Operation Stormbreaker, Bride & Prejudice, Pride & Prejudice, and Sneakers


Merlin: I've brought you your ceremonial sword.
Arthur: Is that for me to fall on?
Merlin: Hopefully not. What's wrong?
Arthur: You wouldn't understand, Merlin. You have no idea what it's like to have a destiny you can't escape.
Merlin: Destinies are troublesome things. You feel trapped. Like your whole life has been planned out for you and you've got no control over anything and sometimes you don't even know if what destiny has decided is really the best thing at all.
Arthur: How come you're so knowledgeable?
Merlin: I read a book.
Arthur: And what would this book tell you? Should I marry her?
Merlin: It's not really my place to say, sire.
Arthur: I'm asking you, it's your job to answer.
Merlin: If you really want to know what I think? I think you're mad. I think you're all mad. People should marry for love, not convenience. And if Uther thinks an unhappy king makes for a stronger kingdom, then he's wrong because you may be destined to rule Camelot but you have a choice... as to how you do it.

Writing Buddy

Different than a diving buddy (who stands by with oxygen) or a porn buddy (who pledges, in the even of your untimely death, to remove all the pornography in your place before your parents can find it), a writing buddy can be many things to a writer.
Sometimes I have used it as a term for a co-author when I don’t want to sound too prissy and formal about it. I’ve known others to use it as a code word for a glorified intellectual fuckbuddy (“This is Jason, my ‘writing buddy.’ We get together on Wednesday evenings and alternate weekends to discuss Pynchon and Hemingway, work on our novels, drink wine… and screw each other senseless.” You know, like you do… or other people do, at least…). Still others utilize it as a casual term for someone you see on occasion – a friend, colleague, or someone you met in a writing group – with whom you share a need to be culpable for your progress.
This last usage I find myself identifying with at the moment, and I have to say, the relationship is anything but casual. If not for an appointment with a writing buddy last night (who is also a friend/colleague/actress/theatre-maker/all-around amazing woman), my writer’s block may have gone on for weeks, perhaps even months (it has been known…). I won’t wax on about how devastating a continued block is, or what tactics I may have been forced to employ should the block have continued much longer (though some ill-advised adventures in debauchery were on the list), because my block might have broken on its own in a few days… though I doubt it.
What I do want to impart is that a ‘writing buddy’ who is there to be a fellow soldier in the war against writer’s block, even if it’s only to set a time and place to write your separate projects concurrently, is just as important as a diving or porn buddy. A good writing buddy stands by with the oxygen of support and understanding, and even a breath of conversation when you’re beating your head against the wall looking for the right words. Just by sitting near you and participating in the battle they clear out many of the distracting thoughts, fears, and hidden guilt hiding in the closets of your mind (or under your bed, or slipped in behind other thoughts you know no one else will ever explore, so it’s safe there…).
Praise in the form of blog lauding and internet hugs go out to my writing buddy*, the marvelous Nina.




*She even gets paid to write -- something I sorely miss, thus I am not only grateful for her, I'm jealous of her ;)

Days of Green and Red

No, I’m not talking about the Christmas holidays. I’m talking about two major dates for an Irish Anglophile: St. Patrick’s Day and Red Nose Day.
Since I had the migraine from hell most of the week (it’s my body’s way of reminding me who’s in charge and why I should take care of it, the fucker), I wasn’t quite in the full Go Green spirit for St. Patrick’s Day. However, it was going to take more than crushing pain with a side of nausea to keep me from having a good time. I spent the evening with some of the most awesome co-worker/friend/theatre peeps in the world. After a little pre-gaming at my place (complete with my iPod playing a goodly amount of my traditional [read: beautiful yet depressing] Irish tunes, we all jammed ourselves into a tiny Toyota and drove a mere six blocks to a local Irish pub. Though they’d added a tent out back to make up for the teensy-ness of the place, the holiday + lack of cover charge = actual line outside the bar. A five minute wait time became fifteen with only two of the five people in front of us being let in, so we skipped our way down another two blocks to a favored watering hole where the $5 cover which previously hindered our desire to go there quickly turned into a blessing as we were able to obtain a table, down some car bombs, get some grub, watch some great Irish dancers and cut a few jigs ourselves. All in all a very good night, with everyone satisfactorily tipsy and on the way home by 10pm.
Red Nose Day is reason #7,862 on the list of Why I Live in the Wrong Country. It’s also very high on the list of programming I wish BBCAmerica would offer in the states. It may be a Brit-run fundraiser, but who says giving money to Africa through England is in any way less needed than giving it through the US? The Brits actually care enough to have a marathon (plus weeks of pre-shows) of original programming built solely around the purpose of raising funds for charity. Remember how the US had Comic Relief? Only available on premium channels and mostly live sketches by comics for one evening? Yeah, the Brits do it so much better (as per usual). There’s dance and song competitions leading to the big day, there’s fundraising via web, TV, twitter, etc. There’s a long telethon hosted by great celebs, and a slew of original skits produced just for the event – including new Doctor Who and a brilliant parody of Downton Abbey (it's hard not to crack up at Simon Callow as Julian Fellows). Sure, you can download some of these gems on iTunes or look them up on YouTube, but it's not the same.
I’m not sure how to go about it, but I really want to put a bug up someone’s butt in the upper management world of BBCA to get them to broadcast Red Nose Day, and Pudsey Day, in the US. I’d be happy to cough up a few quid to aid Africa if it means I get to see wacky Who and Merlin skits and seen Davina McCall, with her enigmatic bottom, macking on gay AND straight blokes…

Edit Me!

This cry echoes through the upper cabinet of my desk, amplified by its metal casing. One of my novels sits there in manuscript form, impatiently awaiting my (semi)daily edit session. Braintrust that I am, I decided to participate in National Novel Editing Month about a week into the month. We're now at the halfway mark and I'm not even at 25% dedication. I participated just because I though it would get me back on the novel horse, exposing some of the major flaws in this series and hopefully present remedies to some of them…
OK, honestly, I hoped it might inspire my writing brain again, and as of yet my imagination is barren as Frodo’s lips in Mordor.
So yes, I’m writing a blog entry about the difficulty of editing and writing, which eats up time I could be using to do either of these things. Trouble is my brain can’t seem to reconcile itself to achieving the necessary concentration for editing or writing creatively. Thus, I plug away at this little blog so I at least feel as though my productivity isn’t ranking entirely in negative numbers.

Spring Into Eclecticism

Mid-march always seems a bizarre period to me. Ignoring the “March is Hell” mantra which I’ve carried for over a decade, when I lived back in the frozen tundra of Michigan, March represented a time when you knew spring approached, but winter still gripped you in its icy clutches. It just taunted you by releasing its grasp a little from time to time, only to yank you back into the below-freezing, ice-laden hell you’d lived in since November-ish. Now I live in a much more temperate climate with basically three seasons: cool(ish), rainy, and HOT… and rainy and cool don’t last long. Yesterday morning the classical station DJ commented that we’re now in the period where we likely won’t see below seventy degrees during the day until November or December. Yet I find that emotionally this time of year still holds some residual effects of near-Springs past, especially in regards to my musical leanings. I find it difficult to give into peppy pop tunes without balancing them with the more morose, slow dirge-like tunes of the winter. Just as the flowers, even here, aren’t all ready to bloom, I’m not ready to emerge from my emotional cocoon and embrace the warmer weather with happier music… and yet I can’t quite resist the siren call of approaching spring.
Thus I give you a sampling of the tunes which have thus far occupied my March:

Jason Walker – Down
Sara Bareilles – Breathe Again
Tony Lucca – Always
Loreena McKennitt – Brian Boru’s March
Michael Bublé – Hollywood
Tony Lucca – Like Love
Darren Criss & Lea Michele – Don’t You Want Me (yes, Darren… yes I do…)
Eliza Doolittle – Missing (kitschy name aside, any spunky little Brit who samples “Come Softly to Me” gets major bonus points)
Plumb – Cut
Imelda May – Love Tattoo
Sky Ferreira – Obsession
Hanson - Give a Little
Digital Daggers – Head Over Heels
Ernie Halter – Black Coffee in Bed

Trust Your King, Baby

Two very geektastic things have occurred thus far today. It’s Ash Wednesday (no meat so far for me, but that’s not the Ash I’m talking about) aaaaaaannnnnnd the airdate for the start of the new Doctor Who season was announced. I may have actually jumped up and down like a five-year-old about that for a few seconds. Mostly because it seems that the BBC and its American subsidiary have finally come to realize that making us Yanks wait weeks, and even days, for new episodes of Doctor Who in this ever-increasingly connected world that we live in is actually a form of extreme mental and emotional torture. We can avoid the interwebs for a few hours while the time zones align properly, but keeping ourselves from (even accidentally) spoilers after just twenty four hours have passed is nearly impossible. So thank you, Gods of the BBC, for your benevolent understanding and for succumbing to the will of the people.
Also, the new tagline: Trust Your Doctor = love.

While I feel like a horrible Campbell-ite for forgetting the importance (and if I’m honest, the existence) of Ash Wednesday, my office has been chatting about it enough to make up a little ground. I find myself pondering why there are no pubs/bars/etc that celebrate this day. It would certainly be a hit among horror geeks and filmmaking hipsters in Michigan (especially in Grand Rapids and around The D), and there are plenty of LA people who I’m sure would love any excuse to drink and watch cheesy horror movies… come to think of it, I think all decent-sized cities have enough horror-loving lushes to warrant at least one bar holding an event that screens at least one Evil Dead movie while offering Ash-inspired cocktails.
When I open the comfort food pub (plus food truck) with my friends, we are so doing this every year.

Hail to the King, baby!

Digestible Linkage

In addition to spouting off a fair amount this past week, I’ve also been catching up on reading. Sadly not novel reading as my attention span has yet to recover from the Death Flu, but I’ve been reading many interesting and varied articles across the interwebs – enough of them that I feel compelled to share some of the highlights:

Fellow LA Theatre Slave, Gedaly, has a great piece on how theatre still markets itself like it’s 1936. While I believe intrinsic changes need to occur at the AEA level to even begin to move us forward (because even non-equity houses fear the wrath of the AEA), I do concur that internet marketing, specifically in video form needs to be made better use of in productions. The secondary hang-up is that in small theatre, which needs the marketing most, the desire to find inventive ways of incorporating video marketing is often there but the manpower to make it happen on less-than-no-budget is not. That speaks more to the inherent lack of non-actors and designers involved in theatrical ventures (that aren’t revivals or rip-offs of tried-and-true hits) than to anyone directly involved in a production, but it still is a root cause of this problem.

Author J.S. Chancellor has decided to go for pomp (and hopefully avoid broke) in advertising that his new (and unfortunately partially leaked) novel will be available for free download in March. As a starting novel in a series, this grand gesture could garner enough support from readership to gain buzz and profit for the succeeding novels.

Chamber Musician Today features a guest blog on how/why to join a vocal ensemble. While it lacks a bit in the directional ‘hows’ of joining (i.e. what to be prepared for in different ensemble types and what to expect in audition/interview processes, and how the rehearsal and performance schedules can differ between various groups), it does offer several varied options for vocal groups and what might appeal to potential members. As someone who’s constantly toying with the idea of finding a new vocal home, this gave me a little push to maybe give it a go.

This interview with Andrew Chambliss would have knocked me on my ass, if I hadn’t already been on it. There’s nothing new or astonishing in the article; it’s just a successful writer-geek talking about his work and those he’s worked with. However, as he’s a) a phenomenal, young writer and b) has worked on shows with writers I worship and adore, it’s pretty much a geekgasm-causing insight into the inner-world of writers I would love to know and would consider myself lucky to emulate.
TV writers also hold a bit of enigmatic awe for me as the concept of anyone’s mind working that fast, let alone a room full of people working at that pace, astonishes me.

All right, so I can’t help but be a bit self-indulgent as this final link (via CJDirector) is to a site which put me on their main page. I’m down in the ‘Health’ section, which is a little off for the entry, but I will certainly take publicity in any form I can get – especially for this entry on music snobbery. I will use pretty much any avenue I can to headbutt the ignorance out of people resistant to Hanson.