The CocBlog

Loregy.com

2007-10-08T15:42:00.000-07:00

Suffice to say, after almost two and a half years of no posts this blog is officially on "indefinite hiatus". ;)

For those of you still interested in readin' things written by The Coc, feel free to head over to my new blog at Loregy.com and see what I've been working on these past couple years. No, not the blog... namely, screenwriting and lore heavy games.

See you there!

-C-

For the love of God. Yield doesn't mean stop.

2005-06-15T04:10:00.000-07:00

I'm convinced that from the time we're born we're each given a limited amount of patience of each individual thing we experience throughout our lives.

Nothing gets my blood boiling more than dopes who stop at yield signs.

Does everyone know what yield means? It means the other dude has the right of way.

Does it mean stop? No. That's why we have stop signs. If they wanted you to stop they would have said so with a big red octogon with the word "STOP" on it.

So why does this tick me off? Afterall, how many yield signs are out there? Who cares?

I spent the last two and a half years of my schooling at Chapman Univeristy in Orange, California.

Why is this relevant? Because Orange happens to be home to the Orange Circle. Possibly the only major round-about in all of southern California.

What's a round-about? It's that thing you always see in comedies about Europe where the road becomes a circle and everyone goes round and round.

The concept is actually pretty cool, because instead of a signal or a stop sign, you now have four yield signs, which means you can go zooming through a fourway intersection at any hour of the day or night safely without slowing down. No red light you might hit. No stop sign.

The only problem with the Orange Circle was that every day at rush hour the streets would become clogged with traffic, but this wasn't regular traffic. This was stupid traffic. This was traffic created by the ineptitude of all dopes around me who shouldn't have passed their driver tests. Why was there traffic? Because every moron who came upon the Orange Circle would STOP for the yield signs. A three minute drive could be stretched into a half an hour if you hit the Orange Circle at the wrong time. And all because no one seemed to know what a yield sign was for.

Now, some of you touchy-feely people out there, who like to make excuses for people you don't know are probably thinking, "They weren't used to a round-about."

I'd agree with you if it werent' for the fact that these were locals. (How do I know? You can tell by their license plate frames.)

Up in Los Angeles there aren't many yield signs. But there is one on the Wilshire offramp of the 405 freeway. A few days ago, my wife commented that I always get peeved whenever I get off the freeway here. I hadn't noticed it. But she was right. Before I even reached the offramp I'd start complaining about the idiot in front of me who was bound to stop for the yield sign and stare like a sheep at the oncoming traffic. The memories of countless hours spent sitting in needless traffic at the Orange Cirlce were somewhere in my sub-conscious fuelling me.

So out of all things to lose all patience for, I've lost all patience for people at yield signs.

So please. I beg of you. Yield. Don't stop. Just yield. The cranky doofus in the car behind you will thank you.

Pavlov's Dog, the Candle, and the Lava Lamp

2005-03-22T02:51:00.000-08:00

Hello boys and girls, and now for your pleasure and mine, the Cocmeister (yes, Cocmeister) presents, "A Happy Fun Moment in History."

Rougly a century ago, a most excellent physiologist (yes, I'm doing the Bill & Ted thing) by the name of Ivan Pavlov stumbled upon what came to be known as the "conditioned reflex".

Now, a reflex is obviously something our body does on its own. It's subconscious and, at best, an action we only have limited control of... like blinking, breathing, salivating, or tackling people when they talk in movie theaters.

What Pavlov discovered was, given enough time, he could condition brand new reflexes into an animal's brain... namely, his dogs.

When Pavlov's dogs ate, they would salivate. Duh. What interested Pavlov was how they would also salvite whenever the man who fed them entered the room, regardless of whether he had any food on him not. (Yeah yeah, maybe they wanted to eat the man.)

Deciding to try an experiment, Pavlov began ringing a bell each time before his dogs would be fed. He continued this until one day he removed the food.

Now he had dogs who would salivate on cue whenever he rang a bell.

Keep in mind now, that the dogs had no control over this, hence a "conditioned reflex."

As cool as this trick is though, I still thing it takes a close second place to feeding your dog peanut-butter.

So why am I rambling on about old Russians and nasty pranks to play on your dog? Well, shaddup and keep reading.

I've got all sorts of junk on my desk. The computer, remotes, a clock, speakers, a candle, a lava lamp... etc. (Yes, just like the title of this blog entry. You're very smart. Have some peanut-butter.)

Anyways, while working on one of my more recent projects, I found myself under a heavy deadline. For some reason or another (I still don't know), I began a routine of lighting my candle and turning on my lava lamp before I'd begin work. This routine somehow became an inane ritual. Light the candle. Turn on the lamp. Work.

I finished the project and stopped doing the ritual...

The last script I wrote was the hardest project I've ever worked on. The writing process dragged on for a year and a half as I wrestled with the story to get it to match up with what was in my head. (The average script takes about six months.)

Suffice to say, about a year into I began fighting burn-out. I was tired of the script. I sick of writing and I wanted to at least move on to developing something else.

Then one night, for no apparent reason, I finished three times the amount of work that I usually do. It wasn't until later that I realized I had at somepoint lit the candle and flipped on the lava lamp.

The moral of this story of course is that, like dogs, screenwriters are trainable and will do just about anything if properly conditioned or given food.

Beware of producers bearing bells.

Through hellfire, perfection, and plot-points I have fought...

2005-02-26T05:12:00.000-08:00

On December 31'st 2004 I finally completeled my latest script.

Many told me that once I finished, "It would be so great! You'll want to get out and have fun as cartoon animals skip alongside you... singing." Damn you catoon animals, may I have no peace!?

Actually, it felt more like I had just come home from a very bloody war as all I really wanted to do was shut the blinds, go to sleep, and recover. Well now I'm rested, I'm pumped, and that means it's time to procrastinate and make a post.

So sit back, relax, and give those guys who say "Art is easy" a boot to the head.

The only drawback I can see is if I'm posting here then that must mean I also once again have a whip to my back.

"Hey Billy, do you like whips and cartoon animals? Then you should be screenwriter! It's the life for you...."

I Live....

2004-12-23T04:15:00.000-08:00

Just a report that I have not forgotten you. I'm polishing up the third act of my project now, and should be returning to make some real posts within the next few weeks.

See you soon.

Naughty Cocles!

2004-10-18T01:26:00.000-07:00

It's already been well established that I'm currently in self imposed exile while trying to get this script done. So when I see all the hits I still get everyday as you guys wait for me to climb out from under my rock, it makes me feel like a schmuck when I realize that I've spent time posting on someone else's blog, instead of writing up something here for my more than understanding and undeservedly faithful readers.

SO... To try to make ammends, I'll make it easy for you to take a look a quick look at what the Cocmeister has been doing online when he decided to come out of his cave for a few fleeting moments.

To be short, I was an idiot and got myself involved in two online arguments. (Yes the kind, where even if you win you're still retarded.) But hey, I'm already a wank, so that doesn't make much a difference. Anyways, to get back to the point, while all of you have been waiting here, I've been out yelling at people about assault weapon bans and copyright laws.

So without further adieu, I give you some good Coc-drivel to read until I return to the land of the living with a lean, mean script under my arm.

Pixie's Gun Post and the Comments (Cocments?) that followed.

Graywolf's Copyright Post and the Comments that followed.
(And this Tangental Post in regards to Graywolf's.)

And just a heads up. If you any of you ripe dingo's have a comment that you'd like me to see, please do it here as this will be the only place I'm checking while under my rock.

Auf Wiedersehen!

Cocles Lives!

2004-10-01T07:42:00.000-07:00

Howdy boys and goils. Just coming up for air to let you all know that your ol' Uncle Cocmeister hasn't forgotten you.

I'm currently locked away in rewrite land desperately trying to get this script done so I can finally send it out to generous proofreaders, and as soon as that happens, you can bet your sweet bippies I'll be ready for some good ol' fashioned procrastinatin'.

And since I've always got a back log of about 20 topics for this place, so you can be rest assured I'll be stickin' around here for a long time to come.

In the meantime you can find some genuine, Cocmeister approved blogs ...

here: Pixie's Mise En Place

here: Scotty Two-Shots

and here: The Wolf-Howl

And before any of you ninny's cry that I didn't post your blog, be rest assured that I'm saving it for the next incident when I don't have time to procrastinate.

See you in the funny papers.

The Writers Guild Registration Myth

2004-09-10T11:28:00.000-07:00

This post should be read as if it were written by a man who has momentarily escaped his captors and is taking the precious few moments he has before being captured to tell you something very important.

Listen children and heed my word.

Writer's Guild Registration does not prove authorship.

I'll say that again.

Writer's Guild Registration does not prove authorship!

Why have I broken out of my rewrite cage to tell you this?

Because, dear readers, if I hear one more dingbat tell me that Writer's Guild registration is all one needs, I will most certainly go insane.

Some of you, I'm sure at this point, have no idea what I'm talking about.

The Writers Guild (the union Screenwriters belong to) has a registration service where they'll stamp your work with a date, toss it into their archives, and give you a certificate.

Most people I run into, I'm afraid, believe this is substantial for protecting their work.

They're wrong.

They'll pull out books that state they're right.

Those books are wrong, and were themselves written by dingbats.

The people who wrote those books aren't Lawyers, (and neither am I). But if you want to read a book that is by a Lawyer, then I suggest The Writer Got Screwed (but didn't have to) by Brooke A. Wharton.

And if you want to be as careful as possible, then I suggest actually finding some lawyers and consulting one.

That being said, my primary goal here is dispose of a myth. So enough with the ranting. Let's get to my point.

Writer's Guild Registration only proves completion date. That's it!

So what's it for?

Back in the old days, a great way to rip off a writer was to claim he or she hadn't finished their work on time. Since the writer's deadline was usually part of their contract, the producer could thus claim the writer was in violation of this contract and not pay them as much.

And so, Writer's Guild Registration began.

Now, when Mr. Slimey Producer says you're in violation of your deadline, you can shove you registration certificate in his face and have your attorney call him.

But remember what I said:

Writer's Guild Registration only proves completion date.

While it may say that the script was registered at a particular time, it does not however say who wrote it. It does not prove authorship.

So, then how does one prove authorship in the USA?

By registering your copyright with the Library of Congress, that's how.

This is where some dingnut screams, "But everything you write automatically has copyright from the moment it's written down!"

Yes. That's true. You're very smart. Shaddup.

Yes, your work has copyright from the moment it's written down, but you can't do anything with that copyright until it has been registered.

So how do you register?

Go to the Library of Congress's website, find the proper form, and do what it says. The last time I checked, screenplays used the PA form, but that could have changed.

Once you're registered, you're protected. Good job.

A lot of new writers will point out that they run into Producers all the time who scream that they won't read anyone's work until it is registered with the Writers Guild.

Personally, I wouldn't work with a producer who said this. At the very worst, it means they're a crook who preys on new writers, because new writers are usually desperate and don't know any better. And at best, these producers simply feel that guild registration is enough "protection" for their own purposes. After all, I'm sure they have a lot more money to spend on lawyers than the newbie writer who's suing them.

So remember, kids, register your copyright with the Library of Congress. Writers Guild registration has its purposes, but proving authorship is not one of them.

A Pox on Ye, Vile Mr. Beep Beep!

2004-08-24T15:17:00.000-07:00

I should be working right now. I should be giving the dominatrix what she wants and typing away at my final polish before I send her out to my band of merry proof readers (so she can torture them for a few days).

But I'm not.

Wanna know why?

Because there's some dang dumptruck outside that's been backing up for twenty minutes making its incessant BEEP.... BEEP.... BEEP.....

Honestly, if you need an alarm to know there's a truck backing up towards you, you deserve to be run over.

Wanna know the punchline? A friend of mine actually knows the guy who invented those alarms and has offered to forward any messages I may have.

I'm going to, and when I get the ding dong's reply I'm going to frame it.

Dear Mr. Cocles,

I'm sorry for that stupid alarm I invented. You're right. It IS keeping the imbeciles alive long enough to breed, and for that I apologize.

Sincerely Yours,

The Doofus who invented that Stupid Alarm for when trucks are backing up.

Those Wacky Oblivious Pedestrians

2004-08-23T01:06:00.000-07:00

Awhile back, I was in an underground parking garage looking for a spot when I came upon one of those groups of dingdongs who like to walk in the middle of the road while remaining completely oblivious to the line of cars they're blocking behind them.

My strategy, then, was to pull up my car within a few inches of their legs, and match their pace until they saw me and realized what a bunch of oblivious dillholes they are.

The best would be those random occurences when their brains would register, "CAR!" without acknowledging how slow I was going.

There's nothing more satisfying than getting to watch a couple of sorry saps scream and dive out of your way as you cruise by while doing only two miles an hour.

Unfortunately, I eventually had to cease my evil ways as I was sure that if I ever so much as bumped one of those bozos with my car they'd probably sue me. And while I may not be afraid of a lawsuit, I am afraid of the look my wife would give me.

Anyways, the point of all this is my wife reminded me that about a year ago I rolled up behind a group of guys only to have one of them look behind him and turn out to be Donald Faison, Zack Braff's costar on Scrubs.

So, this explains why I never received a reply to my starring question.

Zack, "Hey Donald, did you hear? This guy named Cocles says I stared at him once and now he wants to know why."
Donald, "Cocles!? Oh man, you better watch it, that guy tried to run me over once.
Zack, "Really!?"
Donald, "Well, no. But it sounds better when I say it that way."

On a related side note, one of my buddies who was there the night of the starring incident called to inform me that towards the end of my story, when I was watching Zack out of the corner of my eye, my friend finally began actually waving at Zack, who just kept right on staring.

So, now I really am curious.

These Scrubs guys have it out for me.

Introduce Yourself, Doofus!

2004-08-17T05:46:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago I was at an event where a number of the guests were invited to come up and say a few words. Since the host was not likely to know every last one of us, he asked that we please introduce ourselves before we took the stage.

The first guest to stand up, walked to the front with a look as if to say, "I'm a celebrity and you're all lucky to see me in person and hear what I have to say."

Taking the stage, this guest was reminded to introduce himself, and he responded by mumbling his name with a quick chuckle as if we was being forced to state something embarrassingly obvious.

The only problem was, none of us had any clue who this guy was, and by not properly introducing himself all he succeeded in doing was convincing us he was some self-important nobody who wasn't worth listening to. Good job, doofus.

I bring this up, because over the weekend I met my wife's favorite chef, Alton Brown, who does a show on Food Network called Good Eats. The event took place at a shopping mall where several hundred people had all shown up to meet him. My wife and I had to wait in line for two hours to have her cookbook signed, but when we finally reached the front I was thoroughly impressed by Alton who held out his hand and sincerely said, "Hi, I'm Alton."

This guy has hundreds of people in line to meet him, yet he still remains humble enough to not presume I know who he is. It exhibited good etiquette on his part. With three simple words he had already earned my respect, let alone given a good indication as to what kind of guy he is.

Hopefully this post will serve as a reminder to me, as well as all of you, that no matter how famous you become, always properly introduce yourself.

(At the very least it'll give your fans another chance to applaud.)

-C-

The Zach Braff Staring Incident

2004-08-10T22:52:00.000-07:00

The fact is, a lot of the TV and movie actors out there all live in the LA area, and if you live here yourself you're bound to run into them.

I've heard plenty of stories of people going to premieres and "Oh my gosh!" seeing a celebrity. Frankly, I find the random encounters much more interesting.

A couple years ago I went with some buddies to see Adaptation. We arrived early, we took our seats and a moment later another guy sat down next to me. The guy and I casually glanced at each other and for some reason I recognized him. A moment later I realized he was Zach Braff, the star of Scrubs on NBC. At this point it occured to me that we were both still staring at each other. I politely nodded and turned to talk with my friends.

Well, I didn't know it at first, since my back was to him, but Zach kept staring. There I am, chatting away for a few moments, completely oblivious as to why my friends are giving me increasingly strange looks, when one of them finally says, "Eh, Zach Braff's sitting next to you and he won't stop staring."

I quickly turn around only to see Zach quickly look away. I looked forward only to then see Zach staring again in my peripheral. I finally turned my head to say hi, when at that same moment his guest arrived and the previews started.

This wouldn't be worth mentioning if it weren't for the fact that Zach has a movie coming out now, and every time I see an ad for it, I can't help but start wondering again why he was staring.

Did he think he recognized me too? Was he annoyed that I had recognized him? Had I forgotten to take off my cape again?

It's not so much that I mind staring (I apparently do it a lot myself), but for some stupid reason I'm still curious why.

Fortunately, I'm bound to run into him again someday, and I'm definitely going to ask.

Sure, he may have forgotten. Sure he might think I'm a lunatic and send for security.

But then again, he might simply say, "You had something weird on your face."

-C-

Update: I just did a search to see if anyone else had ever written about staring and Zach Braff, only to discover that Zach himself has a blog. So, in my never ending quest to procrastinate, I went ahead and asked him my question. ...Heck, maybe I'll have an answer sooner than I thought.

To be continued....

Land of the Lawns

2004-08-08T01:53:00.000-07:00

Recently I found myself back in Ohio for a few days. And while I may have been to a number of random places in this world, I had never been to Ohio before.

Talk to anyone in California who's from out of state and they'll tell you they miss two things:

The Seasons...

and Yards.

Well... anyone who's grown up in California couldn't care less about "seasons", we'd much rather go to the beach on Christmas Eve than bemoan being unable to watch "colors change".

As far as yards go, however, I've always scratched my head. Yards!? We have yards here. Some big, some small, some short, some tall. So what's the problem?

Now I know....

EVERYTHING in Ohio has a yard! And I don't mean a little patch of grass, I mean a big giant lawn.

The gas stations have lawns, the shopping centers have lawns, even the freeways have big giant lawns running down the middle at times.

It's as if there's some old guy who's been on the Ohio board of trustees for so long that everyone HAS to listen to him. Only problem is, he's beginning to go a little senile.

BoardMember, "Alright, next on the agenda, we have the extention of the 215 freeway going in. Any comments?"
Joe, "It needs a lawn!"
BoardMember, "Eh, Joe it's a freeway."
Joe, "IT NEEDS A LAWN!"
Boardmember, "But Joe, freeway's don't usually have-"
Joe, "LAWN!!!"
Boardmember, "Okay, alright. One lawn for the 215 freeway. Next, we have a gas station going in on the corner of Weston and Third...."

Please note that I'm not complaining. Coming from Southern California, Ohio seemed like a veritable Rain Forest, which made for a very nice change in scenery.

In fact, I liked the green so much that I plan on going back this December to visit it.

...So, on a different note, what's this "change of seasons"?

A Note about "I, Robot"

2004-08-04T01:25:00.000-07:00

Just a warning that the following entry is a bit geeky. But hey, I think it's interesting, perhaps you will too.

...A few weeks ago I saw I, Robot and had a good time, which surprised me since every Isaac Asimov fan I know couldn't stand it.

I hadn't read the novel myself, but instead read a comic book adaptation of it when I was a teenager.

Last week I finally read Asimov's novel and made an interesting discovery.

The plot of the 2004 film I, Robot is not an adaptation of the Isaac Asimov's 1950 novel, but instead an adaptation of the short story I, Robot written in 1939 by Earl & Otto "Eando" Binder. (Asimov, a decade later, would borrow the title for his own work.)

The makers of the film took the plot of Earl & Otto's 1939 short story and threw in Asimov's Three Laws of Robotics along with several characters loosely based on the ones found in Asimov's novel. The film is thus a strange mish-mash of two completely unrelated stories with the exception of their title.

The comic book adaptation I read as a teenager was actually based on the 1939 short story, which explains why I didn't understand what the Asimov fans were so mad about. That 1939 story was also adapted in 1963 as an Outer Limits episode (also called I, Robot).

Interesting how some film plots are developed before making it to the giant screen.

Hollywood Filters & The Screenwriter's Wingman Part II

2004-08-03T07:35:00.000-07:00

You're at a Hollywood Get-Together. Scanning the room, you'll spot three basic types of screenwriter:

Pro's who do it, or have done it, for money.
Wannabe's who work at it and aspire to be paid.
And Posers who haven't written a single word, but "have a lot of really great ideas!"

As we established in Part 1, there are literally hundreds of thousands of scripts floating around Hollywood at any given time, while only maybe a few hundred every year get made. That alone should give you an idea of how many aspiring screenwriters are out there.

Wannabe's/Aspiring Screenwriters as a group would be fine if they'd just stop doing one thing:

Pretending they're pro.

Aspiring Screenwriters have an ironic nack for trying to pretend they're pro and thus being mistaken for posers. What aspiring writers have trouble realizing is that professionals tend to want to help aspiring writers (and you'll learn why in a second). And every agent on the planet wants to be the one to discover that next big star!

In other words, the wannabe's could go a lot further by just being honest.

So why are even the wannabe's treated well? Simple. They're in the minority along with the pro's. Why? Two words:

The Posers.

That's right. Posers. People who claim they're screenwriters because they jotted something down on a napkin once. And they're everywhere. Posers outnumber the Wannabe's and Pro's the way ants outnumber a carcass.

Tell anyone in the United States you're a screenwriter and they'll assume right off that you're a poser. And I hate to admit it, but I can't blame them. Even I do it. For every 100 screenwriters you meet, 95 of them will be posers. It gets to the point where you're actually surprised when you meet a real working wannabe, or "Oh my god!" a pro.

This problem doesn't truly present itself, however, until you become pro. As a wannabe, you feel like a poser so you don't mind when people mistake you for one. But as a pro it just becomes obnoxious when it takes 10 minutes to convince someone what you do for a living.

Personally, I've grown jaded to it... but it still drives my wife and mother crazy.

Person, "What does your son do?"
Mom, "He's a screenwriter."
Person, "Oh, so he wants to write screenplays?"
Mom, "No, he has actually already written a few."
Person, "Oh, so he's trying to sell them?"
Mom, "No, he's already sold a couple."
Person, "Oh, so he and his friends are going to produce it?"
Mom, "No, the producer he sold it to is going to produce it."
Person, "So they're going to do one of those little festival films?"
Mom, "No, it's going to be in theaters."
Person, "You mean like at a museum?"
Mom, "No, I mean at the theater down the street from you."
Person, "You mean like at an arthouse cinema?"
Mom, "No, I mean like at the mall!"

At this point they just stop and stare at my Mother, confused, stupefied as if she had convinced them her son is the Pope and can fly.

My mother on the other hand is ready to tackle them. ...Which is funny if I point out that to picture my parents imagine, "What if Ghengis Khan married Donna Reed?"

Ghengis, "I burned a village today!"
Donna, "I made you a cake!"
Ghengis, "MMM!!!!"

My wife, on the other hand, finds herself inundated with people who don't seem to think her husband works for a living. (As if working must in some way entail working in an office from nine to five.)

Too say I'm jaded, however, is not completely true. It still bugs me when people think I'm a poser... I've just found a solution: That holy of holies, the man with the plan, our Knight in Armani armor.

The Screenwriter's Wingman.

Leaving for a party? Don't go without one. Industry event? Gotta have it. Going to a club? Couldn't hurt.

As a screenwriter, your wingman is the buddy you've dragged along for the sole purpose of hovering within ear-shot, so they can swoop in at a moment's notice to vouch for what you do.

Person, "So Cocles, what do you do?"
Cocles, "I'm a screenwriter."
Person, "Oh, so you want to write screenplays?"
A stranger leans in from a nearby conversation, "He's pro. I got him his Lawyer."
Person, "Oh... OH!!!"

At this point the person's jaw drops and you're suddenly surrounded by a half dozen people who overheard your Wingman.

...Mr. Wingman, you rule.

So as a pro, how do you deal with posers?

Easy.

Kill em' with questions. Put a big smile on your face and become a little too interested in their career.

Cocles, "Oh you're a screenwriter? Awesome! What have you written?"
Poser, "I've got a couple projects in the works."
Cocles, "Features or shorts?"
Poser, "Uhh... Features."
Cocles, "Wow, two at the same time, I find that difficult."
Poser, "Err, uhh... yeah."
Cocles, "Have anything in development?"
Poser, "Huh?"
Cocles, "Have you sold anything."
Poser, "Oh, uhm, yeah. Both of them!"
Cocles, "Wow, they sold before they were even finished?"

The further you go the more their story will fall apart. (And, word to the wise, If you can't support your own premeditated lie, perhaps storytelling isn't your strongpoint.)

So remember kids, don't let the posers get you down.

And to all my Wingmen out there... I like your style.

My Mentor - Lois Auer

2004-07-30T16:10:00.000-07:00

Cracking open any book on screenwriting, you'll find the same old first-person story on how somebody famous managed to break into Hollywood:

"...Well I moved out here from Idaho hoping I could someday make it big. I lived off top-ramen noodles and slept on my friend's couch for six months until one day my agent at CAA finally called to tell me I had a job in the next big summer blockbuster."

Eh, hey buddy, where the hell did that agent from CAA (the biggest agency on the planet) come from? Why do these people always leave out the most important part? That key to how they made it. It's as if they're embarrassed to tell you.

...

Yesterday morning the person who gave me my career passed away in her sleep. And as my own personal eulogy, I would like give her credit for what she has done.

Lois Auer began teaching acting in the 1930's, and continued teaching until the day before she died. It was not unusual for her first student to show up around 7am and for her last student to go home well after 10pm.

Among her more famous students were David Hasselhoff, Shannen Doherty, Barry Williams & Jodie Foster. She used to hate it when people would brag about her resume or how long she had been teaching... but I could get away with it.

I met Lois not as an acting coach but as my late Grandmother's best-friend. They had been friends for over half a century, but it was not until my Grandmother's youngest grandchild was born, yours truly, that Lois had a member of my family who was interested in whatever wisdom she could impart about Hollywood.

A little over a year after graduating from college, I began working in LA and visiting Lois on a regular basis. Although this was under the guise of "Acting Lessons" what she was really doing was telling me everything she could about the entertainment industry and giving me her opinion on what I was doing to move forward in my career.

Sometimes, during the last 20 minutes or so of our two hour meetings, she would teach me acting.

As a writer, it's a good idea to know your audience. And as a screenwriter a good chunk of your audience is going to be actors and actresses. So it would of course be in my best interest to know what would be going on inside an actor's head when they were reading my work.

Soon after I began my "lessons" with Lois, I quit the job I had moved to LA for and began work on my first real feature length screenplay. Throughout the process, Lois would listen to my various rants and ideas, while offering up her own pearls of wisdom.

A few days after finishing the script, I showed up at Lois's to give her a copy. She instead sat me down and announced I was going to read it to her. Three hours later, when I had finished, Lois of course told me it was one of the best scripts she had ever heard. She mentioned she wanted to show it to a lady who had grown up across the street from her and who now had some clout in the industry.

I thanked her and went home to begin the long arduous task of finding an agent to represent my script, or *gasp* even someone who might buy it.

A month later I got a call. It was not an agent... It was not one of the hundreds of people I had sent a query letter to. It was Lois's former neighbor. We met and she optioned my script with a very generous contract. For the past three years now, Lois's former neighbor and I have worked together developing my script and getting it underway. As of now they are in the process of signing on a director and possibly an A-List star.

Optioning that script to Lois's neighbor is what made me legitimate. Thanks to Lois I have a career that will put food on my table, send my children through college, and entertain millions.

In the end, I owe my career to a phone call made by a little, then 93 year old, lady.

Thank you Lois. No matter how big my name becomes, part of my work will always be for you, and to thank you for making it all possible.

Thank you for everything.

Stop whining... Girlie Man!

2004-07-20T02:18:00.000-07:00

I make a conscious effort to not babble on about politics, but since a couple of you requested I comment on this, what the hay!

At a rally a few days ago, Schwarzenegger declared that when it comes to politicians who are delaying his budget, "If they don't have the guts to come up here in front of you and say, 'I don't want to represent you, I want to represent those special interests, the unions, the trial lawyers' ... if they don't have the guts, I call them girlie men."

The supporters of the people he was referring to have since leaped onto their soap box shouting that the governor's remarks were sexist and homophobic.

Oh for crying out loud.

You gotta love it when you can tell someone is actually making a conscious effort to be offended.

It's obvious he was making a joke by referring to the old "Hanz & Franz" SNL skits that used to poke fun at him.

Roger Rabbit said it best, "Without a sense of humor, you're better off dead."

Hollywood Filters & The Screenwriter's Wingman

2004-07-18T05:11:00.000-07:00

The quest of any beginning screenwriter is to prove they are legitmate.

Last time I checked, the Writers Guild registers about 40,000 scripts a year. Hollywood, on the other hand, last time I checked, only produces about two hundred movies a year.

Keep in mind as well that not all scripts are registered, and that along with those 40,000 new scripts there are also all the scripts still available from the previous years.

Doing the math, it's safe to figure that at any point in time literally hundreds of thousands of screenplays are floating around Hollywood looking to be sold.

Numbers like this are often thrown at newcomers to scare them off.

The numbers usually not included are that out of those hundreds of thousands of scripts floating around at least 85% of them are complete trash. We're talking material that is completely inviable for producing into a major motion picture.

That's a lot of garbage.

13% of the material on the other hand could be made viable with a bit of work.

This leaves us with, at most, 2%... two scripts out of a hundred that are really worthy of being made into a movie.

The good news, of course, is that if you honestly have talent and a GOOD script, you're already in a very small, elite group.

This is where the newcomer's quest to prove themself legitmate begins. It is the quest to prove that they are in that top fifteen if not two percent.

Because of the overwhelming amount of trash floating around, agencies, production companies, and anyone else searching for good material, has to set up filters to sift through the hundreds of scripts they receive each week.

The goal of these filters is to let the legitmate and talented writers through, while keeping the talentless wannabes out. Do the filters work? Well, nothing's full-proof, but they try.

Filters can include:
Are you a member of the Writer's Guild?
Do you have an agent?
Has any of your other work been produced?

Answering no to any question like one of these will likely get you a swift kick out the door.

You might also notice that these filters are designed to form catch-22's.

With little exception, agents won't talk to you unless you're produced. But you can't be produced without an agent.

And with little exception, you can't get be produced unless you've been produced before. So how can you be produced that very first time?

The solution? You have to be part of that "little exeption". You have to be that guy or girl who managed to break the rules.

Yeah it's a pain, and it's supposed to be. The whole system was designed to scare off the vast majority of wannabes who would be just as happy, if not better off doing something else. It separates the men from the boys, the talented from the untalented, the hacks from the real-deal.

If you're talented and want it bad enough, you'll make it. Otherwise, figure it's for the better on your trip back home.

To be continued...

Thank you, Mr. Cellphone...

2004-07-15T08:40:00.000-07:00

I've had the same cellphone for four years. The thing's like another limb. I've grown so used to it, I could make a call blind folded while being pushed from a plane in a clown suit.

Two weeks ago, however I discovered my phone was inexplicably warm. I convinced myself it was nothing, and didn't think much of it.

But the seed was there... Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew. My phone was dyeing. It was only a matter of time before it went. And while I could think of several opportune times where it might be cool to have flames burst from my pants I knew I needed a new phone.

Yesterday I made the trip to the phone store, and now here I am: old reliable put to rest in my closet, while this new gadget lies on my desk, staring at me like an optimistic puppy wanting to be loved.

I won't bore you with setting it up, but I will mention this:

I used to misplace my old phone so much that my ringtone became the Can-Can, because it was such great theme music for when I was desperately scrambling around my home trying to find my phone before I missed a call.

These days I keep my phone closer, but I'm also a lot busier. Which is why my phone now plays the Overworld Theme to The Legend of Zelda, a tune embedded in my youth to remind me of just how much I rule.

It's as if the phone were saying, "I'm sorry to interrupt, sir, but you have a phone call. Oh, and just to remind you, you rule."

Thank you, Mr. Cellphone. I see we're going to get along just fine.

The Unifying Theory of Schwarzenegger

2004-07-13T01:05:00.000-07:00

Countless movies have been made since the invention of motion picture film, and there is but one aspect, one theory that binds them all...

The Unifying Theory of Schwarzenegger.

This theory simply states that any film, no matter how bad, would be better with Arnold Schwarzenegger.

Yes, Schwarzenegger has made some bad films.... but just imagine how bad they would be without him.

Imagine "Batman & Robin" without Schwarzenegger.
Even "The Rundown" was made slightly better by Schwarzenegger's cameo.

Still don't believe me? Take any film you don't like and replace one of the characters, any one of the characters, with Schwarzenegger.

Presto. Better movie.

Shaddup!

2004-07-11T14:25:00.000-07:00

I saw a movie a few days ago. And as often happens there was a guy near me who wouldn't stop making noise. It took the people around him moving away, me asking him to be quiet, an Usher speaking with him, and finally me yelling at him to get him to cram it.

Personally I don't like yelling at them, since for all I know they could be some nutcase with a penchant for firearms. (But hey, it was Spiderman 2.)

Anyways, I wasn't aware of this, but apparently I'm the one being rude for telling these people to be quiet.

When did this happen?

Only a couple years ago when you told someone to be quiet they'd pipe down. Now when you say something they act as though you're denying them a basic human right. And you can't blame any one particular generation or group since I've found myself facing everything from self-important senior citizens, to belligerent Russian tourists.

It's not as if being quiet in movie theaters has become an outdated rule that no longer applies. It's a movie. You pay money to watch and listen to it. If you bought your ticket thinking it'd be a great opportunity to chat with your friends then you're an idiot. Shaddup.

Buon Giorno....

2004-07-09T00:25:00.000-07:00

I'm writing this blog for one reason:

Never underestimate a woman's scorn, or a writer's will to procrastinate.

As I type this, there is a screenplay patiently waiting beside me like a dominatrix calmly wielding her horse crop and giving me that sort of smile people give only when they know they're inevitably going to have their way.

I've heard of writers who enjoy writing. Personally I think they're in the same league as minotaurs and leprechauns. (Although, I do work in a dark cavern, myself, and have a habit of wearing green.) -We've all seen the image of the writer, sitting in the sunshine, dishing out page after page as an animated bird flies in and lands on his or her finger. Personally, if an animated bird flew in the window at me, I'd probably scream and embarrass myself.

So yes, I'm a professional screenwriter. You'll notice I have to say professional, since when you only say screenwriter these days, it means you have lots of "really good ideas" and sometimes even jot them partially down on napkins when you know someone's looking.

For those of you wondering... Yes, I am the Cocles from StreamingSoundtracks.com and author of its infamous NewbieFAQ.

For those of you who weren't wondering... well, just pretend you didn't see that last statement.

Will this blog only be about screenwriting?

Wow, I hope not.

Do I have a list of ideas to post about?

If writing one out will help me procrastinate, then you bet I do!

For now though I must flee, as I just heard a whip crack and the daylight hours draw near.

auf Wiedersehen,
-C-

Greetings...

2004-07-08T14:45:00.000-07:00

This is a test of the emergency broadcast network. If this were not a test this blog would have already been incinerated and we would not be having this discussion in the first place.