For years now, I have wanted to write a screenplay. I think ever since I watched the movie Hurlyburly I've wanted to. There's something about dialogue that really gets me. The best movies, to me, are the ones that have sharp dialogue that not only makes it's point, but has you reciting the lines later in life. Now Hurlyburly wasn't a great movie, but the dialogue was so quick and razor sharp at times it was brilliant. I know it was written as a play and while I'm not sure who starred in that production,I do know Sean Penn nailed the main role in the movie.
Recently I've thought more and more about this endeavor. I've been without a computer at home for months now and in many ways I think it's my own safety net to keep me from pursuing this endeavor. I want to write something good, but I'm afraid it will be crap. Much like this blog, there are times when I'm typing away, smirking at my brilliance only to write some piece of shit that I wish I hadn't the following day. Other times I go back and I'm surprised by it.
I've toyed with different plots. A man who has always bought everything in life that he wants. Even people. And how this evolves into an obsession when he can't have something. Of course, I'd be writing this, so it would lean towards a dark conclusion. The story is in my head but it's all of four or five paragraphs. I've also thought of writing a bar scene. Something between Cheers and Barfly. Sordid characters, living somber lives and maybe here and there a shimmering light might come through the blinds of this bar. I fear that I would take from my own experiences and quite possibly offend those I care about or even worse be a sequel to Trees Lounge. There I go, with delusions of grandeur. Back to earth, Mr. Hopper. I've also thought and spoke as recently as yesterday of putting my experiences as a camp counselor into print. A modern day Meatballs. Although the tales would be more crass and at times, some may even think they are bordering on abuse. I've also thought to write of my life, had I stayed in Brooklyn past 1985. To be realistic this wouldn't have ended well.
I don't know what my final choice will be. I know I want to do it. I know a novel isn't my style. I need there to be multiple voices (and not just the ones in my head). I can't fill page after page with descriptive verse. It's not my style. I need someone to say something, I need reactions. I need stimulus. What I need is a vision. I'm waiting for mine to come so I can put it into words. Many words. Funny words. Mean words. Sarcasm and wit. I just need that push. Like Eddie said in Hurlyburly "I'm my own biggest distraction."
Recently I've thought more and more about this endeavor. I've been without a computer at home for months now and in many ways I think it's my own safety net to keep me from pursuing this endeavor. I want to write something good, but I'm afraid it will be crap. Much like this blog, there are times when I'm typing away, smirking at my brilliance only to write some piece of shit that I wish I hadn't the following day. Other times I go back and I'm surprised by it.
I've toyed with different plots. A man who has always bought everything in life that he wants. Even people. And how this evolves into an obsession when he can't have something. Of course, I'd be writing this, so it would lean towards a dark conclusion. The story is in my head but it's all of four or five paragraphs. I've also thought of writing a bar scene. Something between Cheers and Barfly. Sordid characters, living somber lives and maybe here and there a shimmering light might come through the blinds of this bar. I fear that I would take from my own experiences and quite possibly offend those I care about or even worse be a sequel to Trees Lounge. There I go, with delusions of grandeur. Back to earth, Mr. Hopper. I've also thought and spoke as recently as yesterday of putting my experiences as a camp counselor into print. A modern day Meatballs. Although the tales would be more crass and at times, some may even think they are bordering on abuse. I've also thought to write of my life, had I stayed in Brooklyn past 1985. To be realistic this wouldn't have ended well.
I don't know what my final choice will be. I know I want to do it. I know a novel isn't my style. I need there to be multiple voices (and not just the ones in my head). I can't fill page after page with descriptive verse. It's not my style. I need someone to say something, I need reactions. I need stimulus. What I need is a vision. I'm waiting for mine to come so I can put it into words. Many words. Funny words. Mean words. Sarcasm and wit. I just need that push. Like Eddie said in Hurlyburly "I'm my own biggest distraction."
Hop, no matter what you write about, your own life and those closest to you will find their way into the story. There is always some aspect of you and the people around you to influence your plot lines. Do not let that be a hindrance to your creative process. People cannot be offended just because they know you and may have influenced whatever plotline you may follow. Stay away from using names and dates as much as possible and take the facts and stretch it to suit your needs (and avoid any cases of slander).
ReplyDeleteAs for your plot lines, all are good ones to follow, but I think your bar scenario lends itself to be the most chock full of possibilites. The setting also allows overlap of some of your ideas, from the man who has it all to the camp counselor (possible drinking buddies?) I agree also with the need for more dialogue driven movies.
Don't be afraid to tap into the voices in your head as well as your life experiences. There is a story in all of us. I too have stopped and started many stories and need to get the right one out, so I know the internal struggle of the writer. That said, I would be more than happy to bounce any ideas around you may have.
Good luck with the creative journey!