Okay, so one little running joke throughout this “making a movie” adventure — at least in my head — has been deciding when, exactly, I can say it. Say, “I made a movie.” Okay we, but the point is, when can it actually be considered “made?” It’s important. Why? Well for one thing, I have a notion to get a tattoo commemorating each finished flicker.*

Originally, I figured it would be upon wrapping the shoot. I mean, it takes a LOT to get to that point, and well, you’ve definitely “shot” it, haven’t you. It’s fair, at this point, to say, “I shot a movie.” But — it’s not really a movie yet, is it… I mean, not at all. It’s certainly well on its way to being one at this point; quite unlikely that all this footage will just be shelved, set aside, forgotten. But there’s nothing to show for it. Not yet, not really, other than photos of how much fun/adventure it was!

So it must be later in the process. Okay, Final Cut! Not the (awesome) software, the event. As in, “We have a final cut!” The film is edited, and that edit is locked. Final. Surely at this point it’s “a movie,” isn’t it? Beginning, middle, end? You could actually sit down and watch it! Could, perhaps…but realistically, almost no one will. Or should! Temp sound, temp VFX, audio levels all over the map, colors still flat, etc., etc., etc. Sure it’s stitched together, but it’s still not presentable. Gah. Maybe it’s not “really real,” until it’s been screened, received (well or otherwise), bought and distributed. Surely THAT is a Made Movie…?? Come to the premiere! Buy it! Rent it!

Naw. Fuck that. I’m tired of waiting. Okay, how’s this: How about when there’s a bona fide, finished, color-corrected, sweetly mixed, tweaked, polished, awesomely awesome finished version of the film that we’re actually sending out on DVD as a screener? One we’ve shown at an official wrap party? Sounds good to me! Well, in that case, we’re only about one month out from me yelling from the rooftops! Figuratively, at least. And who knows, maybe even getting that tattoo. But…of what? The title? Logo? Hm… I know: Maybe it should be a likeness of Rider’s face… Something tasteful, say, covering my entire chest. Something…Classy. Yeah; I think know he’d like that.

* I don’t have any tattoos yet, but it always seemed to me like something that should mark a special achievement or goal having been reached. This seems to qualify.

It really is like they say, maddening as it might be for writers like me to hear (at least in the abstract, or certainly from folks who don’t write): A solid screenplay is only the beginning. If you’re lucky enough to see your vision through from start to finish (literally: concept >> development >> production >> post), this lesson can hit home on a whole new level (I’m still in the middle of step 4 right now, but feeling reflective).

First, there’s the movie you write: “The Screenplay” — certainly no small task — which becomes the catalyst for all that may or may not follow — others (partners, crew, talent, etc.) will or will not find it engaging and/or worth pursuing, and so on. Next comes converting all that ephemera into actual stuff: characters into actors, slug lines into physical locations, action lines into shot lists… The part most people are picturing when they say, “making a movie.” But it’s all really just an extension of the first phase (writing), fitting under the umbrella of “gathering ingredients.” All that magic, all that stress, all those slings and arrows, and what you end up with — if the stars align in your favor — is a crate full of stuff someone can hopefully stitch into a “movie.”

Then comes the actual Making a Movie part. Cutting together all those moments, that amazing thing actors do (I am ever more in awe of this particular piece of magic), all those beautifully lit and composed shots your cinematographer fought for (thank god!), all those pickups your scriptie and AD reminded you to get, all that hard work by all those fantastic people… Then, if the stars continue to align with you, voilá: A movie! Easy-peasy.

I consider myself primarily a writer, but I love the whole enchilada. The roar of the greasepaint, the smell of the crowd… And going through the entire process of filmmaking so powerfully informs the writing process and (potentially, at least) enriches it, I think all writers should partake, at whatever level they can. There can be such a disconnect between something that “reads well” and something that actually transfers into strong visual entertainment, and there’s nothing like shepherding an idea through to completion to have those lessons stamped into your writing DNA, hopefully to empower you to write better films, not just scripts. Which I intend to keep working on doing  :^)… (yes, that’s a drooling smiley).

There comes a time on the road to artistry when one encounters the Wall Of Suck. That is the wall you hit where your natural ability at something leads you to actually study and practice it, which takes you to the point where you are met with the actual depth and breadth of your incompetence… Suddenly, you suck. Suddenly, it is devastatingly clear that your “natural ability” was just a starting place, a jumping off point on a journey to the place where you might actually get good at something. I call it a wall, because this is where you either give up (turn back) or your workload increases exponentially (i.e., your forward movement becomes a vertical climb). I’ve encountered it a few times in my life; some pursuits presented challenges I could not ignore and proceeded to engage with all my energy, damn the consequences… Others were ultimately revealed as misguided, and I bailed.

I think what pushes people up and over the wall is passion, pure and simple. Either this thing truly lights you up and inspires you, or it  does not. When it comes down to it, it’s just you and the _____ (guitar, blank canvas, whatever), and no one really gives a shit. If you don’t absolutely love doing it, you will not do the work, and you will continue sucking. The road ahead is arduous, lonely and often boring; frustration is constant (the curse of good taste comes strongly into play), and nothing but overriding love for the sheer doing of it will push you through. Plus you have to be stupid enough to actually think you can be great at something, and be willing to perform (show, tell, whatever) in front of others and be humiliated. Yay! Oh, and your work will truly suck — even after you get pretty good at it — and you will know it (and if you don’t, well, that’s a whole other animal not being discussed here).

So ultimately, the Wall Of Suck is your friend; when you hit it, don’t be discouraged…or do be discouraged, and stop wasting time lying to yourself about what it is you really want to do. It’s probably something else. The artists I am most interested in hearing from are the ones that can’t not do what they’re doing (not the ones trying to be famous/rich/loved for it).

I ran across this post on Gizmodo featuring what has to be the most adorable sword swallower (ever, in the history of sword swallowing) trying to swallow a new iPod Shuffle. She couldn’t, but it’s not for lack of trying. Priceless video footage of repeated attempts reveal that her manner and voice match her mug to a tee. She joined the Coney Island Circus straight out of high school. And I’m glad she did.

I drive a ‘66 Mustang. All/mostly stock/factory original, including the dashboard AM radio (the kind with push buttons that feel like they’re actually doing something, pulling cables and whatnot inside), with a tinny dash-top speaker to complete the experience.

And AM radio is freaking strange. Mostly talk, mostly right-wing, and holy shit, these are strange times for the right. I’ve caught certain tidbits in the past from Michael Savage. I found the guy at least entertaining, at best quasi-coherent and invigoratingly un-PC.

What I’m saying is, there’s not a lot to listen to. Then today, stuck in traffic, I stumbled onto him again, and wow. This guy has completely flipped his lid. Glenn Beck with a Brooklyn accent. Blathering about how much better America was in 1959 (“where I’m from!!”).Kind of interesting what’s going on over on the right these days. That’s all.

Or “burpie.” Either way, it’s a killer workout. Allegedly working every muscle group in your body, (sure feels like it) this move is also called “the prison workout,” as inmates allegedly find it a way to stay in ass-saving form while limited to tiny spaces.

One burpee = from a relaxed stand, crouch down, place palms flat on floor, kick feet out to put you in pushup position; do a pushup; snap feet back to where they were; straighten back up to a stand, stretching your arms above your head to finish (or jumping in the air, if you’re all hardcore). Set-wise, the idea is to do X (a reasonably achievable #), wait/stretch 1 minute, then subtract one… and so on (i.e., 10, then 9, then 8, etc.).

It’s not very easy.

Stretch first; hold your abdominals tight on the kick-back (don’t let back “sway”). One tip I use that I haven’t seen elsewhere yet: Using something to elevate the hands slightly on that initial squat/pushup, to take some stress/load off lower back & wrists. I’m using a pair of pushup bars. I’m still all hardcore, tho.

My wife got into knitting some time ago. Seriously into knitting. She also happens to be a razor sharp design journalist who cracks me up around the house. Put it all together, and you have: The Perfect Blog.

This thing here (my “blog”) is a great example of everything a blog should not be: all over the map, idiosyncratic in the not-good way (”inbred” comes to mind)… I like writing things down (thus making them important), and it’s fun, but I am always shocked to see any significant amount of unique visitors show up in the logs… Wrong turns? Searches gone bad? Actually, these days I have been trying to write things that might be helpful to someone, somewhere (hence the usual geek-centricity), since I have been helped by so many who bothered to write down what they figured out/discovered and love the idea of paying it forward.

Sknitter, on the other hand, has everyting a blog should have: A smart, unique and informed voice, writing passionately on a single subject they know and love while curating interesting, related and on-topic links to fun and informative material. Terry loves doing it, it’s brilliant, and now (of course), it’s catching on.

I’m in the process of rewriting a sci-fi/horror thriller, and when a good friend alerted me to the UFO Conference being held this past week, I had to go check it out. Nothing like the real deal when it comes to fleshing out characterizations and connective tissue in a screenplay. An interesting presentation by Dr. Lynne Kitei on the Phoenix Lights phenomenon brought me up to speed on something  everyone apparently already knew about, and Peter Davenport gave what amounted to an excellent primer on ufo in a historical context.

But the very best part was our very first night in, an experiencers discussion group moderated by Barbara Lamb, and while a handful of insufferable blowhards threatened to eat up the allotted time, there were others who made it all worthwhile. This is what I’d come for, and the participants did not disappoint.

One woman spoke very simply of a lifetime of dealing with multiple alien species, with her experiences of the events ranging from blissful transcendence to utter terror. When I asked her about it, she explained that it was mostly not knowing what was going on that was frightening, not any sense of malevolence on the part of her abductors. One man added that his repeated requests for explanations were answered only by a wordless communication from one annoyed extraterrestrial that “it doesn’t benefit us to become your teacher.” Others said that this was the same response they’d gotten. It made sense, really… Imagine if lab monkeys insisted on detailed explanations of every process they were forced to participate in. Then, imagine explaining, say, “antibiotics” or “mascara” to said monkey. Understandable that they aliens mostly just keep mum.

One of the things I’ve become very accustomed to is using a server. Having multiple computers (and using them all) makes this the only way to not lose your mind (or track your work). For my 3D work, it’s one host PC (the littlest, an older Shuttle) with fat drives that hold all project files and renders in progress. All the other 3D workstations feed from and vomit back to this main host. Same thing with writing, using the Apple desktop as host. All the main writing apps I use (TextEdit/WordPad/whatever for  rtf’s, then OpenOffice, Final Draft, Celtx for further devel) are cross-platform. So I can use whatever laptop I want (please). Backups run regularly on each server, Apple’s Time Machine being the most whizbang. Groovy.

But what about when you wanna take your laptop with… As in, out of range of your wifi? Enter DropBox, a bitchin’ — and FREE — little setup that automatically mirrors everything you put in the Special Folder. Mirrors it not only to each computer that has it installed (it too is x-platform), but also to a secure, offsite server. 2GB storage space is free; any extra, you pay for. Something I’m working on that I want to continue offline at a remote location? Stick it in the DropBox folder, go away, work on it. When I get back online (anywhere), it will auto-sync with whatever other computer is online as well (at the very least, the remote  server). Honorable mention definitely goes to Google Docs, now featuring an “offline mode” that mirrors your cloud documents on your hard drive. Very nice!

My, I’m ridiculous. I’ve been using my little ThinkPad X41 for a long while now, full time (for writing — desktops handle the heavy lifting). So today I planned to eBay the MacBook I bought earlier last year. The sexy black MacBook with the rippin’ cpu, 2G of ram, 250G hard drive, etc. Etc.

Well, I choked.

Okay. I don’t like touchpads. It’s a little big. And heavy (4 lbs vs. 2.7). But holy shit, there’s nothing like doing without to make you appreciate the finer things in life. If you’re going to be stuck with a touchpad, THIS is the farking one to be stuck with. Taps that consistently register, two-finger anywhere scrolling… It “just works,” like all things Apple.

And the look of — well, EVERYTHING. Fonts that render smooth (not fuzzy) and track properly. When oh when will anyone else (I’m looking at you, Ubuntu) start to understand that this matters… God, I tried not to care, and for the most part, when I’m lost in writing, it doesn’t. Very much. But having what you’re looking at be beautiful is just… Well, it’s a good thing.

X41:

1. TrackPoint: A writer’s best friend (no removing fingers to navigate).
2. Size/scale/weight. It’s wafer thin and eensy.
3. 4:3 screen ratio. Makes best sense for writing (who needs “cinema” ratio for vertical pages?)
4. Old school charm; it’s old, it’s cheap, it works. Something cool about that.

MacBook:

1. OSX — beautiful, smart and godlike font (and everything) rendering.
2. Screen sharpness/clarity/brightness (despite widescreen ratio making the whole thing Too Big)
3. Keyboard and touchpad light touch, reliability and accuracy.
4. Overall solidness and sleekitude… The T-pad “CLACKS” closed; the M-book simply closes.

So I’m back on the MacBook and damn it’s nice. Oh, I’ll probably “get tired of” this one again at some point (I would imagine even Brad goes through this), but that just seems to be the way it is. I suppose it’s fun switching, configuring, etc. Getting XP up to a place that worked for me was interesting. I think I may try it all over again once “Windows 7″ (?) is ready for prime time. Gah.

Okay, so one of the MANY things Apple got right is the way the mouse cursor automatically disappears whenever you start typing. Makes sense, doesn’ t it. I mean, why the hell would you want the stupid cursor to BLOCK YOUR VIEW of what you’re typing? Which is exactly what I’ve been dealing with, here in XP land. I know the wizards at M$ made this an option in the Mouse control panel, but that “feature” only works (of course) in M$ apps. In other words, if you’re working in Final Draft or OpenOffice (as I do, mostly), then you’re shit outta luck.

Until now. I searched and searched, and finally found Desk Angel, an amazing and yes, FREE little wonder of a utility that throws this life-altering feature in as an afterthought (!), along with a very intuitive, OSX-style screen grab utility and many others. These two are the only features I need and use and I am eternally grateful for William for finally making it true. And free. Thanks!

As a lifelong (and still active) Apple Fan, I find myself in a strange place. Writing now occupies a large portion of  “what I do” on computers, and I am really digging IBM ThinkPads more and more. The reason being, as I have come to realize, is that I am a nipple man.

The downside to this affliction, for an Apple Fanboy like me, is that this means using Windows (or Ubuntu — a problem if you’re relying on apps not native to Linux). Gah. But with some (okay, a LOT) of tinkering and tweaking, I’ve come up with an XP-based laptop I really like. So much so that after a few months, when I experienced the inevitable pang to “go back,” and did, the glorious OSX experience wasn’t enough to keep me there. Minutes later, I was back on my little X41 and loving it. So I now have a sweet, new(ish) black MacBook just sitting there. Egad. I may even sell it.

When my wife and I married, we opted for a courthouse hitch, a trip to Paris, then a backyard celebration with close friends and family. One of the reasons to marry at all, we believed, was the involvement of people we care about in the declaration and promise of marriage. To that end, we came up with a plan (riffing off and expanding on ideas we’d seen elsewhere)…

Each attendee at the party would be assigned a word, something we agreed a great marriage should have — humor, authenticity, etc. The recipient would be someone who somehow symbolized the attribute to us, and would henceforth be a reminder to us to sustain and empower that aspect of our union. I hand-tooled the words onto the little candy tins everyone had at their assigned seats, and… It was a hit. Curiosity about everyone’s “word” led to a series of impromptu speeches by all. The evening was completely amazing and wonderful.

One guest has followed through in a particularly enjoyable way. Our friend James, who snow-boarded and mountain-climbed and things like that, represented “adventure” for us, and to this day we receive snapshots from around the world reminding us to be adventurous. And while neither of us has taken him up on his offer to join him in paragliding {gulp}, it sure is fun to hear about — and, as we did today,  receive pics of him actually doing  (yes, those are his feet).

One of the odd little items my father left behind was a very interesting and beautiful hood ornament. I didn’t know where it came from, but  it was found among his belongings and I wanted it. It’s heavy, and old (much more weathered than the one pictured here). I have long planned to mount it on a proper base… But there was something about this regal little creature just lying on its side that seemed, I don’t know, more appropriate somehow. More a  relic of a bygone age. Just how bygone I never knew.

Until recently. Ava Gardner came onto my radar a few weeks ago. Of course I’d heard the name many times and seen some pictures, but I stumbled across some amazingly timeless images of her in various noir settings, and Holy Shit. Looked like some of these were taken last week. So we rented The Killers and watched it. There she was. Ava the Goddess.

In one of the earlier scenes, Burt Lancaster pops the hood of a big, fancy sedan by lifting up on a lovely ornament. My lovely ornament. The movie was set in ‘34, so I searched 1933 hood ornaments, and there she was. With, it turns out, quite an amazing pedigree. From a 1933 Cadillac Phaeton V16. Fitting that I should learn the details in ‘08, the flying gal’s 75th anniversary. She’s known as “The Goddess,” and is patented. I don’t know how my father came upon it, but now I certainly know why he kept it. And why I shall keep it as well.

I’m hanging out a lot in Windows land these days (only reason: diggin’ writing on the ThinkPad). A few tweaks and what the heck, I can switch between OSX & XP machinery without too much culture shock.

Then I decided it’d be nice to find a free little text editor with FTP capabilities (like the awesome TextWrangler on Mac) that I could use for quick remote web tweaks/fixes/whatever.

ZOMG. WTF. &%#@. Okay, well, there are many. It’s Windows, for fuck’s sake. But almost every single one I found is an unusable POS in some regard… I won’t bother with an itemized diss on those that didn’t pass muster (Jedit, CoffeeCup, Cpad, Crimson Editor, PSPad, SuperEdi), except to say that what stopped me with most was s-l-o-w (or F’d up) FTP functionality. Or sometimes, a hideous, virtually unusable interface.

Then I found Source Edit. Simple, lean, and useful. Like TextWrangler, it has lots of tools for hardcore coders (unlike me), but also includes a nice set of basics for those of us that just want to get in-get out without a lot of rigamarole. So here is my geek PSA for anyone searching: Try it first.

This fun site came to my attention recently, and the reading is good. Says the host, “My name is Tara and I live in a van. Down by the river. And I dance nekkid for money.”

Tara has apparently settled down somewhere recently, but the site offers a wealth of accounts from past adventures. Her writing is warm, down-homey, and crisp. Not to mention drawn from some pretty fascinating material. She also includes plenty of how-to tips. For example, how to stay safe. Or pee. When you live in a van. Down by the river.

For the record, I’m a mostly-OS-agnostic Mac snob who uses PCs a LOT for work, which is 3D animation (Win2K) and writing (Linux or XP on my laptop of choice, an IBM ThinkPad).

It came to me the other day. Here it is:

Windows (and most PC hardware) is designed by engineers.

OS X (and Apple’s hardware) is engineered by designers.

That’s it.

What about Linux? Engineered by engineers, unfortunately. But lately (thank god), they’ve been talking to designers!

I recently re-discovered a marvel of a song, ‘39*, written and sung by Brian May and friends on Queen’s We Are The Champions LP (the one with Bohemian Rhapsody). At first blush, the song sounds like a Queenly retooling of a traditional folk tune, a tale of intrepid sailors setting sail for new lands. But May also happens to be an astrophysicist, and if you listen closely, you’ll hear a heartbreaking sci-fi story involving space travel at near-light speed and the tragic consequences of a phenomenon called “time dilation.”

The first verse sets the scene. In XX39, 20 souls are sent to find a new home for mankind, as their own world’s ability to support them dwindles:

In the year of ‘39 assembled here the volunteers
In the days when lands were few
And the ship sailed out into blue and sunny morn
Sweetest sight ever seen
And the night followed day and the storytellers say
That the score brave souls inside
For many a lonely day sailed across the milky seas
Ne’r looked back, never feared, never cried

“Milky seas” is the first tipoff that this isn’t about sailing in the ordinary sense. The chorus confirms, with:

Don’t you hear my call though you’re many years away
Don’t you hear me callin’ you
Write your letters in the sand
For the day I’ll take your hand
In the land that our grandchildren knew

Many years away suggests a journey beyond miles, and our narrator looks forward to seeing his lover again “in the land that our grandchildren knew,” the future world of their children’s children.

The second and final verse answers any questions that remain, finishing with a devastating reveal:

In the year of ‘39 came a ship in from the blue
The volunteers came home that day
And they bring good news of a world so newly born
Tho their hearts so heavily weigh
For the earth is old and gray, little darlin’ we’ll away
But my love this cannot be
For so many years have gone, though I’m older but a year
Your mother’s eyes, from your eyes, cry to me

The year is again XX39, 100 years hence, and our hero returns with good news — but is saddened to find his world “old and gray.” Furthermore, now returning to “the land that our grandchildren knew,” he finds that as a result of the near-light-speed of his travels, he is only “older but a year,” though “so many years have gone.”

It pains him to see whoever it is welcoming him. Who is it? It seems to be the daughter he left behind, now fully grown, in whose eyes he sees her mother’s… But unless she is 100 years old, I imagine it is his granddaughter, one of the “grandchildren” the chorus repeatedly references. So the lover he left behind is long gone, leaving only his memory of her (as her “letters in the sand” have long since washed away). After this final revelation, the song ascends into a final chorus, ending with a tragic lament to his long-lost love, and finally, anyone who will listen:

…all your letters in the sand cannot heal me like your hand
For my life still ahead, pity me.

* why “39″? Well, someone, somewhere, counted. Apparently, if you tally every recording by Queen, on every album, this is the 39th. Try not to freak out. Click here for the chord chart — sing along!

Today’s laptops remind me of those “bass players” you see with 5, 6 and 7-string basses… Give me a fucking break. If you’re secretly harboring a guitar fetish, learn to play guitar and STFU.

Today, “Netbooks” are all the rage. I’d actually call them “laptops,” since that’s what they seem to be — laptops that know their place. Small, thin, light, powerful enough, wifi… All you need, really, in a laptop.  So when the Asus eee pc came out, I indulged. Nutshell: Fun to look at, maybe play with, but useless for touch typing in any serious way.

Last week I bought a ThinkPad X41. It’s awesome (I happen to love trackpoint navigation, and IBM’s idea of how a keyboard should feel). It’s very thin, very light, with an old-school 1024×768, 12″ LCD… Which I like, ’cause I think the whole “cinema screen” craze is misguided as hell. I don’t use my laptop to watch movies; I use it to write. On vertical, letter-sized pages. WTF. Anyway, netbook schmetbook; it’s a smart laptop that acts like one.

Downside: Can’t run OSX (unless you’re seriously committed)… But I’ve found that with RocketDock, “Cleartype” (is that really the best you could do, M$??) and a nice, minimalist theme installed (and taskbar hidden), I have a superb “netbook” that is also a killer writing machine. Might go for the OSX crack one of these days, we’ll see. In the meantime, I have a wafer-thin happy lappy that weighs less than 3 pounds, has xlnt built-in wifi and is solid as a rock (1.5Ghz CPU/1.5GB RAM/40GBHD).

Total cost? $250. That’s right. I scored extra discount points with the one I bought, as it had wonky keys, so the owner knew he had to go down… $200 out the door, found a new keyboard on eBay for $40+shipping. It even has a fingerprint reader (!?)… So there!

Surprise. Turns out people drinking more expensive wine don’t actually enjoy it more than the cheap crap unless you tell them the secret.

Oh, how many things in life are just like that.