LemonOrangeBanana

Matilda and the Pilgrindians

noreply@blogger.com (Laura Richter) — Sun, 18 Nov 2012 10:00:00 +0000

Matilda woke up one gloomy Monday morning and looked out at the sky. The gray clouds made her sad. Then, suddenly, it began to rain and Matilda was thrilled. She jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom, rushing past her little brother Lance.

Lance saw the happy look on Matilda’s face and he was just disgusted. “It’s raining. What are you so happy about?” he asked. Matilda smiled at him as she answered, “We get to do crafts on rain day!”

Matilda was cheerful while she ate her breakfast and it was driving Lance nuts. He wanted to eat his breakfast in peace, but Matilda was singing between bites of egg. It was some stupid song about rainy day crafts. That was it. He couldn’t take it another minute. Lance snapped. “Shut up, already!” he yelled.

Matilda stared at Lance in shock. Lance looked a bit shocked himself. The silence was broken by the soft crinkle of the newspaper as Mom lowered it to look across the table at her son. Lance knew from the look on her face he was in deep trouble but he was still mad. “I don’t get to do crafts on rain day,” he said, “How come I have to listen to her brag about it?”

Mom peeped over her reading glasses at him. She liked to do that now that she had reading glasses. It made her look extra wise. “Lance, I don’t think your sister was bragging. She was just looking forward to doing something special. I’m sure there are things you get to do today that she’ll miss out on.”

Lance was skeptical. “Like what?” he challenged. Mom picked up her newspaper as she smiled at her son. “You have all day to figure that out.”

She did it again. Mom always knew how to stump Lance. He looked at Matilda and he didn’t feel so angry any more. “I’m sorry, Matilda.” Matilda smiled back at him and said, “Thanks.”

In the car, on the way to school, Matilda taught Lance her rainy day craft song. She was still singing it when they dropped her off. “Well, have fun at pre-school, Lance. I’ll make you something nice for crafts day!” Matilda beamed.

Matilda got out and walked to the front door of her school. She didn’t rush because she liked the sound of the rain on the hood of her rain jacket. Smack-pack-pack. Picketty-smack-plock.

When Matilda got inside, she went to line up with the other first graders. Kindergarten was fun, but she knew so much more now than she did before. She smiled wistfully at the kindergarten kids in the next line as she thought about all the stuff she knew now that she was in first grade. This was going to be their first rainy day crafts day and she was very excited for them.

Before she had any more time to reminisce about the good old days, Matilda’s teacher, Mrs. Bixby appeared to lead the first graders to their classroom. Matilda followed along cheerfully. She put her lunch box in her cubicle and hung her wet coat up on her hook.

The desks were all arranged in clusters of four so kids could work together. Matilda liked this configuration because it reminded her of flowers. Matilda always thought it must look pretty to a fly hanging on the ceiling. She went to her desk and sat down. She looked to her left where Jason Warner was sitting. “Hi, Jason Warner,” she said.

“Hi,” he said. Jason Warner was always a boy of few words. Matilda appreciated that about him. When he did say something, people always paid attention since it didn’t happen all the time.

Matilda looked to her right where Freedom was sitting. “Hi, Freedom,” she said.

“Hey, Matilda. I’m glad you got here safe through all that rain. Wet roads can be treacherous,” he said. Matilda had long since become accustomed to Freedom’s sense of drama. No event was too small and danger lurked everywhere. Matilda never worried about anything when he was around. She knew if anything was not right, he’d spot it right away.

Matilda couldn’t wait to start her rainy day crafts. She got out her pack of crayons and extra paper so she would be ready for anything.

It seemed like Matilda was the only one who knew what was in store for them today because no one else had their crayons out. She looked to her left. Jason Warner didn’t have his crayons out. Then she looked to her right. Freedom didn’t have his crayons out. The desk across from her was empty. George Foreman No Relation used to sit there but his family moved away and the desk had been empty ever since. They had known each other since kindergarten and they all missed him very much.

Nope. No one else seemed ready for crafts. Matilda raised her hand so she could share her observation with everyone. Mrs. Bixby didn’t allow anyone to share unless they raised their hand first.

“Mrs. Bixby! Mrs. Bixby!” Matilda waved her arm frantically but Mrs. Bixby didn’t call on her. Instead, there was a knock at the door and in came the school’s principal, Mrs. Harrington. Mrs. Bixby and Mrs. Harrington had one of those quiet conversations grown-ups like to have from time to time.

Jason Warner leaned over and whispered to Matilda, “Why do you think Mrs. Harrington is talking to Mrs. Bixby?” Freedom leaned over and chimed in, “Whatever it is, it can’t be good. When grown-ups whisper like that, it usually means they’re up to something.”

Matilda nodded in agreement. This is certainly true at her house. Ever since she started learning to read, she noticed Mom and Dad stopped spelling out loud. Now, they just whisper.

Matilda got out one of her crayons and held it over the paper, committed to intense listening. If Mrs. Bixby and Mrs. Harrington were going to try spelling words, Matilda would be ready for them. They could use phonics to sound out the message after she wrote all the letters down on her paper.

Mrs. Harrington opened the door to the classroom and someone new came into the room. A girl. A new girl. Mrs. Bixby reached out and shook the girl’s hand. “I’m Mrs. Bixby and this is my first grade class. Everyone, welcome our new student, Sasha Myers to Taft elementary.”

“Welcome, Sasha!” yelled everybody.

“She’s probably going to sit with us,” whispered Matilda.

“They’re trying to make us forget George Foreman No Relation,” hissed Freedom.

“They just want to make us do what they want us to do.”

“We already do what they want us to do,” said Jason Warner. He was right, as usual. Mrs. Bixby pointed in their direction. “Why don’t you take that empty seat over there, Sasha? Everyone get your readers out.”

The trio quieted down as Sasha Myer New Girl approached and sat at George Foreman No Relation’s old desk. “Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” they said back.

“We only have three readers.” Again, Jason Warner was right.

Freedom freaked out, “What are we going to do?! We don’t have enough readers!”

“Maybe we can share,” Matilda suggested, “Jason Warner can share with Sasha and I can share with you. That way we’re all sharing and everything is equal-schmequal. Look at everyone else. We’re the only ones who get to share.”

Matilda looked to her left and Jason Warner nodded in agreement. Matilda looked to her right and Freedom shook his head yes. They all looked at Sasha. Sasha realized pretty quickly that these were some goofy people. She liked them immediately. A smile creeped across her face and she said, “I like it.”

“Turn to chapter three,” said Mrs. Bixby. Matilda looked at her crayons but reading sounded like that would be fun, too. She turned to chapter three and leaned to her right so she and Freedom could share. The title of chapter three was ‘Pilgrims and Indians.’

“Pilgrims make me hungry,” said Freedom.

“Yes. They make me think of Thanksgiving,” Matilda agreed.

“Turkey is my favorite,” said Sasha.

“I like stuffing best,” said Jason Warner.

Sasha, Freedom and Matilda all said, “MMMmmmm!!”

Mrs. Bixby smiled to herself. She heard Matilda, Jason Warner, Freedom and Sasha talking about pilgrims, turkey and stuffing. It made her feel good that her students were being so nice to someone new.

Mrs. Bixby could remember how hard it was for her on her first day at a new school. It was scary, but her first new school friend was Karen Wilbert. Karen Wilbert made her feel right at home. ‘Sasha’s lucky,’ Mrs. Bixby thought, ‘she’s got four new friends.’

After turning to chapter three in her teacher’s reader, Mrs. Bixby began the reading lesson. Mrs. Bixby was a good reader and everyone liked the sound of her voice. Of all the teachers they ever had, she was the best. She even did the voices of all the people in whatever story she shared with class. It was easy to pay attention when Mrs. Bixby read out loud.

She read to them about how hard the journey was for the pilgrims as they crossed the Atlantic Ocean. Mrs. Bixby pulled down a map of the world and showed them all where to find the Atlantic Ocean.

“Who wants to help me get the Pilgrims across the Atlantic Ocean?” Mrs. Bixby asked and everyone raised their hands. She scanned all the faces and settled on someone, “Anjelica, can you help the Pilgrims with their boat?”

Anjelica Munoz stepped up to the front of the room and accepted the plastic ship Mrs. Bixby got from the shelf where she kept things like that.

“Okay, Anjelica. You start here in Plymouth, England,” and she pointed to the map, “And you need to get the Pilgrims over here to Plymouth, Rhode Island.” Mrs. Bixby pointed to the other side of the Atlantic Ocean.

Mrs. Bixby turned to the class and said, “You guys have to help me make the sounds of the ocean. Ready? WHOOSH! SWISH!”

Everyone joined in making ocean noises. Matilda thought her group made the best ocean noises. Of course, they had the benefit of an expert to help them. Jason Warner was really good at it since his family went to the beach for a week every summer.

Freedom, Jason Warner, Matilda and Sasha all gave it their all. So did all their classmates and being an ocean turned out to be hard work. Mrs. Bixby cheered everyone on. If Anjelica was sailing too fast, Mrs. Bixby told everyone to blow hard and make it hard for the Pilgrims.

When the class made it sound like the wind was blowing very hard, Anjelica made the boat look like it was going off course or fighting the strong gusts. Mrs. Bixby even blew in her face. This made everyone laugh, but Anjelica laughed the most.

By the time Anjelica got the ship to the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, everyone was exhausted from whooshing and swishing and huffing and puffing. Everyone except Freedom, that is. He saw the look of amazement on Sasha’s face.

“I do yoga with my Mom. I have excellent breath control,” he confessed.

“You must be good. Yoga looks hard,” said Sasha.

Freedom snapped his fingers, “It’s a cinch. I can show you some at recess.”

Matilda was beginning to worry about when they would be able to do crafts. No one seemed to even know that rainy day crafts were supposed to happen. But Matilda loved doing yoga, so she had that to look forward to doing that at recess.

Mrs. Bixby looked at all the pink-cheeked faces of her students to see if everyone had caught their breath before she continued. She picked up her reader and cleared her throat before resuming reading what happened next. All her students leaned forward, eager to find out when the Pilgrims would meet the Indians.

“How would everyone like to try out being Pilgrims and Indians?” Mrs. Bixby asked. Of course, everyone raised their hands.

“I want to be an Indian!” shouted someone. “I’m a Pilgrim!” shouted someone else.

“Okay, okay! Let’s settle down. This is going to be your individual group activity. Each table gets to decide who’s going to be a Pilgrim or an Indian,” said Mrs. Bixby.

Matilda leaned over and whispered to Jason Warner, “Why do we have to choose?”

Freedom heard Matilda and piped up, “Of course you have to choose. You can’t be both.”

“Why not?” asked Sasha.

Freedom threw his hands in the air in exasperation and looked to Jason Warner for support.

“Yeah, why not?” asked Jason Warner.

Freedom sighed heavily, “And I thought you were the voice of reason around here.”

“Haven’t you been paying attention to chapter three? The Pilgrims would have died if they didn’t open themselves up to new ideas. The Indians taught them new things that were different from how they were used to doing them,” said Matilda.

“We could learn a lot from their example,” agreed Sasha.

“But we have to tell Mrs. Bixby who we are when she gets to our table!” Freedom countered.

“Pilgrindians.” Jason Warner looked particularly pleased with himself when the other three turned to look at him, “We’ll tell her that we’re Pilgrindians.”

“I don’t know. I’m just not feeling it,” Freedom said.

“I have an idea.” Sasha looked over at Matilda’s crayons. “Freedom will feel like a Pilgrindian if he looks like a Pilgrindian. All we need is to change outlook.”

Jason Warner saw what Sasha was looking at and could guess what she was thinking.

“We need some hats,” Jason Warner winked at Matilda, “That way, we get to do crafts and get our work done!”

Matilda smiled at her friends and opened her box of crayons. “It’s no secret. I love crafts,” she passed out colors to her friends.

Even Freedom couldn’t resist the idea of doing crafts. He accepted his favorite green crayon and a piece of paper but for Freedom, the fun stopped there. Sasha noticed something was wrong.

“Why aren’t you coloring, Freedom?” she asked.

“I don’t know what I’m making. I don’t know what a Pilgrindian hat looks like.”

“Pilgrims have those black hats with a buckle on it. I’m putting a big buckle on mine. Who’s got the gold crayon?” Matilda looked around for the color she needed.

“Don’t forget feathers,” said Jason Warner who was too busy coloring in an array of feathers to look up from his work.

“Do you think Pilgrindians would have bugs in their hats?” Freedom asked cautiously.

“OOOooohh! I’m going to have a bug, too!” said Matilda.

“Me, too,” said Sasha.

Freedom was encouraged and went to work on his Pilgrindian hat. Soon they were all hard at work.

Jason Warner opened his desk and produced his pocket stapler. He was done drawing his hat and he stapled it into a circle so it would fit on his head. In true Pilgrindian spirit, he shared his stapler with the others so they could wear their hats as well.

Once the hats were assembled they all put theirs on. Freedom had the most excellent spiders and bugs dancing around his hat. Sasha was very creative in her use of rainbow colors. Jason Warner got the ruffley edges of feathers down but that was expected given his meticulous attention to detail. Matilda had the best buckle but she made sure to share the gold crayon with her Pilgrindian compatriots.

They put their hats on and looked around at each other. “Gosh,” said Freedom, “I hope mine looks as good as yours, Sasha.”

“You definitely inspired me to put bugs on my hat, but I don’t know if they’re as good as yours,” she said.

“Matilda has the best buckle,” said Jason Warner.

“You have the best feathers,” said Matilda, “But face it, we all look good!”

No one said so, but they all smiled big smiles. She was right, of course. They did look good.

The group of kids at the next cluster of desks was staring with their mouths hanging open in disbelief. Kylie Garnet leaned across the aisle and hissed, “What do you think you’re doing?”

The gang just looked at each other, not sure what to say when Jason Warner piped up, “Strategizing.” Although a man of few words, Jason Warner always seemed to use the right ones.

“Don’t be stupid.” Kylie shot back, “You guys are just showing off because you have the new girl at your desk.”

Maybe it was the tone of Kylie’s voice. Maybe it was the fact that she called them stupid. Maybe it was the hats. But the back corner of the room suddenly had Mrs. Bixby’s attention and she made a bee-line for the hot zone of her first grade classroom.

“What’s going on here, guys?” she asked.

Kylie Garnett pointed her pointiest finger at them and yelled, “They’re strategizing!”

Mrs. Bixby looked at Matilda, Freedom, Jason Warner and Sasha and waited for an explanation. Wisely, they all looked to Jason Warner to be their spokes person. Jason Warner cleared his throat and stood up.

Mrs. Bixby could tell that what Jason had to say was important. He usually kept his remarks brief but when he had something important to say, it was always well thought out. Clearing his throat was a dead give away that this was about to be one of those moments.

“Mrs. Bixby, our assignment was to choose roles for the rest of the day. After careful consideration of the facts you presented, we realized that there were good elements from each group. The Pilgrims showed courage with their determination to leave home to make a new life in a place they knew nothing about. The Indians showed kindness and generosity in the way they took time to care for the Pilgrims, teaching them techniques that enabled them to survive in this new land. How do you choose, courage or kindness?”

Freedom stood up by his desk, “So we decided to be both.”

“We’re Pilgrindians,” said Matilda and she stood up.

“And we got to do rainy day crafts,” added Sasha as she stood by her new friends.

Rainy day crafts! Mrs. Bixby totally forgot. The kids love to do crafts on days when it rains and she didn’t have anything planned. And what was she going to do about this Pilgrindian idea?

“I want to be a Pilgrindian, too,” came the first voice.

“Me, too!” came the second and the third. Soon, the whole class was raising their hands, volunteering to be Pilgrindians.

Mrs. Bixby was a good teacher and she could think fast. Jason Warner asked an important question. How could she choose which was more important, courage or kindness?

“Jason Warner has made an excellent point,” she said. “Both courage and kindness are important. Today, we’re going all going to be Pilgrindians.”

Everyone cheered.

“I think it’s time for rainy day crafts and our craft for today is going to be…Pilgrindian Hats!” she announced and everyone got busy making their Pilgrindian hats.

Everyone except Matilda, Freedom, Jason Warner and Sasha, who all had Pilgrindian hats already. They looked around at everyone having fun and looked back at each other.

Kylie Garnett leaned over and smiled, “um, I like your bugs, Freedom.”

“Want me to help you put bugs on your Pilgrindian hat?” he asked.

She nodded and Freedom got his four scariest colored crayons out and he looked as Sasha, “Your bugs are really excellent. Want to help give people bugs?”

“Sure!” said Sasha. She followed Freedom over to Kylie’s desk and they were soon hard at work.

Jason Warner got another piece of paper out. Matilda looked at him with curiosity, “What are you doing? You already have a great Pilgrindian hat.”

He didn’t even look up from his new masterpiece. He simply said, “George Foreman No Relation.”

Matilda recognized this was a good idea. George Foreman No Relation might have moved away but he was still their friend and he deserved a Pilgrindian hat. This reminded her that someone else would need a Pilgrindian hat. She got out a fresh piece of paper and went to work on a Pilgrindian hat for someone very special.

Mrs. Bixby looked around her classroom at everyone working hard but she noticed that the Pilgrindian spirit had definitely taken over her students. They were all encouraging each other and helping each other out.

Mrs. Bixby felt inspired and decided she needed a Pilgrindian hat of her own. She got out a piece of paper but realized she didn’t have any crayons. She looked at her choices and saw she had a red pen, a blue pen and a black pen – and nothing else. Jose Garcia saw his teacher staring at her piece of paper and looking a little sad.

“Want to share my crayons, Mrs. Bixby?” he asked.

“Thank you, Jose. Yes, I would.” And she scrunched into a chair beside him and settled down to work on her hat.

When they were done, Mrs. Bixby’s first grade class put on their Pilgrindian hats. For the rest of the day, everyone was very Pilgrindian. Students who were good at math helped students who weren’t so good at math. Students who weren’t so good at math accepted the help, because they knew they would get a chance to help in some other way even if it wasn’t going to be today.

The day flew by and before she knew it, Matilda was climbing into her Mom’s van and it wasn’t raining any more.

“How was your day, sweetie?” Mom asked.

“Mom, it was really awesome. I’m a Pilgrindian.”

“A Pilgrindian, what’s that?” Mom asked.

“It’s complicated, Mom, but I can tell you this. Being a Pilgrindian is an important part of my life.”

There was no time to explain. Mom was pulling up to Lance’s preschool. Lance’s teacher was standing out front, holding Lance by the hand. Once Lance was buckled into his seat they were on their way again.

Mom asked Lance, “How was your day, sweetie?”

Lance folded his arms across his chest in a huff. “We didn’t get to do rainy day crafts.”

Matilda reached into her book bag and pulled out her Pilgrindian hat for someone special. Her someone special was her brother Lance.

“Lance, I made this for you today. So you can be a Pilgrindian like me.”

On the way home she explained what a Pilgrindian is and when they got inside, Lance and Matilda made Pilgrindian hats for Mom and Dad. Everyone wore their hats through dinner and Lance and Matilda even helped clear the table when dinner was done.

Lance put his dish in the dishwasher, “Matilda, let me put your dish in here. I want to help.”

Matilda gave him her dirty plate, “Thanks, Lance.”

“I really like my hat. I like being a Pilgrindian.”

“Me, too,” said Matilda. She smiled remembering how happy she was when she discovered today was going to be a rainy day. She sang her rainy day crafts song as she got ready for bed.

Once she was snuggled down under the covers, Matilda shivered until her feet warmed up.

“I wonder what tomorrow will be like,” she thought as she drifted off to sleep.

The End.

More to Stand Up Than Jokes and Laughter

noreply@blogger.com (Laura Richter) — Wed, 20 Jun 2012 22:41:00 +0000

There’s so more that goes into doing stand up than just writing some jokes that trigger laughter in dark clubs that require a two drink minimum. I’m sure it won’t come as any surprise to say that it also takes a measure of courage to stand in front of a group of people and talk. But it takes real guts to expose your fears, vulnerabilities and all the goofy things that make you, you.

Going to class every week, I had the rare privilege of watching other people in the class evolve. I found myself wondering what it would be like to run a school like this. I saw that my teacher juggle multiple roles: part Sherpa, part parent, part therapist, full-time comic and sometimes drinking buddy. Class was like the Our Gang clubhouse where “girlz” were allowed. The studio was a place where people aired out their lives in complete safety. For some, what started out as a bucket list item became the flicker of a new career dream. For others, it was the “me” time they needed away from family and work demands. Most of us discovered new friendships that were instantly and deeply important. What about the school teacher/grandmother who is raising her grandkids? She found a place to be blue and we laughed until we cried. It was safe and wild at the same time. We dug around in our lives for something to joke about and confessed all the unfunny things that were happening to us in the days between class because we knew that’s where the comedy gold was. Almost everyone struck a vein worth mining.

Despite our differences, we found each other’s stories compelling and relatable. There’s the girl who smokes a little too much pot and has a boyfriend no one particularly trusts or likes. Hard to resist her reaction -- No one else has to fuck him, so why should you care? She’s right… unless he breaks her heart and she winds up sofa surfing until she gets her feet back under her. Perhaps the most profound event was also the most heartbreaking and brave. One comedian lost his dad quite unexpectedly and he managed to share the story of pulling the plug as one of the most honest, real and funny things any of us ever heard. Everyone who heard him felt what he was saying. It was, indeed, a privilege.

People survive divorce. People survive cancer. People survive, but not without wounds that get broken wide open when they decide to stand up and joke about it. Should you try your hand at comedy? If you aren’t willing to be truthful about who you are and accept that you are an average fucking snowflake that’s unique just like all the other fucking snowflakes out there, then no. You don’t have the guts.

But I double dog dare you to give it a try.

Laura Does The Comedy Store

noreply@blogger.com (Laura Richter) — Thu, 31 May 2012 19:39:00 +0000

So, I did this last Wednesday -- first stand up ever and I did it at the Comedy Store. It was fun. You should try it.

Did You Know... it was National Margarita day today?

noreply@blogger.com (Laura Richter) — Thu, 23 Feb 2012 07:57:00 +0000

I found out it was National Margarita day today. If I had been alerted, oh say... a couple days ago when I had time to think, I might have enjoyed a frosty cold one after work today. Instead I dragged my ass home through Los Angeles traffic to discover the news. Damn. There should be an emergency alert in place for events like this.

If only Margaritas were delivered by trucks that play music and go slow so as not to kill children and drunks.

Amy Poehler is the best!

noreply@blogger.com (Laura Richter) — Sun, 19 Feb 2012 17:21:00 +0000

Sayin' I Love You

noreply@blogger.com (Laura Richter) — Fri, 17 Feb 2012 03:35:00 +0000

Why, good morning, darlin'! I will always love you!

Mr. Happy Man from Matt Morris Films on Vimeo.

Boardroom = Bored Room

noreply@blogger.com (Laura Richter) — Sat, 11 Feb 2012 20:22:00 +0000

If you want to bore everyone in the room, you can find no better place to set a scene than a boardroom. They're deadly. There are a number of reasons why you've just created a soft-spot in your script.

No one likes meetings. Dave Barry says,“Meetings are an addictive, highly self-indulgent activity that corporations and other large organizations habitually engage in only because they cannot masturbate.” People (your audience members) are likely to have attended a meeting or two that week and if they want to sit around and not masturbate, they can do that at work. People go to the movies for fantasy and escape. Keep your boardroom scene if it can deliver both of those two missions. You need to rethink the setting if you're not enabling some epic wish fulfillment.

Movies are about motion. Things need to be kinetic. A boardroom is a place where people go to sit and talk. Imagine Yoda trying to explain the Force to Luke by calling a meeting and sitting down to discuss it before attempting to levitate fighters out of the swamp. Throw in a Power Point presentation where slides illustrate the dynamics of the Force. How it moves through us and around us. How it's everywhere. Really try to imagine how this would go down... Now think about how it was shown in the film. They were doing stuff while they were debating stuff. Luke is upside down lifting rocks in the air while arguing why he's got to save his friends. Sit and talk = boring. Do and debate = interesting.

There have been plenty of movies that have done the meeting room. Some better than others. Office Space is one long wish fulfillment movie where the entire function of the working world is turned on its head and relies on the audience's intimate understanding of the work world. It fulfills the promise of providing escape and fantasy. Watch Working Girl. They had to get creative. The whole movie is about business, so they were stuck with this as a major motif. But they had fun with it and kept things very interesting. Each version of a meeting seems more outlandish than the last... all without having anyone freak out and run across the top of the table to leap at someone or jump out the window.

If you've got a boardroom scene, it better be set there because that's the worst possible place for your characters to be at that moment. Think about the words that are being spoken by your characters. Can they be said while careening through traffic in a car with no brakes? Or while levitating rocks while standing on their heads? Still sure you have to set it in the boardroom? Why? It better be for more than a sight gag or a joke. There better be earth shattering news delivered to your character that exposes their powerlessness.

If you're sure you need to keep this setting, you have your work cut out for you. It better be surprising, fresh, compelling, and real. Anything less is just a yawn.

The ABCs of Character Names

noreply@blogger.com (Laura Richter) — Sat, 04 Feb 2012 22:03:00 +0000

It might seem like I'm talking about complex naming schemes that require simplification when I mention the ABCs of character names, but I'm actually being very literal here.

If Mike loves Marni but Marni love Mark and Mark and Mike are best friends from their college days at Michigan... Ugh, and there are another 98 pages to slog through? It can quickly feel like this screenplay was brought to you by the letter M and we're trapped in an episode of Sesame Street. God help you if you've got a character named Aunt Mary who shows up at the end of act one with molasses cookies and sage advice.

I can hear it now... Aunt Mary's name starts with an A. Really? You think Aunt Mary's friends, parents and co-workers all call her Aunt Mary? I have actually had writers argue with me about this. Imaging her lover, as he's about to climax, yells out with grunting passion, "Aunt Mary! I love you!" If that picture didn't creep you out just a little, you've got bigger problems than the letter M.

You also want to minimize confusion for the reader who might find it challenging to follow who is doing what to whom and why. Remember, this reader has to write up a summary of your story for his or her boss. If the synopsis looks like a primary school lesson, you're going to get ignored. Part of your job is to make it easy for the reader to be a fan of your work. Alliterative writing pulls the reader out of the story. Is this supposed to be funny? Is this for kids? Is this a clue? Then, when it fails to pay off, it reveals an inattention to detail. That tiny assessment throws you and your script on the heap with the other amateurs.

Do yourself a favor. When you start naming characters write out the alphabet twice on a piece of paper. Above one set write: First name. Above the other write, you guessed it: Last name. As you use each letter, cross it off. If you've got a story about a family, many of them will have the same last name, but the people who live next door or the principal should have different sounding names.

Make it easy for the reader to love you and your work!

Coverage is Forever

noreply@blogger.com (Laura Richter) — Sat, 28 Jan 2012 23:10:00 +0000

How long will a company hold onto the coverage for your script? Forever. Cue the orchestra, get Shirley Bassey, set it to music - Coverage Is Forever. No kidding.

When your manager thinks it's a good idea to change the title of your screenplay and resubmit it to the agency as a clever way to get around that crappy reader who just didn't get you -- Stop. Fire your manager. He or she has not one clue as to how agencies manage the material that's sent to them.

That snot nosed reader who said your action flick put them to sleep will wind up getting your renamed script because they already have a sense of your style. Guess who looks like the asshole when the reader reports back that this script is exactly the same as the last one, save one difference - the new title? You will. Not your manager.

Imagine a scenario where your manager requests a different reader. It happens. Or the original snot nosed kid isn't available (Spring break in Cabo, y'all). Guess what happens now? When the hand over the script to the new reader, they also include copies of previous coverage.

The point I'm trying to make is, it's not good enough to have family, friends or even fellow screenwriters (especially if they're not produced) do a read through of your latest and greatest. You've got to get real insight. This will almost assuredly result in notes that urge you to do a rewrite before going forward. This will mean you have to go back to work before it gets sent off to CAA or WME... ICM should be ok once they work out their issues over there...

Paying someone a couple hundred bucks and taking an extra couple weeks to polish your script will be worth it in the end. Because the weak drafts you turn in now will haunt you for the rest of your days, because...

(cue the orchestra)
...Coverage is Forever!

You Want Craft Services? I Got Your Craft Services Right Here...

noreply@blogger.com (Laura Richter) — Mon, 16 Jan 2012 07:52:00 +0000

My mother likes to say that an Irish army moves on its stomach. What this means is that the troops will work hard if the food is plentiful. With a little luck, it's also good. The same can be said of running a happy film set. In the movie biz this component of keeping the army of technicians and artists happy has a special name -- it's called craft services. This where folks go to get snacks to keep their blood sugar and morale up during the grueling work on some pretty strange locations. The usual fare includes stuff like pretzels, fresh fruit, odd beverages and big-ass buckets of Twizzlers. You know, the kind from Costco. Beef jerky is also bizarrely popular. Don't ask me why.

Recently, I was lucky enough to work on a small shoot with some great people from DGL Entertainment. I've worked on a number of shoots but I have to say, I think this was by far one of the most pleasant crews I've ever had the pleasure to know. Cross your fingers that the project goes through -- mama needs a new pair of shoes!

We were putting something together that didn't require an army per se, but craft services were still part of the deal. The producer, Kevin Roberts, kept things relaxed and even allowed me to interview him on the craft services that were available. Although none of us knows the fate of the show, we had a good time. It's nice to work with professionals who know how to take care of their people (and have a sense of humor.)

Thanks, K-Rob (aka Kevin Roberts), for being such a great sport! You give the term "working for peanuts" a whole new meaning.

Passive vs Active Protagonist

noreply@blogger.com (Laura Richter) — Mon, 16 Jan 2012 07:30:00 +0000

One of the things I come across when I do coverage is the passive protagonist. I think that most of the time, we want so much for our main characters to be likeable that we give all the challenging work and decisions to the supporting characters. Soon, we'll care more about the supporting characters than the central figure. Think Han Solo vs Luke Skywalker. There's more to why we like Han so much -- he shoots first and maybe he asks questions later. Maybe.

Does your protagonist ask a lot of questions? Take Sherlock Holmes. He's a detective who investigates gruesome crime scenes. Yet take a moment to notice something... It's not Sherlock who's asking all the questions. More often than not, it's Watson. Through answering the questions, Sherlock's genius is revealed. When we're talking about Robert Downey, Jr.'s Sherlock, when in doubt - he dons a disguise and chases down the info he seeks. That's an active protagonist.

Go back and look at your script and find the places where your hero is asking questions. What is it you want your audience to know about that question and that answer? Maybe you'll decide the best choice is to go with the interrogation -- we wouldn't have "You can't handle the truth!" scene without questions but I challenge you to count how many questions Kaffee actually asks. It's far fewer than you might imagine. He makes statements and challenges his witnesses. He's not necessarily in control, but he's trying and than makes him an active protagonist.

See for yourself. Count how many questions Kaffee asks Jessup from the point where the Judge tells Jessup to "And the witness will address this Court as Judge or Your Honor. I'm quite certain I've earned it. Take your seat, Colonel." through to "You're goddamned right I did!" [I'm looking for the # of question marks used in Kaffee's dialogue only.]