I remember in college, auditions were happening for As You Like It. I remember speaking with the director beforehand and asking if he might look at me specifically for the role of Orlando. It was a long shot – I was a physically-awkward introvert without a well-developed voice, and far from the best-looking guy in the department – and yet I thought there was a chance there was a romantic in me. He took my request seriously, saw my audition, and cast me – As Adam, the 80-year-old manservant.
It’s a funny history I have, that the more I pursue “straight” roles, the more eagerly directors encourage me towards the strange, the cartoonish, the character-y roles. I left callbacks for Dracula thinking that the best I’d done was to maybe be the third best Jonathan Harker in the room; then got cast as Renfield. Mid-2014 I submitted an audition video as “Doormat Boyfriend” for a zombie horror film, and off of that, got asked to re-audition in-person as “Infected Cannibal Paramedic”. Which, I must admit, I would have enjoyed much, much more.
A couple of weeks ago, I submitted for an independent feature film called Aventura, and was asked to record an audition video for the role of “Slick, Successful Hollywood Filmmaker”. I felt good about the video I submitted – I’ve been picking up common sense about that process all year. In response, I was asked to record and submit a new video, for the role of “Hippie Sheep Farmer”.
It’s a tremendous compliment, really, and yet it is strange to channel your efforts into believably seeming like one thing, only to have your audience decide you could be something miles away from that. I suppose it’s the character actor’s lot; and if that means I never have to get six-pack abs, I’ll accept it.
And as a result of all of that, I can proudly report I’ve been CAST as “Hippie Sheep Farmer” in Aventura. I’ll be filming in a couple of weeks – I am currently involved in beard conversations with the wardrobe department.
This is going to come off as braggy, but there’s a purpose of encouragement in it. This is the third feature I’ve got a role in during the last nine months, and I don’t have a Union card, an agent, a reel, or L.A.-style headshots. Which is not to say those aren’t really good things you should really want to have, but don’t let the lack of them psych you out of putting yourself out there.
I haven’t known any of the filmmakers in advance, either – these are all completely cold readings with strangers. Which is a great measure of pride. Now, these are super-indie gigs, meaning I’m going to end up with gas money and meals; but I’m learning that a few gigs like these go a VERY long way in assembling the toolbox I described above. An agent, for example, is much more likely to sign an actor who has a proven track record of going into the room and winning the part.
In the next month or two I should see the finished cuts of the two features I shot last year; after which I should get the footage and finally create my on on-camera reel. Here’s hoping that means more opportunities in 2015; and some paydays.
I often check the website for Titan: Dawn, the video game I recorded voices for, to see if they’ve released a demo yet. I also check the websites, Facebook, and IMDB pages for the two features I shot this year – Cloudy with a Chance of Sunshine and Reclaiming Friendship Park – to see if there are any announcements or new images/footage.
And then there’s my own website, which attempts to tie it all together in one place and verify that yes, one person is doing all these different things.
Basically, I’m littered all over the web; little footprints of interesting activities; little chunks of entertainment. They don’t feel very connected, which certainly makes sense, given that they’re spread across so many different media and divided between writing and acting, to boot.
One of my ongoing struggles with the nature of what I do is my essential ambivalence about ever becoming famous. Basically, I see the downsides a lot more than I see the upsides. But if, as I have seen written in many places, this is the era of the personal brand, where there are no more artists, just “creative entrepreneurs”, then all the gravity pulls in the direction of growing my public profile specifically as a business strategy. If I am the only common element to all these endeavors, then I am the only one positioned to unify them; but only if my name means enough that people might follow it from Earbud to Goodreads, for example.
I’m about to try an experiment with that – my new Earbud episode is a dramatic reading of a short story from Stages of Sleep. I hoped the release dates would coincide, but the book has been delayed and delayed because of issues with the cover art, so know it’s going to lag behind by a couple of months. Still, it’s a conscious effort to say – hey, do you like this? Maybe you’ll like this OTHER thing I do over here. Not so coincidentally, it uses the free Earbud episodes as a promotional on-ramp to the book, which will cost money. I am my own recommendation algorithm. That’s kind of a barfy sentence to type, I have to admit.
Yesterday we closed a production of the musical version of Little Women in Laguna Hills. It was my first musical in 16 years, and you can chalk the end of my hiatus up to the fact that director Aurora Long is one of those people I just can’t say no to. I played Professor Bhaer – and my nervousness wasn’t exclusively about singing in public. A karaoke bar + a cocktail = Nick singing in public just about every time. There are different standards for doing musicals though, not just hitting notes or imitating a pop star, but using the vocal instrument as part of giving an emotional performance that tells a dramatic story. The audience can’t just go “oh, how pretty and accurate those notes were!”, they have to say “Oh my God, he’s in love!” My focus recently in the acting workshop I’ve been attending has been to make my work more personal, more invisible, more natural-seeming. To suddenly be applying all these tools to a big, bright, charming musical is a strange act of contortion.
Nonetheless, the feedback was lovely and the show was very well attended. Now I wouldn’t bet against my popping up in a musical again, although where and when is up in the air.
I’m also back on the iWaves with a new Earbud Theater episode, This Monstrous Life, a festive and strange exploration of the holiday season from the perspective of the horrible creatures that despise it:
Art by Tuccicursive
I play Cthulhu, Jr., a would-be world-conquering nightmare being from another dimension who is plagued by Daddy issues. It’s definitely the oddest and, I have to admit, one of the funniest pieces of acting I’ve ever had the privilege to do. This was the biggest production in Earbud’s history, with the largest cast and crew of any of our plays, and the end credits have a celebratory theme that rings especially strongly with me. 2014 was a breakthrough year for Earbud, and it saw me go from a contributing writer to part of the producing brain trust, just in time for this to happen:
I’m immensely proud to have been a part of our three eligible shows for 2013-2014; and we’re going to be back even stronger next year. (Although – SHHHHH! – I actually think the best Anthology Audio Drama podcast out there is Jonathan Mitchell’s The Truth. Check it out, because it is RIVETING.)
This just about closes out my year in acting for 2014 – I’ve recorded a role for another Earbud piece that will drop in late January. It’s been another wild year that saw any number of firsts – not just my first musical post-college, but my first two roles in feature films, both of which should be making the festival rounds in 2015. Then there’s my first paying V.O. promo/announcer gig. Really hoping there’s more to come after that.
I hope I never lose that thrilling jab of stage fright that comes from doing any show. This year involved any number of challenges that were extra scary. My biggest hope is that they open doors to opportunities for me to frighten myself even more in 2015.
One of the unspoken commandments of Earbud Theater is that we should try to do something with every episode that we’ve never done before. I’m cutting together a new piece now, called Bubbles, and while it’s going to be far more brief and quiet than my past work for them, more of a morsel than a meal, I think it has the potential to be a very rich and memorable morsel. The reasons why I’ll wait to explain – for now, we’ve penciled in mid-December for release.
We’ve passed a year now since I first sauntered into the Earbud lair to record Habitat. It took many months to bring that one to life, during which Earbud seemed dormant to the outside world; but ever since it’s been a sustained explosion of work and growth.
Between my episode, called Bubbles and another Casey Wolfe script (This Monstrous Life) that we’ve already recorded which should debut before Christmas (I perform in that one again), we will have produced seven pieces in 2014 – the most productive year in the history of Earbud. I think we’ve raised the bar in quality terms, as well; and with the way the group is growing, I think this is only going to continue on both fronts. We’ll probably save the specifics for an official blog/announcement from Earbud, but 2015 is looking like an even bigger thrill than 2014.
The audience growth has been remarkable, as well. Listening statistics show that our iTunes debut made us bigger than we had ever been almost immediately; and we’re starting to see little footprints of independent fan activity out there on Twitter and Tumblr. Someone even did a Pinterest thing involving us; and I’m not ashamed to admit I have no idea how the flock Pinterest works, but hooray!
The Castle of Horror podcast recorded a very friendly interview with Casey, in which Habitat gets warmly name-checked. And Escape! (The End of Humanity Song) was broadcast on a British Internet radio programme called Tales From Beyond a Darkened Sky, which features vintage and modern audio dramas, usually in the horror vein.
Finally, the Audio Verse Awards moved from their nominee/contenders phase to their official finalists, and we have eight nominations in six categories (Follow that link and VOTE!) There are a couple of things to be incredibly proud of, there, including our overall nomination as Best Anthology/Variety Production of the Year, and the Best Self-Contained Long-Form Production of the Year nomination for Escape!, competing as an original work against revival productions of classics like Sorry, Wrong Number and War of the Worlds. Maybe the greatest honor is that, of the five finalist for Best Actress in a Self-Contained Production, three of them are Earbud players. I do love writing good roles for actresses, and this is a hell of an acknowledgement that we’re doing something right in that regard.
Earbud has offered a crazily-specific nexus for a lot of my different skills and loves, and I’ve developed adjacent skills as needed along the way. It’s also leading to introductions to a pile of groovy people, and possibly even some paying work (fingers crossed on that.) We recently created a database of all the voice talent that has worked for us along the way, and I was startled to discover that I now have roles in five Earbud pieces (Habitat, Bea Little, The Sounds Below, This Monstrous Life, and a January piece of mine that’s partially-recorded.) This ties me with the fantastic Matthew Henerson (also returning in Casey’s December piece) for most Earbud performing credits. This is really more of a crazy accident, since I only played in Sounds Below because the actor I cast couldn’t make the recording date, and I recorded my role for January just to test out a recording site without needing to haul in another actor. I came to Earbud primarily as a writing outlet, but the fact that it’s seriously fattening my V.O. reel is a very welcome fringe.
I am truly astonished when I look back on what’s happened just in the five months since Habitat debuted. Not least among the astonishments is the fact that I’m already cutting my fourth Earbud piece in this small a window of time – honestly it will be a relief when some of the other writers we’re engaging get their scripts into the studio so it isn’t always this tag team of Casey and myself. Also astonishing is the idea that there’s still a lot of opportunity to make this thing even that much bigger and cooler. At our last recording session, there were probably triple the people in the room of any previous date; looking around and seeing something like that is an unbeatable feeling. It’s very close to that feeling of writing – that where once there was nothing, something is now there.
A couple of years ago, the WWE signed a famous Mexican luchador who wrestled under the name Mistico. It was a high-profile recruitment, and part of the process of WWE’s developmental system becoming a more public and acknowledged aspect of the product. NXT – the show devoted to wrestlers who are being groomed for the main roster (or who fell off the main roster but still have enough potential not to have been fired), is actually one of the best shows WWE produces, because most of the hour is devoted to in-ring action, and the storylines and comedy moments are kept to a minimum.
Mistico was re-packaged as a luchador in a different mask who went by Sin Cara – part of Vince McMahon’s honestly savvy addiction to “owning” the persona he puts his spotlight on for merchandising purposes. Sin Cara got a splashy debut and a major roster push, only to run smack into a suspension for violating the Substance Abuse Policy, and rumors that he was having trouble adapting to the American style. His character, though, had sufficient momentum that, rather than simply write him out of the show, the WWE acted in the grand lucha tradition by just putting his mask on a different wrestler; another luchador in their developmental system. Those who noticed that, from week to week, Sin Cara might be inexplicably taller, fatter, and have tattoos which appeared or disappeared, were savvy enough students of the game to know that their job was to ignore the discrepancy.
However, perhaps to juice the Spanish-speaking audience, the WWE actually kept both Sin Caras briefly, having the seeming original (actually the fake) turn heel, only to be confronted by the actual original, calling out the impostor who had replaced him and challenging him. Since both characters wore mouth-covering masks, they had to put this whole storyline over in pantomime, which definitely gave it a passion play element.
At last, the “good” Sin Cara (“Sin Cara Azul”, in the original blue mask), and the revealed evil doppelganger “Sin Cara Negro”, faced off in a “Loser Gets Unmasked” match. Sin Cara Negro lost, unmasked, and continued wrestling as an uncomfortably-generic barrio gangbanger character called Hunico.
However, the “real” Sin Cara couldn’t seem to stay out of backstage trouble, and eventually WWE cashed out their investment and sent “Mistico” back to Mexico. However, they didn’t end their investment in Sin Cara – the evil replacement stepped back into the blue mask, was, without any in-story acknowledgement, essentially absorbed into the “good” version of the character, and Hunico simply vanished into the netherspace of abandoned gimmicks. Sin Cara carried on, providing an object lesson that in the chimerical world of wrestler and persona, sometimes persona is stronger than any single wrestler.
This is not a trick WWE has pulled off many times. Masks are nearly always required (See Express, Orient;) but that doesn’t mean they haven’t repeatedly given it the college try. Sometimes the impostors are acknowledged, such as the storyline which led to the main event match now dubbed by fans “Undertaker vs. Underfaker”. Other times the very attempts to bluff these switcharoos past the audience become too-clear illustrations of the limits of McMahon’s power, as when two main event talents, Kevin Nash and Scott Hall, decamped for competitor WCW and McMahon attempted to just recast their characters, Diesel and Razor Ramon, respectively, with other wrestlers who were, to be polite, unconvincing duplicates.
Real Razor Ramon
Fake Diesel fared slightly better, he was pulled from the impostor play and went on to a Hall of Fame-worthy career as Kane.
All of this history is, I think, subdermally resonant in the rise of one of the hottest acts in WWE right now, Damien Mizdow.
Damien Sandow re-debuted in WWE (after a brief run as “Idol Stevens”) a couple of years ago, working a very old-school gimmick of an intellectually-superior heel, but doing it with fierce commitment and relish. He would walk down the aisle to the Hallelujah Chorus, and mastered little details like holding the microphone from underneath as if it were a brandy snifter. Apparently he placed a respect-your-elders call to retired wrestler “The Genius” Lanny Poffo to let him know he was going to be reviving some of his old tricks.
Sandow was a big hit and seemed to be marching towards a high place on the card. He won the coveted Money in the Bank briefcase – the last time there were two such briefcases in circulation before the two World Titles in WWE were unified. This seemed to promise at least a brief visit to the main event.
However, his briefcase and, seemingly, his main event momentum, ended up being sacrificed to other concerns, namely working John Cena back into the main event following an injury, and management’s seeming ongoing lack of faith in Daniel Bryan to carry the show as top champion. Sandow lost valiantly and impressively, but lose he did, and seemed to tumble down the card after, losing briefer and briefer matches to lesser and lesser talents.
And yet, he still seemed to have believers, and his microphone skills, and residual affection from fans. On a night when Hugh Jackman was guest-hosting the flagship show Monday Night RAW to promote his new X-Men movie, Sandow won an on-line poll at WWE’s website titled “Who Should Hugh Jackman punch on RAW?” This was real, and a reference to Jackman’s previous guest-hosting stint, when he punched primo heel Dolph Ziggler and gave him a legit hairline jaw fracture. That Sandow won the poll was, in its own sadistic way, a sign of affection from the audience.
The confrontation involved Sandow coming to the ring dressed in a cheap costume, pretending to be X-Men villain Magneto, and then trying to use his “powers of magnetism” on Hugh Jackman. It’s one of those bits whose stupidity is only matched by the way Sandow’s commitment to it dares you to look beyond said stupidity.
Sandow later wrestled Dolph Ziggler in the Magneto costume, which was a sign that management noticed how Sandow had managed to pop the audience.
He started appearing, and wrestling, in other costumes as historical figures, local sports heroes from whatever town the show was in that night, fictional characters, even WWE boss Vince McMahon. He wrestled as Davy Crockett in Tennessee, as Abe Lincoln in Illinois. When there was a lumberjack match – a gimmick match in which wrestlers from the locker room surround the ring on the floor and beat up any wrestler ejected from the ring, Sandow was the only one – perhaps in gimmick history – to dress as an actual lumberjack.
And so what at first seemed like a cruel prank being played repeatedly on a once-rising talent became something more weirdly compelling. He seemed trapped in some larger compulsion – he HAD to dress up. No one had ever pushed the notion of a wrestling character set adrift from their gimmick into such existential territory before; he was a dedicated, very technically-skilled performer acting as an empty frame to be filled by whatever cheap trick the night called for.
And in one of those uncanny moments of serendipity that wrestling storytelling is able to accommodate, it turned into something amazing. One night, wrestler The Miz – whose recent gimmick as a vain Hollywood bigshot-in-his-own-eyes has fit almost uncomfortably well, suffered a concussion in a match. And by that Monday’s RAW, he had been announced for a match but not yet cleared to compete. So instead, he came out and announced that tonight, instead of wrestling himself, he would allow the job to be taken by his Hollywood “stunt double” – Damien Mizdow.
I was in attendance at that RAW, my first as an adult, and I count myself lucky even if the rest of the show was lackluster. Damien Sandow came out to The Miz’s entrance music, wearing a replica of his outfit, mimicking all his signature poses and gestures. In the match, he used The Miz’s moves – effectively. Again, “Mizdow”‘s skill and commitment to a stupid bit made it uncommonly fun to watch.
Soon “Mizdow” was accompanying Miz to ringside at all his matches. And then, the friendly-doppelganger relationship evolved, with “Mizdow” mirroring all of the Miz’s moves from the floor. When Miz threw a punch, Mizdow punched air. When Miz got thrown, Mizdow threw himself to the ground to the laughter of the crowd. When Miz was being interviewed, Mizdow stood behind his shoulder, silently mouthing the words nearly in unison.
WWE rarely does comedy well on-purpose (see Bunny Suit – man currently wrestling in) but this didn’t feel like something planned. It was just a crazy accident that a creative performer ran with; and Mizdow soon had momentum of his own. Again, his seemingly helpless in-character compulsion to act as perpetual shadow and second fiddle to a more prominent character ironically pushed him to the forefront. The duo began wrestling as a tag team, and the crowd immediately started chants of “We Want Mizdow”, essentially turning one half of a heel tag team face by audience fiat.
This was the major narrative fulcrum of the tag team championship match at this Sunday’s pay-per-view Survivor Series, which featured multiple teased tags to Mizdow, until finally he got in at the very end and scored the winning pin instead of Miz; foreshadowing what will surely be a future breakup that cements Mizdow’s face status and sets off a fun midcard rivalry. It’s Sandow/Mizdow’s first championship reign in WWE, and while it’s not the World Heavyweight Championship his fans might have hoped for, it’s a sign of the uncanny way some talents can claw their way back from seemingly any indignity (see Bryan, Daniel – therapy skits featuring.)
The following night on RAW, Miz came out wielding both tag team championship belts. Mizdow, perfectly, carried two belts of his own – merchandise replicas. Again, he’s great with the details, and right now, in a WWE where multiple main eventers are rehabbing from injury, the World Champion Brock Lesnar is too expensive to have on TV for the next couple of months, and no one can figure out what era label or tone or giveaway will lure people to subscribe to the damn network already, it’s good to know that, at least for the moment, there’s a marvelous little bit of can’t-miss bizarro being perpetuated every week by one man whose strange star-making quality is simply that he’s trying to be the best stunt double he can be.
Yesterday, a very high-quality camera was filming a close-up of my chest hair. Movie-making is weird.
The movie I shot this summer, Reclaiming Friendship Park, is in post-production. And as they were editing it together, they realized the transition into the scene where you first meet my character was really awkward. There is a grammar and rhythm to shot selection in film that, whether you realize it or not, becomes sort of second nature; and if you subvert that by omission rather than design, you really can trip up your viewers in a way that they won’t be able to articulate.
The scene starts when I arrive home to my apartment, and the main character surprises me and introduces himself, trying to make friends. Right now, the first shot is my point-of-view pulling into the driveway, seeing him. Then it cuts to my surprised reaction as I panic and try to get away from him.
That reaction is the first time my face is shown in the movie; so it’s just a little bit bumpy because the audience takes a second to think “who is that?” and then their focus is out of the scene and it takes energy to get them back. The solution, they decided, was to get a couple of shots of my character driving home, so the audience could “meet” me, as it were, before my encounter with the main character disrupts my world.
So, they asked me if I would come back to San Pedro for about an hour or so to get a few shots to build into a “driving” sequence. It was just me, the director, the DP, and a borrowed pickup truck. Of course, it was a stick-shift, which I have almost no experience driving; so we spent a lot of time lurching and stalling along side streets in order to get a few seconds of smooth motion. One aspect of Meisner technique in acting is to focus on an action so that the conscious mind doesn’t get in the way of natural humanity in performance. I don’t think “trying to remember my character while also trying not to destroy a kind stranger’s truck” was what Meisner imagined. The unused footage is going to be hilarious.
They sent me a still from the scene a week in advance, so I could track down the wardrobe I used and get my hair re-cut. The barber looked at the picture and said “You look weird like that.” I told her it was part of the character, but I think it still made her professionally uncomfortable to make me look odd on purpose.
My character has some funny ideas about masculinity, which motivated the chest hair shot.
The DP had the previous cut of the scene on his iPhone – because we live in the future – so I got to see myself in a feature film for the first time. And actually, hard as it is to step outside myself, and hard as it is to discern character comedy on an iPhone, I think it played really well. That’s exciting. I asked them if they could send me whatever they’ve got of Dale ASAP. I’m on the verge of finally having an on-camera acting reel; and for anyone looking to cast an oddball, I’m going to have good credentials.
I’m back on the novel this week. With my partner/patron’s permission, I took two weeks off from the schedule to zoom out and focus on blocking out the ending so it didn’t become too awkwardly-sprawling. Given how much of the story was discovered on the fly, the fact that the building blocks of a potentially-satisfying ending exist at all are kind of a marvel to me, but organizing the final shots so they all fire in the most effective order is work I didn’t want to skip for the sake of a daily quota.
Anyway, we’re back on the case now – just passed 72,000 words at this sitting and the first draft will probably land around 84,000. 3-4 weeks should get us there, and so the finish line is in sight on one of the biggest and certainly the most challenging project of my writing life.
Right now it would feel good to finish anything. The last thing I actually completed a first draft of was The Sounds Below back in July, almost four months ago. I’m used to more of those little boosts that come from finishing something. I’ve worked on many things in that time, and started quite a few new things, but I’m getting damned ancy. As I mentioned, a thing which I thought was a short story is now at least a novelette and may actually be a full-ass book; so that’s not getting done this year. I knocked out a lot of a one-act play last week as I was crashing those Equity auditions, it seemed an appropriate choice. I think 3-4 days’ focused work could actually bring that one to fruition.
I’m in-process on the next Earbud piece, and have actually recorded part of it without even having finished the script, so I’m definitely on the hook for that one; and I’m exploring some (ahem) less reputable ways to monetize my abilities, which you may or may not ever actually learn about, Jimmy.
It’ll be a hell of thing when this book’s done.
One way to really freeze me in my tracks is to ask me how long my book is. What will happen is, I’ll answer honestly – Seeing by Moonlight is about 88,000 words long, give or take. And then, whomever is doing the asking will follow with: “How many pages is that?” And then, I will make a face like this:
Because it’s a digital book with no fixed page count. You could honestly read a 250-page book with that word count, or a 400-page book. My partner sent me a prospective paperback layout for it that passed 500 pages.
I understand the breakdown in the conversational schematic, honestly. I learned my craft at the student newspaper, where, once I knew what I was writing about, the very next question had to be “how long?” You can cheat pages – font size, line spacing, chapter endings, so on and so forth. Page count is an illusion. Words, though, words are a fixed unit of measure. That appeals to me, and seems like a more and more sensible system as digital publishing grows – alas the world does not adopt it. So the people asking me, who are usually not aware that page count is an illusion, are just trying to move it to their frame of reference.
At that point I try really awkwardly to say that a lot of mass-market thrillers will land in the vicinity of 100,000 words, that genre pulp can be shorter, while doorstop authors can easily deliver 2-300,000 words in a single tome; but by then I’m really just going blah-blah-blah and taking the conversation into a ditch.
The truth is, you have a lot of liberty with length and formatting in books; even moreso now that you can publish just by filling out a form on Amazon and e-mailing a document. There are smutty quickies that are all of 11 pages long selling for 99-cents, and the market will bear that price.
We’re in the home stretch of A Sickness in Time. That first draft is going to be about 84-85,000 words, I think. When I publish Stages of Sleep, that’s going to be about 58,000 words’ worth of short-to-longish stories, ranging from about 800 words to over 12,000. I have written micro-stories, flash fiction, short stories, novelettes, and co-authored these legit-lengthed “novels”; and those words must come across as distinctions without differences to you, especially given what I just argued about the freedom of digital publishing.
I admit, though, that for my own work, I don’t think I want go down the road of publishing things that are shorter than books. First – it costs money to do it how I do it, with professional editing and artwork, and I save on that investment by waiting until I have a book’s worth of material, even if it’s collected stories. And second, I want, for the moment, to have each “thing” that comes out feel really substantial. I know there are non-smutty digital authors who release 99-cent “story packs” of two or three stories; and maybe later I’ll do that, but I’m on my own timetable right now and it just doesn’t feel like the move, given nobody knows who the hell I am.
There’s a piece I started on earlier this year that I’ve dusted off in recent days. It’s a comedic sci-fi story, and when I first pinged my internal radar for a length estimate I came back with about 6,000 words. That’s hefty for a short story, and would limit the number of magazines I could submit it to, but I didn’t want to rush. Besides, my first impression was that I really liked the main character and tone; and if the thing clicked I thought I might be able to publish a loosely-connected series of stories for the same character.
As I’m scratching my way into it though, I’m enjoying this scenario far more than my initial guess. At this point, the projected length has easily doubled. 12,000 is a novelette, not something I could publish on its own under my strategy right now, but here’s the thing – I am starting to see it as possible that this could go well beyond that. Suddenly I was asking the question is this a book? Now that I’ve written one of those and have damn near written another, I must admit it’s a less-frightening question to ask.
Still, I couldn’t force this up to 80K words; or even 60K. My gut tells me that at that point it won’t be funny anymore. These things can be very gut-guided. So, I did what I often do at this point – which I wholly admit makes me probably super-weird even among authors: I looked for length precedent.
If you’re dealing with comedy sci-fi, my Bible is The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. There aren’t many books that influenced me more. So I found the book on the web in .txt format, pasted it into Word, and let the Word Count feature do its thing.
47,000 words, give or take. I remember reading it at a single sitting once. Very brisk, for a book, but obviously more than acceptable as a length for a book. Given the digital age, I could probably even go a bit shorter.
That’s comforting. Clearly there are questions beyond the number, and quantity is never going to equal quality if I’m standing next to Douglas Adams. But really, it’s comforting. I know, mathematically, the gap from 12,000 words to 47,000 words is large; and it will be a hell of a lot of work to type those extra words. But in terms of imagining the story, it’s really only a step as long as this: think of it as a book instead. Everything flows from that framing.
Maybe it will turn out it’s not a book. That would be okay; I’ll make it as good as I know how and then figure out how it will get published. I only write this because I don’t think authors always like to admit that inspiration and process are not all about getting handsy with the Muse through her diaphanous night-clothes and all that. These things are important.
It feels like I do more self-promotion than ever, which I’m sort of ambivalent about. I have come around to its necessity in the era of the “personal brand”; and it has actually had positive benefits to my career; although my long-term hope is still that I can build a viable career in this trade while keeping the spotlight more focused on the work than on myself. I guess that’s a weird distinction to make, and probably doesn’t sound natural coming from an actor, but it is honestly how I feel. I only want to be out there to the extent it helps the work; and if it’s not about the work, I’d really rather be left alone.
Maybe that’s why there has been less blogging lately, I already personally feel like I’m talking about myself too much. Add to this that I’m in the closing phases of the new novel, along with a number of other projects, and there’s also just been a lot less time.
Nonetheless, there are new things to share:
That’s the typically fantastic promotional artwork from Kevin Necessary for my newest Earbud Theater podplay, The Sounds Below. You can stream/download it through the link or head over to iTunes. It launched Oct. 28th, just in time for Halloween, and the response has been, I think, the strongest of any of my Earbud pieces. I feel like I’m still in the extended sigh of relief from finishing it; the soundscape for it was by far the most complicated and time-consuming of them all, and as has been our practice I was doing post-production all by myself. That’s going to change going forward – one of the thrilling things going on right now is that our work is starting to attract people who want to help out, including some people who actually know what they’re doing when it comes to audio engineering. This means we’ll be able to get out work that is of much higher-quality, but also faster. My next piece is going to be a little change of pace called Bubbles, which should drop in mid-December.
Three Earbud pieces from this year – Habitat, Bea Little, and ESCAPE! (The End of Humanity Song), are nominated for multiple Audio Verse Awards. The Awards are now in their second year, and with some of the most popular audio drama podcasts on Earth like The Truth and Welcome to Night Vale in contention, it’s likely to draw far more attention. Earbud won a couple last year, and we’re hoping to as well this year. Anyone can vote here (hint, hint); this round will reduce the nominees to finalists in every category, and in the second half of November another vote will determine the winners.
I did a pair of radio interviews this week, to talk about both Seeing by Moonlight and the Virgin Galactic disaster; first for the show Late Night Parents, and then again for Allen Media Radio, which is an actually an outlet of the P.R. firm my co-author hired. So you’re literally listening to my publicist interview me, which makes it very friendly, with expertly-frequent plugs.
Because of the research I did into the history of rocketry and the space program for Moonlight, I do still follow stories like Virgin Galactic with interest, and I guess in the one-hand-washes-the-other mechanics of media booking, it’s easier to talk to me about a book after we’ve spent some time on the current headlines. That may be feeding my recent ambivalence, because it’s difficult to consider that a terrible accident which cost someone their life gets processed into an opportunity to advertise my little thriller book. Still, my co-author has asked if I would be the public face of our partnership, and it’s something I’m willing to do if it helps him recoup his investment in this book.
Lastly, one of the films I shot this year, Reclaiming Friendship Park, launched its first rough trailer. You can view it on the film’s Facebook page. The movie is still very early in post-production, so a lot of mixing and color correcting still needs to be done (and the music is, obviously, not ours), but I think it looks pretty polished for this stage, especially considering how low the budget was. I’m only in the trailer for the blink of an eye, but since my character is largely comic relief, and the trailer is focused on setting up the story, it makes sense.
I heard from the director and producer of the other film I shot, Cloudy With a Chance of Sunshine. Sounds like they’re up to their necks in post as well, but that there will probably be a cut to view around January.
Hopefully I will be able to write a little more later about my short story collection Stages of Sleep, which is nearly in its final form – just waiting on cover art. The way everything is lining up, I’m likely to have two books out in 2015 – and at least two feature films in which I’m acting. Talk about work coming to fruition. That’s something I’m not ambivalent about at all.
In general, I focus on original work; although the biggest payday I’ve ever had as a writer was technically for an adaptation. When I sold Queen Lara I wrote on the title page that it was “freely adapted” from Shakespeare’s King Lear, and the reason I chose that phrasing is because I remembered that it was the same wording applied to the writing credits for the 1995 movie version of The Scarlet Letter which starred Demi Moore and Robert “Yes, I’m wearing a dead deer on my head, why do you ask?” Duvall. It dispensed with a lot of Nathaniel Hawthorne’s portrait of a hyopcritical community and filled in the gaps with a lot of battle scenes and Gary Oldman dong. If that’s what “freely adapted” means in Hollywood parlance, it seemed like the most appropriate description for what I had done to Shakespeare.
I do, nevertheless, see the value in creative work eventually being owned, essentially, by the human race, so that it can be taken into the cultural body to be transformed and re-used. Even work that’s not directly adapted serves as inspiration to the imagination – I have a long-in-the-works sci-fi script that is basically a weird story baby that was born in my brain between the Isaac Asimov books I read as a child and the Louis L’Amour books my father read to me.
Adaptation is a vital skill, too, in Hollywood, although a lot of what is being adapated these days is fiercely-guarded intellectual property owned by media giants. And even if it isn’t, market muscle has a way of cordoning off things that aren’t technically-exclusive everywhere. Want to see what I mean? Try making a movie about Cinderella right now while Disney is spending some $150 Million making a movie from it. Sure it’s LEGAL for you to do that and all…but you might find yourself being mysteriously unlucky. You know…UNLUCKY? In the old days they said the beast must be fed. Now they say: the brand must be enhanced.
Which is a long way to saying that I’ve been pursuing an opportunity for a little gig where I could choose something to adapt, provided it met certain parameters with regard to genre and period, and provided it was in the Public Domain. I’m rather excited by the challenge, because finding translation potential in something is, I think, a real skill of its own. Because I’m a strong believer in inherency of medium, a story that makes a great short story is not automatically a great play, or a great movie. And on the other side, great movies have been made from forgettable sources – if you need an example, just look for the clamor out there to mount stage productions of Everybody Comes to Rick’s (the basis for Casablanca). Keep looking. Keep looking.
There’s an Agatha Christie story I’ve been longing to adapt for years; alas, only the earliest works of her career are Public Domain, and the domain line has been frozen for several years by Congressional legislation. But there are many, many other works out there, both amongst the pre-1923 body of, basically, everything, and work published between 1950 and 1963 that did not see its copyright properly renewed before the expiration of its original term.
Project Gutenberg is at the pinnacle of this operation of keeping such work alive and distribute-able by modern technology. And Amazon’s Kindle store is filled with free classics – they take up most of my own Kindle. When I needed to make a narrower search for this particular assignment, though, I found what I sought through the PDF page at SFFaudio. SFFaudio is a website and podcast that focuses on sci-fi, horror, and fantasy in literature, and particularly in audio form. They review audiobooks and audio dramas, and relatively soon they should be reviewing some of my work for Earbud, so I’m looking forward to their response.
Their PDF page includes work that you can find at Gutenberg or on Amazon – there are ample places to read Lovecraft’s works – but their specialty is in scans of the stories as they appeared in pulp magazines.
Now, this isn’t ever going to substitute for holding the real thing in your hands, but something about the artwork and layout does at least tap at that lovely memory button that prepares you for thrills and wonderment. And by focusing on pulp magazines as sources, you might find indexed here some rare title by a famous author that you might otherwise not have stumbled upon. I know I had never read Asimov’s single-page raspberry to the nuclear age “Silly Asses”, and I have read a LOT of Asimov.
It’s a collection I’ve enjoyed exploring, and (Happy Ending!), I believe I’ve found the piece I want to adapt.
Of COURSE I’m not telling you what it is.