Script Frenzy Month of Chaos!

Posted on March 31, 2010 by MAL

Tomorrow starts the month of torture – the best kind. Late night writing, outlining, tearing my hair out, eye crossing, caffeinated bliss. 30 days. 100 pages. A format I’ve never done before.

I’ve entered an international writing event called Script Frenzy in which the participants have one month to complete 100 pages of a script. It can be anything from a screen play to a play for the theatre.

Michelle over at Mid-Atlantic English emailed me last week asking me if I was interested in signing up with her, and seeing as I’m putting my novel down for now (i.e. it’s finished and a literary agent is currently reading it), I need an excuse to take my mind off the novel and the possibility of it being published and I’m always up for a good, old fashioned challenge.

And, as I’ve never attempted to write an entire screenplay, I thought, why the hell not? I certainly read enough of them when I worked in casting in Los Angeles. Plus, since I’ve just completed the novel, the story is fresh in my mind, and hopefully, I can more easily layout the scenes for the movie.

I already vision the first scene – hungover, makeup caked, pasty mouth, Las Vegas, diamond ring gleaming on floor next to best friend. Sounds appetizing, doesn’t it?

Throughout the month of April, I shall be posting updates on how it’s going – the good, the bad, the terror.

So, allons-y! You with me?

Bingo Photos

Posted on March 30, 2010 by MAL

Here’s a few photos from our legendary night out playing Bingo. Notice the modern carpets, the losing scorecard, and the concentrated look on my face. I couldn’t understand the caller, and he went so damn fast. How do you do it Grandma?

The American Dream from an Englishman’s POV

Posted on March 29, 2010 by MAL

Saturday night, I went out for dinner with the Mather’s and the Mather’s dad. The Mather’s are friends of ours who got married last summer.

After two bottles of wine, we got to talking about the health reform bill, America versus England, immigration, etc. It comes up quite often in conversations over here, but I always glean something different from the conversations, especially when there is an older generation around to put their two cents in…or even their two pence.

It was the father’s interpretation of the “American dream” that I found the most fascinating. To him, the American dream represented an immigrant who came to the United States, and despite the fact that our government doesn’t dish out free health care (well, at least it didn’t), free welfare, disability, etc. – immigrants still fight for a place in our economic and social ladder. The question would be – why? Why does this dream that doesn’t give you anything for free still entice someone to fight, to strain and to yearn to be a part of it? It got us debating the idea that’s behind it, and this fact, and this fact alone still keeps the American dream as the most coveted of them all – opportunity.

It’s the idea that through the stress, turmoil and back-breaking work, one has the ability to come from nothing and work his way up to gain everything. Foreigners still want to become an American citizen, despite not getting free in return. And, although I wholeheartedly believe that the health care reform is the way forward, you can’t help but wonder what type of “new immigrant” this will bring to our country.

In England, the father said between bites of his sausage, immigrants fight to come into the UK so they can become complacent, get free money from the dole, and steal from the National Health System. Now, I’m sure this is a wide, sweeping generalization and doesn’t in any way reflect the range of immigrants coming into England, but you have to wonder why so many English people believe this to be true. Do people want to come here simply to get a free ride? I know this topic brings heated arguments to the table whenever brought up, but it is just something I find fascinating to think about.

In America, we pride ourselves on being a self-sufficient nation. People are so angry with the health care because they are afraid of what this means to that self-sufficiency they work hard to keep. Since living in this country, I have become even more proud of that characteristic most of us hold. I see that we don’t expect anything from anyone else, and when we want things done, we get them done. Service is impeccable, and we’re a well-oiled machine always striving for more. I get frustrated with the placated dullness here. (But overjoyed at the simple, niceties and caring that comes from this.)

Since I’ve lived here, I’ve also become sad about this characteristic of Americans as well. It’s a double-edged sword because as independent as we like to think we are, we are a lonely, depressed and selfish nation. We aren’t forgiving to our workers – we expect them to work full time with two weeks break. We don’t offer much in return, but expect the world. We look down on people who might put their families over their job, mothers who stay at home, or friends who don’t have any aspirations to better themselves financially. Our first question when we meet someone is, “So, what do you do?” Not, “So, how was your day?”

I love it and I hate it about me. It’s who I am though.

There will be repercussions – good and bad – to this health care reform, and let’s hope there will be a future generation who never knew what it was like to have a brother in law declare bankruptcy over a broken jaw, or a family member who had to dish out $3,000 a month because he got cancer, or a mother who you’re worried about falling ill because she isn’t covered.

Yes, the future generation may end up taking it for granted like many in England do simply because they don’t know any different…and we may end up getting some waifs and strays who want to take advantage of our health care…but to me, that’s better than letting our hardworking citizens die.

Will our entire nation begin to harbor different characteristics than the one it was built on because of this bill? Or, is that too much weight to put on one simple delegation?

Bingo

Posted on March 25, 2010 by MAL

“Bingo” because that’s how we celebrated our two year anniversary of the day we met on Tuesday.

“Bingo” because I never once got a chance to actually yell “BINGO.”

“Bingo” because the blue haired ladies beat me to it.

“Bingo” because I really want to play Bingo every night of my life, please, thank you.

“Bingo” because I have my first literary agent requesting to read my full manuscript thanks to an introduction by the dear Erika Lopez. (No blood relation, but relation in so many other ways.)

“Bingo” because Jock cleaned the entire apartment today while I was out! That’s the best bingo ever!

Pretty Young Things

Posted on March 22, 2010 by MAL

To have a successful night out in LA, you hoped to bump into the biggest celebrity you could find. That said, my biggest night must have been two years ago.

An old, dusty caravan reincarnated into a sexy, retro nightclub began the night. Weekly Friday event aptly named P.Y.T. Fridays (Yes, that’s an acronym for Pretty Young Things, not Prioritize Your Time, as some might misinterpret). Friend’s boyfriend DJ’d. He played a mixture of classic 80′s pop and lounge dance music mixed with the best old school rap you could imagine. Newly single and especially feisty, I was snapped by the resident photographer in a very short, bright blue dress/jumpsuit.

My pose?

To be fair, I just sat there, and I didn’t move. I was already sat there when he approached me, leaning back on the armoire, fishtank in the background, cigarette poised in hand across my stomach, doing my best “I don’t give a shit cause I live in Hollywood, but I’ll smile with mouth closed” look – but, at that particular moment, I didn’t care…about living in Hollywood, not because I lived in Hollywood. He got the moment.

I danced a bit – more like, flitted about – keeping my stomach sucked in, sucking down vodka and sodas, constantly tugging at the bottom of my dress, trying to determine if I was at least half as good looking as the rest of the girls there. I was satisfied that I was, so I went to the bathroom and applied more eye liner.

Problem was, I could never pretend to be as cool as they were – the other PYT’s. I may have been a pretty young thing, but I lacked many “cool” characteristics. For example, I lacked that ability to keep a straight face whilst telling a joke. I would try really hard, but the harder I tried to stop myself from laughing at my own jokes, the more I laughed. The moment a joke entered my mind, I was already on the floor, embarrassing those around me and making a situation more awkward than it should have to be.

Straightaway, that single trait of mine put me in the slightly nerdier camp. And, that’s just the tip of the thawing iceberg. I honestly don’t know how I survived in Hollywood for eight years as a SJL (Self – Joke Laugher. Keep up!).

Anyway, back on the dance floor, my friend, Kaitlin and I alternated taking polaroid snapshots of the other. Five vodka and sodas later, we got in the back of Kaitlin’s boyfriend’s white pick up truck, and we drove to Teddy’s at the Roosevelt Hotel on Hollywood Boulevard.

Schmoozer that he was, Kaitlin’s boyfriend got us in.

There was a private party happening, but the girl bouncer was sure they wouldn’t notice three more people. Of course they wouldn’t mind…we were buying two bottles of their champagne at $300 a pop (when I say “we,” I mean, “he”).

Passing the massive, hanging glass chandeliers, the elegant leather booths, and making our way to the tiny dance floor, I noticed a tiny girl being dragged off by a butch, short haired, muscle-bound woman. Oh, look, it’s an Olsen Twin, I thought to myself. Oh boy, she’s had way too much to drink. The Olsen twin fought back against the hard-ass lard-ass, and collapsed in the middle of the floor. Luckily, since no one actually dances in LA and the dance floor was clear, she didn’t hurt anyone else….not that she could with that tiny body.

I loved Teddy’s because it was the one club that felt private, that felt unpretentious despite the big names that frequented it, that played fun music and you could smoke. Smoking was illegal in every other club in LA, but somehow Teddy’s got away with it.

This was a rare night – the dance floor was becoming fuller. I normally kept my head down whilst dancing. It wasn’t just a dance technique, it was self preservation. I needed to avoid eye contact with the soul suckers – these were the people who had desperation oozing from every pore. I hated that LA desperate look – desperate to be validated as a human, desperate to be noticed (and get famous), desperate to get laid, desperate for some food.

I bumped into a long, flowing dress on a stick figure by accident, held my hand up and murmured an “Oh, sorry,” and glanced up to see that I didn’t cause any permanent damage. Hey, that’s Drew Barrymore, I thought, she’s a lot skinnier in real life. I continued dancing and looked around for my friends. Ack, who is that man-woman thinking she can dance? I thought, my eyes pointed towards a tall, brunette. Who invited the drag queen with bad skin? I mused. Upon further inspection, I realized it was Cameron Diaz. Seriously. Not cute.

My friend and I laughed at the amount of celebs in the club. “What a great Hollywood night,” we said through semi-glazed eyes. “Couldn’t get any better than this.”

That’s when one very short man in heels headed for the dance floor. The crowd parted, as you do. After all, this was no normal man, this was royalty. Motherfucking Prince – as in the man who was formerly known as Prince, than became formerly known as the man formerly known as Prince – Yes. He was less than two feet away from me, on the dance floor. And, may I just say that his model girlfriend towered over him, but he still worked it in his heels. Eve, the rapper, took them on for a full-on dance competition.

It was brilliant, and the club was closing. We got kicked out. The celebrities stayed.

Another LA Night

My friend and I still laugh about this night to this day.

And yes, it was amazing. It’s one of those stories I will probably tell for years, and I’ll make it out to be like I was some really cool chick who just happened to bump into stars around town, and the story will become more grandiose than it ever was in the first place. Actually, it was pretty grandiose in the first place. I don’t have to beef it up much. And, there were other nights, and I feel privileged to have been a small, minor part of this celeb scene – because at least I experienced it.

But, the truth is, those nights out were never really about being with my friends. They were more about trying to see how cool we could come across, seeing if we could get in the hot nightclubs, what celebrities we could spot or possibly hang out with, and how much alcohol we could consume without being sick or appearing drunk. It was always about topping our last night out.

Last Saturday night was different, fantastic, and maybe even more fun than any of those LA nights. It was about being with the girls, and no one else – even if many tried to interfere with that along the way.

Stay tuned for what happened last Saturday….