Writer

A Bike For All Ages

/ markmkane / Leave a comment

In the town of Panville, there lived a young boy named Skylar.  He was no ordinary boy…he was a PAPERBOY!

You’re thinking, “What’s so great about that?!”  Well, it’s not the fact that he was a paperboy that was so amazing, but HOW he delivered the newspapers.

The whole neighborhood would watch and wait for Skylar to ride by on his “Commodore” bike.

You could tell the bike was old. Rust spots here and there, chipped paint, dings and dents were the things that gave Commodore character.  And when Skylar rode it, they moved as one.  It was pure magic.

Skylar could do things on his bike that others only dreamed of.  He was able to jump over tall fences, spin in mid-air and move around obstacles with ease.  When delivering newspapers, people would watch and be amazed at his spectacular riding performance.

The people on his route would always marvel at his feats.

Mrs. Smith enjoyed when Skylar hopped on one wheel over her rose garden and throw the paper right on her doorstep.

Mr. Payne clapped loudly whenever Skylar did a somersault over his fish pond and handed him the paper.

Little Suzie would cheer every time Skylar soared over her like a bird.

There was nothing that Skylar and his Commodore bike couldn’t do.

One day while on his route, he noticed a new family moving into his neighborhood.  As the people unloaded their things, he saw a boy off to the side unpacking a long rectangular box with the name Quicksilver on it.

This caught Skylar’s attention, so he continued to watch the boy.

Out of the box came a shiny silver bike.  The boy hopped on it and took off down the street.  He whizzed by Skylar so fast that he was almost a blur.  Skylar was truly impressed.

A few seconds later, the boy returned and skidded to a stop next to Skylar.

“Hi, I’m Frankie.  What’s yours?” said the new boy.

“Skylar.”

Skylar stared at Frankie’s Quicksilver and then looked at his Commodore bike; he felt embarrassed.

Frankie asked “Hey, wanna race?”

Knowing how fast Frankie could ride, Skylar declined.

“Then how’s about we play follow the leader?” said Frankie.

Skylar thought that was something he could easily do.  “Sure why not” he replied.

“Great, I’ll go first.  Follow me” said Frankie.

The two boys took off with Frankie in the lead.

Up one street, down another.  Around one block, then another and another.  Skylar pedaled hard and fast but was not able to keep up with Frankie’s Quicksilver.

Frankie was so far ahead that Skylar simply gave up.

Skylar looked at his Commodore, “Why can’t you be fast like that!  You’re old, I need a new bike.  Maybe a new one like Quicksilver.”  With that, he rode home.

Bright and early the next morning, Skylar leaped out of bed and made dash for his piggy bank.  Just then, Skylar’s mom popped her head into his room, “What’re you doing?”

“I’m going to buy a new bike.”

“What’s wrong with the one you have now?” asked his mom.

Skylar answered firmly, “It’s not a Quicksilver.”

“Do you have enough saved up?” asked his mom.

“YES!” Skylar exclaimed.

“Okay then, I’ll take you down to the bike shop.”

“Thanks” said Skylar who was busy counting his money.

A few hours later, Skylar came down the street on his brand new Quicksilver.  He saw Frankie and rode up to him.

“Hey, you got a bike just like mine” said Frankie.

“Yeah, isn’t that great!  Now I can go just as fast as you.  Wanna play follow the leader?” Skylar said in eagerness.

“Sure” responded Frankie.

“Okay, but this time…I’ll lead” Skylar extolled.

The two boys took off down the street and up another.  Around one block, then another and another.

Skylar could not believe the speed of Quicksilver.  He was truly excited.  After a fun-filled day of follow the leader, Skylar went home.

He pulled into his garage and parked Quicksilver next to Commodore.  He patted Quicksilver’s seat and said, “Boy, I’m glad I got you.  You’re fast, can’t wait to use you on my route tomorrow.”

As night fell, the two bikes came alive.

Commodore moved closer to Quicksilver.  “Hi I’m Commodore, what’s your name?”

Quicksilver moved away and answered in a fast paced tone.  “Be careful…vroom, vroom, vroom…I don’t want any dirt on my new paint.”

“You sure move fast” Commodore noted.

“You bet…vroom, vroom, vroom.”

“Guess that’s why Skylar likes you.  Can you do any tricks?” inquired Commodore.

“Who needs to do trick when you can move like me…vroom, vroom, vroom” said Quicksilver.

“I guess you’ll be able to help Skylar finish his paper route in no time.  No wonder he wanted you” Commodore said in a sad tone.

“Yep…vroom, vroom, vroom…I was built for speed.  Now if you don’t mind I need my rest so I can have energy to go fast tomorrow.”

“Oh okay.  Good night” and with that a depressed Commodore moved back to his spot.

The next day came and Skylar burst into the garage with a bag full of newspapers.  He carefully got onto Quicksilver, making sure not to scratch the paint.

“All right, I’ll finish my route in no time.  This’ll be great!”

With that, off he went.  VROOM, VROOM, VROOM, SWOOSH.  Wind blowing in his face, hair flapping wildly about.  Skylar liked the feeling of going fast.

The neighborhood knew it was time and waited anxiously for Skylar’s arrival.

SWOOSH! Skylar came charging down the street and readied the papers for his neighbors.  Along the way, he noticed something different but couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

As he approached Mrs. Smith’s house, he tried to leap over her rose garden but Quicksilver would not budge.

CRUNCH!  Quicksilver travelled so fast that it flattened Mrs. Smith’s rose garden and caused Skylar to send her newspaper crashing through her window.

Mrs. Smith was shocked, “OH NO! MY PRECIOUS FLOWERS!”

Skylar was moving so fast that he could not stop to apologize.

He sped onto his next destination: Mr. Payne.

“Vroom, vroom, vroom” was the only sound coming from Quicksilver.

“Something’s wrong” noted Skylar as he drew closer to Mr. Payne’s fish pond.

“Time to do our somersault over the fish pond” thought Skylar, “Don’t mess up.”

No good.  SPLASH! Skylar and Quicksilver went through the fish pond, dowsing Mr. Payne with water and hitting him in the head with the paper in the process.

Mr. Payne rubbed his bruised head and in shock ran towards his pond, “OH NO! MY POOR FISH!”

Skylar was too far away and moving way too fast to say sorry.

Skylar soon thought to himself, “This is not going well.  I’d better stop and walk the rest of my route before I wreck something else.”

He applied the brakes but Quicksilver would not stop.  He tried again and again and again but nothing happened.  It’s as if Quicksilver had a mind of its own.

“Why won’t you stop?!” wondered Skylar.

The only sound coming from Quicksilver was “Vroom, vroom, vroom!”

Skylar and Quicksilver sped down the street and was soon coming upon little Suzie’s house.

Suzie was waving at Skylar in total excitement, “Yea, Skylar’s coming! Yea!”

“Holy cow!” exclaimed a worried Skylar.  He frantically pressed on the brake REAL HARD but nothing happened.

Quicksilver raced towards little Suzie.

“Vroom, vroom, vroom!”

He motioned to Suzie and yelled “GET OUT OF THE WAY!” but she was too busy cheering to hear.  She was in real danger.

As he fast approached little Suzie, Skylar needed to take action.  His eyes scanned the area for an answer to his problem.

“THAT’S IT!” Skylar barely managed to avoid hitting little Suzie by veering into a small stone wall.

“VROOM, VROOM, VROOM!”

As the wall fast approached, Skylar held onto the bike’s handle bars and propped his on the seat.  He readied himself for impact.

“Get ready, five…four…three…two…one…” he leaped off.  KA-BLAM! Quicksilver crashed into the wall as Skylar soared into the air like a bird.

KER-PLASH! He landed square into a neighbor’s swimming pool.

Little Suzie ran and peered over the wall, “WOW, THAT WAS NEAT!  DO IT AGAIN!  DO IT AGAIN!”

“No thanks, once was enough for me” sighed a drenched Skylar.  He hopped over the wall and took in the sight of his once brand new Quicksilver bike.

Pieces of it lay all over.  One tire here, another tire there, handle bar bent, pedals broken off, bike chain lodged in crack of the wall and seat hanging on a nearby shrub.

In the middle of all this mess, lay a scratched up and warped frame.

Skylar shakes his head and gathers up what was once Quicksilver.  He trudges back home.

“What a day, I’m beat.”  Tired from a long day of chaos, Skylar tosses Quicksilver’s parts into the garage next to Commodore and goes into the house.

Commodore beheld this sight “OH NO, WHAT HAPPENED?!”

“I just wanted to go fast but Skylar wanted me to do things that I didn’t want to do.  Like hop over a garden or somersault in the air or even jump high up” said a weary Quicksilver.

“I wasn’t meant to do that” Quicksilver said.

“But those are some of the best things and most exciting things to do” replied Commodore.

“Not for me it isn’t” said Quicksilver, “my biking days are through, I had enough excitement for one day.”

The next day came and Skylar appeared in the garage with his sack of newspapers.  He took a moment to look at what was left of Quicksilver.

“Man, I only had you for a day and now you’re all busted and broken.  I could go fast with you but I don’t know why I couldn’t do anything else.  Where’s the fun in that?!”

Skylar then took a long hard look at Commodore.  “I had you for years and years and was able to do a lot of tricks.  You made my paper route fun.  I knew what I could do with you, guess I should’ve stuck with you all along.  I’ll never make that same mistake again.”

And with that, Skylar and Commodore ventured out of the garage ready to perform their acrobatic routine for the neighbors once again.

How A Filofax Created My “Bucket List”

/ markmkane / Leave a comment

 As I rummaged through the closet looking for something that I can’t even remember, I stumbled upon my Filofax.  Yes, I did say Filofax. 

 For those born in the 21st century, it’s a small looking folder that contains a calendar, day planner, notepad, plastic sleeves, ruler, pen holder, calculator, etc…  Basically it’s a personal organizer that helps you to manage your time, appointments, meetings and tasks.Bucket9

 It’s really a folder that you write down all the things you need or want to do on a given day and reference it when you can’t recall what it is you were supposed to do. 

 Back in the 90’s it was a real popular thing to have but I resisted the urge to have one because I felt it “dumbed” you down and made you prone to not using your brain to remember things. 

 When I saw the movie “Taking Care of Business” with Jim Belushi and Charles Grodin, my views on the Filofax changed.  I somehow became obsessed with owning a Filofax, even though I had no need for one.  I caved in and bought one to my delight; “I HAD A FILOFAX AND THAT’S ALL THAT MATTERED!”

 Since I was in college, I had nothing on my plate except for my classes; I spent money on this thing so I felt like I had to write something in the Filofax to validate me buying the damn thing.Bucket10

 I jotted down my class times even though I already knew the schedule by heart.  I could not think of a single thing to put in it; one fateful day while in class, as the professor was droning on about God knows what, I wondered what I wanted to accomplish in my life.  Now I know that people make bucket lists all the time, but I started to do this when it wasn’t something popularly spoken. 

 One day I had one goal, the next day another and the next day another.  Soon I ended up with 4 and a half pages of things I wanted to accomplish or “Life Goals” as I called it, since I didn’t really know what a bucket list was at the time.

 My list wasn’t extreme like going skydiving, bungee jumping, swimming with sharks or climbing Mount Everest; my goals centered around my career in being an established writer, getting literary representation, sell my screenplays, finding a soulmate, getting married and buying a house just to name a few.

 It wasn’t exciting or glamorous but they were “MY” goals; they were all attainable only if I was committed to seeing it through.  As the years flew by, that Filofax of mine soon became a fixture in an obscure corner of a book shelf and then somehow ended up in storage within my closet. 

 Don’t ask me how or why that had occurred, but it did.  I guess somewhere along in my life things happened that caused me to forget about what I had wanted to accomplish.

 So cut to the present and back to the start of this post, when I stumbled across this decrepit Filofax I immediately opened it and rifled through the pages to where I scribbled my “Life Goals”.

As I looked through the list I made 20 some odd years ago, I grabbed a pen and started to check off what I had accomplished.  The ones that were accomplished put a smile on my face and satisfaction rippled down my spine. Bucket5

As for the ones that I didn’t do, I paused for a moment to wonder why that was.  Clearly it was something that I can still do.  “What’s stopping me?” is all that I could think of.  I felt that it was still a “Life Goal” that I still want to attain.

 As of this writing, I am trying my best to see things through and accomplish what I set out to do when I was a young man in college.  With a little luck, hard work and dogged determination, I know I’ll check off every single one of my “Life Goals” before I take leave of this Earth.  

Diary of an Over-Thinker

/ markmkane / Leave a comment

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You’re thinking too much, you’re thinking TOO MUCH, YOU’RE THINKING TOO MUCH!

 I’ve always wondered if there was a gene that caused over-thinking.  The reason for the curiosity is because I am one of those people and it truly sucks to have this debilitating psyche consume you.

 Being an over-thinker makes you become analytical, obsessed and anxiety prone.  Your every waking moment becomes preoccupied with the problem at hand; it could be health related, work related, a relationship or situation. 

 To those that aren’t like this, I’ll give you an insight as to how I am.

 Step One: “Problem arises”

The first thing I do is determine if it’s something minor or serious. If it’s the latter, it begins to stew in my head until it comes to a boil.

Step Two: “How to solve this” 

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I begin to pour over all the possible solutions that can quickly solve this quandary so that it doesn’t escalate into a full-blown dilemma.  Once I find a suitable answer, I’m calm and copacetic once again.

Step Three: “Scenarios, scenarios, scenarios”

You’d think that once I found a clear explanation to what I’m going through it’ll be over.  Nope, my mind starts to get into gear and different scenarios begin to pop up.  As a writer, my imagination can create very pleasant and very detrimental storylines. A mental slideshow of all the possibilities play out in a never ending loop. 

Step Four: “The worst is yet to come”

Rather than being the self-professed “eternal optimist” I vehemently claim to be, my mindset turns over to the “dark side” and the worst engulfs me.  I can no longer see the light at the end of the tunnel and begin to convince myself that the only outcome will be disastrous.  I begin to lose sleep, my appetite wanes and depression develops.

Step Five: “Panic and anxiety are my new buddies” 

Now that I feel that the unfavorable will likely occur, panic and anxiety encompass my thoughts.  I am no longer in control of my life and have to place my blind trust in the forces that have my life’s remote control.  The world feels like it’s coming to an end and I am truly envious of others around me who are happy and carefree.  To feel like that again would be a luxury to be cherished for all time.

Step Six: “Sunny disposition?!”

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I make an attempt at some normalcy to ease my stress induced fear by going through my everyday normal routine, but somehow I can’t truly be myself.  It’s like my head’s in a fog and my demeanor is a former shell of itself.  I try to put on an Oscar worthy performance for my family, friends and co-workers but it ends up being everything that merits a Razzie award.

Step Seven: “Under a microscope”Think5

Throughout it all, I begin to question if I could’ve done something to prevent this problem from ever coming to fruition.  I scrutinize every miniscule thing that brought me up to that point and sigh in utter defeat for lack of insight.

Step Eight: “All things must come to an end”

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The day finally arrives when my issue is addressed; several of the crisis turned out fine, while the others ended up FUBAR.  Either way, it felt as if the world was lifted off my shoulders and I could breathe normally once again.  I needed a couple of day to adjust back into the “real” world but life was good again.

Sad to say, I go through these steps every single damn time a health/work/relationship catharsis occurs.  I am much stronger and wiser for going through this metamorphic happenstance but I also feel as if I lost at least 10 years of my life enduring this burdensome dilemma. 

It’ll never end, it’s just in my DNA makeup and I just don’t know how to change it.  There’s got to be a way to stop over-thinking.  I just got to find out how.  Now where to start…wait, you’re starting to think too much.

The Pitfalls of Being a Writer

/ markmkane / Leave a comment

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I not the best writer in the world, but I’m certainly not the worst; after 25 years of writing poems, children stories, short stories and screenplays, I believe that I’ve at least developed my craft of writing to the point where I’m able to express my thoughts.

 I always make an attempt to write every day; no excuses whatsoever.  As a writer, I make it a point to write in a succinct manner where my thoughts and words are easily understood by the reader and frames the piece of writing with my unique voice, style, heart and soul. 

 It doesn’t matter if my words are eloquent or simple, as long as the reader connects with what I’ve written then that’s all that matters.  Good writing is something that’s both memorable to the writer and reader alike.  Write2

With all that said, my one downfall of being an aspiring writer is when I have to correspond with a fellow co-worker, friend or family member via e-mail.

Every time I’m trying to send a message to them, my writer’s mindset kicks in and it feels as if I’m trying to compose something that should be considered for the Nobel Prize in Literature.   

 What I’m writing could be a response for a party invitation, updating what’s been going in my life to a friend or family member or telling the co-worker a status of a project.  It should be simple to reply back, right?

 HELL NO!!!  For me it’s complete anxiety to the infinite degree!!!

 I’m brainstorming what I should write, selecting words that must be perfect, constructing sentences so that it’s a bit creative and humorous and making sure that brevity is enforced.

“Why can’t I write it like I speak it?!  Isn’t that good enough?!”  For the rest of the world – YES!  For me…it’s just not sufficient enough…sigh.

 I type something down and then I rewrite it to the point of exhaustion; to top that off, before I hit “SEND”, I have to carefully read it to make sure that I conveyed what needed to be said correctly.

 I take something that’s super simple to do and turn it into a monumental task of outrageous proportions.  It’s totally, freakin’ ridiculous what I go through.  (Don’t get me started on Birthday, Sympathy or Wedding cards…that another beast in itself.) Again, maybe it’s the writer’s mindset or maybe it’s just me being a bit too anal, I kinda like to think it the former.Write4

Anyway…anytime I’m tasked with writing anything I, subconsciously or intentionally, am trying to make sure my words come across to the recipient in a way that makes them realize that a “writer” wrote this. 

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1st Anniversary

/ markmkane / Leave a comment

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I can’t believe that one year ago I started a blog…ME of all people.  At the behest of my manager, Alexia, I needed to create a blog site to promote myself on social media.  She’s such a savy person when it comes to that so who am I to argue.

When I set up my journey on creating my site, I was a complete novice.  No experience whatsoever.  There were times when I felt like I needed to hire someone to do this for me so that I can skip all the clutter and get to the details of just writing.

I am so glad that I opted to do this on my own.  It was rough at first but soon I got the hang of the process it took to set up a site I could call my own.  Yes, you can truly “teach an old dog new tricks.”  I am in no way an expert yet but I’m still in the process of  learning all the intricacies to fixing my blog site to get it to how I want.

Once I got something up, the question was what was I going to write.  I had no clue as to what direction I was going to take.  I perused other sites and soaked in what they had to offer; soon I got to thinking that I should just write about whatever I felt like I needed to convey to anyone who would stumble across my site.

I wrote about anything and everything, my experiences, my family, my children, my pets, being a screenwriter, writing in general, poetry, what it took to be a writer, about life, pet peeves, being an eternal optimist, trying to be positive and so on and so forth.

It didn’t matter what I wrote I just needed to write.  And I made a promise that I would write something each week regardless if it was eloquent or rough around the edges.  I just needed to write.  I made this promise to myself and I intended to keep it.

Well, it’s been a year and I’m proud to say that I’ve written something every week.  I’ve kept my promise and will continue to do so until I decide otherwise.  In the scheme of things, I felt like being a blogger was therapeutic.  I got to sound off about a lot of things and was most satisfied that I got to share it…even if no one read it.  Writing was writing after all and I am trying to better myself in this craft that I love.

I’m happy I started this journey and am truly excited to see where I’ll be next year.  The future is unwritten and I’m looking forward seeing how my site will grow.  I am honored to be one of the millions of bloggers in this world expressing myself through my site.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If you can say it, then you can write it

/ markmkane / Leave a comment

There’s this misconception amongst some people that they’re not good writers; that they can’t write at all.  They feel that in order to be a skilled scribe, their vocabulary must rival that of a person with an I.Q. of 130 or above.

 These people feel that they can’t string together the correct words and phrases to convey their thoughts, ideas, instructions, stories or feelings.  These individuals see writers as a special breed of people that sequester themselves to a room and sit in front of a typewriter or computer for days on end frenziedly pounding on the keys of their devices creating their masterpiece.

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 I, for one, felt that way; I perceived writers as these “gifted beings” that could poignantly craft a sentence, paragraph or story into a work of art.  Their use of words and grammar were flawless; it’s as if everything they inscribed on paper immediately became canon.

 Every time I had to write a paper for school, I’d have anxiety because I was cognizant of the fact that I was NOT one of these “gifted beings” that could put my words into writing and effectively communicate my thoughts.

 These shortcomings, and the fact that I dreamed of being a writer, drove me to improve myself in both words and sentence structures.  I was obligated to become a master of my craft and not do a disservice to writers all over the world.

I enrolled in many writing classes, read many books, wrote many things ranging from short stories, children stories, poems, screenplays, business writing and reports.  I voraciously wrote every day and even composed sentences in my head to sharpen my skills.

In all those years of writing I found one thing to be true…all of our writing, words, feelings, stories and ideas come from within. 

 Storytellers of old used to pass down their history, urban legends or culture orally from one generation to the next.  One day someone had the solution to record them on paper; that paper soon was passed on and improved on by later generations.

 Now if they could communicate effectively to another, they could surely write it down.  The whole point of writing is basically recording down on paper what’s inside of us.  If we could tell another person our idea then we could surely write it exactly as how we expressed it.

 One’s writing doesn’t have to be eloquent with long words and grammatically correct, it just needs to get our point across to the reader.  When we tell our story or idea, whether it be in a sentence, paragraph, page, or novel, as long as we’re able to get across what we need to say then we’ve accomplished what writing is all about. 

 If you have to compose a letter, report or story or dream of becoming a writer just always remember that it doesn’t take much.  Just remind yourself of the fact that “if you can say it, then you can write it.”  Speak out loud and then just write down what you’ve said on paper…that’s it.  You’ve just take the first steps to writing.

 Forget all that hogwash about long words and correct grammar; you’ll become efficient in that over time.  You just need to WRITE!  The whole point of writing is expressing yourself through your OWN choice of words; you’ll eventually develop a composition style that’s uniquely you.

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 We all talk, we do it every day.  It’s something that is inherently in us.  So go forth and write to your heart’s content.  AND remember…you don’t need a high I.Q. or a vast vocabulary to write; as long as you can speak your thoughts then you can surely write it.

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What the future holds

/ markmkane / Leave a comment

As each day passes

and your future draws near,

the answers to all your questions

may still be unclear

The solutions you seek

aren’t really hard to find,

just look within yourself

and your problems will be left behind

The same goes in life

as you grow old each day,

the more wiser you become

in each and every way

You learn to be patient,

you learn to be kind,

you become more trusting 

by using your heart with your mind

When the years go by

and you gracefully grow old,

use your acquired wisdom

and you’ll have a heart of gold.

In the darkness of the night

/ markmkane / Leave a comment

As a writer I often find that I’m my most productive at night.  Call me a night owl but for some strange reason that’s when I do my best thinking…my best work.  Just me and the computer…together as one.  This is how I feel:

“In the darkness of the night…

where the sounds of modern things are at ease,

where bodies are lifeless and in slumber

It is here where time momentarily stops

Problems dissipate,

feelings for loved ones are not thought of

It is here…

In the darkness of the night

where I find my peace,

the freedom to create,

a time of endless possibilities

where no on can see the true me

except for myself

Only here…

In the darkness of the night

where solitude is valued more than wealth,

the chance to stand

on one’s own two feet,

this brief precious moment

Helps to give me strength and insight

It can only be here…

In the darkness of the night.”

The Name’s The Game

/ markmkane / 2 Comments

 

There are a ton of challenges that come with being a screenwriter; the list is long and varied from person to person.

 I’ll wager that for all of us the common denominator is just writing a screenplay; it can be painstakingly difficult and time consuming.  Another most common, albeit monumental feat, is coming up with a high concept, fresh and original story idea.   

 Granted I encounter these every time sit at my computer ready to weave a tale, but for some reason my one arduous and stressful task is creating the names for the characters in my story.  Can you believe that?!  Coming up with a name is what I most dread about the screenwriting process.  Go figure.

I can sit for hours in front of my computer switching out names for the characters in my story as I write.  Having a cool name that embodies the character and all his/her flaws and strengths is a problem that I come up against all the time.  You’d think it would be easy…WRONG!  IT’S FREAKING HARD!!!

For me, it’s like doing higher levels of mathematics like combinatorics, hyperbolic geometry or algebraic topology…sheesh just saying that sends a cringe down my spine.

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Why can’t I come up with names for the people in my story?!  It’s sad that I have this same problem over and over and over again.  You’d think that I’d be good at crafting names by now but alas it’s a work in progress.  And don’t get me started on screenplay “titles”…that’s a-whole-nother can of stress induced worms.  

 There were maybe one or two times, in all my years writing, that I can actually say that I came up with a perfect name for a couple of the characters in my screenplay.  I was truly tempted to try and use them again in other stories but decided against it. 

 I’m just going to accept the fact that it’s another process that I must endure in my never ending journey of becoming an established screenwriter.  Hmmm…maybe in the meantime, I’ll ponder the thought of becoming an expert in creating “great” screenplay names/titles and offer up my services for those in the same predicament as I.  Now the only problem is, “What name should I call my service?” 

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Fade Out…

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That’s the two words most screenwriters love to see and say out loud. Why you may ask? Basically it means that all your hard work toiling in front of the computer and pounding away on that keyboard has finally come to an end. The story that had been pining away inside of you finally came out…every character, every dialogue, every scene, every nuance that was worked out in your mind’s eye is now all within your computer.

You lean back in your chair, prop your feet on the desk, stretch your arms and take pride in your creation. Your “baby” has finally come to life. You think it’s a work of art, a complete perfection, the “best damn story” that was written in all of history.

Your mind drifts off to what might be as a result of completing this “amazing script.” Delusions of grandeur pop into your head, and rightfully so. It’s good to think that. It gives us a sense of self-confidence…realists see this as false hope. But who cares! You created something from nothing and that’s no easy task.

Once everything settles, reality sets in and you soon realize that this is just the beginning. The real work comes into play. You’re going to have to do a ton of rewrites…WHAT?! But you thought it was perfect, how can you improve on a masterpiece?! This is your “baby” we’re talking about.

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Sad to say what you thought was impeccable, now has a bunch of flaws. Parts of the story doesn’t flow well, terrible dialogue, nondescript scenes and useless characters are the defects that stings the very fiber of your core. What you once thought was great, has now been reduced to ashes; remnants a novice’s attempt lay at your feet.

You start to question your credentials as a writer and think how can this possibly be fixed. Doubt creeps in; stress and anxiety soon take over and all your creative juices are all out of whack. You’ve just made the possible something completely insurmountable.

Don’t really know if other writers go through this, but I’ve experienced this numerous times. At the moment I’m about to throw in the towel, an epiphany of why I write hits me like a lightning bolt. I take a deep breath (actually several), grit my teeth and press on.

My love of writing will outweigh any type of insecurities that I have. I look at it as if I’m polishing a diamond in the rough; my story has the potential, I just need to add a few key elements to bring out and display that passion that I had while writing it.

After completing my first rewrite, I’ll take a break and then come back to it to do a second and a third rewrite. For me, anything after three is overkill. Once my script’s done, I lean back in my chair, prop my feet on the desk, let loose a gratifying smile and bask in the satisfaction that I was able to endure the true writer’s journey…FADE OUT.