Crazytown

BLIND VICTIMS

Sure, I burned your house down, stole your car and spent $10,000 on your credit card, but I’m the victim here.
By Bob Simpson (Writer)

When I think on the very worst people to inhabit this planet, three come to mind: that blueberry pancakes singer, Ray Lewis (he killed a guy), and a group of people I’ll lump together and call “Blind Victims.”

I’m sure you know the type – people that are only consistent in their ability to do horrible things, then can’t understand why people persecute them.  This rant has bloomed thanks to Doris Kearns Goodwin’s fantastic history book, Team of Rivals.  I touched on one of these characters a few weeks ago, General George McClellan, a man so completely devoid of humility that his statements seem like lines from a farce.  The book also devotes numerous passages to the bumbling ambition of Treasury Secretary, Salmon P. Chase, a man known in modern times for having a delicious first name, especially with lemon and rosemary.

Hello, I'm a fish.

LEADING LIKE KRANKOR

When I look for inspiring leadership, I turn to horrible Japanese sci-fi movies.
By Bob Simpson (Writer)

I am a leader.  Actually, let me clarify.  I am recently a leader.  I’ve been put in charge of a project at work, which I won’t tell you about because I can’t and you won’t care anyway, so, over the last few days, I’ve been looking for that special example of leadership on which I hope to base my performance.

Should I mimic the collaborative genius of Abraham Lincoln, the iron-fisted dominance of General Patton, the “I’m Drunk” decisiveness of George W. Bush?

No, of course not.  I’ll tell you who I hope to emulate.

The Phantom of Krankor.

Just look at that face: commanding, stern, avian-like.  The sturdy beak, the caterpillar mustache, that look of general confusion.  That’s everything I want to be as a leader.

For those of your unfamiliar with Krankor, he’s the villain from the Japanese sci-fi classic, Prince of Space.  Let’s study some of Krankor’s more admirable leadership qualities:

MCCLELLAN WAS AN ASSHOLE

In an arena of Civil War douchebags, George McClellan wears the crown.
By Bob Simpson (Writer)

Another diversion from my Gearhead series this week, folks, as

1. I can’t think of anything funny to write about my progress with Gearhead. 
2. There’s something more important to discuss this week.

Namely, this book I’m reading: Team of Rivals by Doris Kearns Goodwin.  You may have heard of it, as last year’s award-winning film, “Lincoln”, was loosely based on it, and I have to admit, as far as history books go, it’s fascinating.  The work highlights the political career of Abraham “Burt” Lincoln with particular emphasis on his ability to unite divided forces for a greater good. 

It features a cast of historical characters during the most turbulent time in our nation’s history, from the uber-ambitious and conniving Salmon P. Chase (dude really expected to be president after being named Salmon), the bat-shit crazy Mary Todd Lincoln, and my favorite, and the epitome of American douchebaggery, General George B. McClellan.

Some of you may be asking, “Bob, what does the ‘B’ in George B. McClellan stand for?”  Well, I’ll tell you.  It stands for “jackass.”

THE PETRIFIED PERFORMANCE

We take a break from the Gearhead series, because understudying Neverwhere taught this author a valuable lesson: acting is tough.
By Bob Simpson (Writer)

“Greetings, and welcome to Sacred Fools’ production of ‘Neverwhere’…”

So begins the pre-show speech, delivered wryly by Jonathan Kells Phillips, playing the Marquis de Carabas in Sacred Fools Theatre’s production of Neverwhere.  Jonathan is one gear in a well-oiled machine, a production so complete that it nearly boggles the mind.   There’s only one problem: Jonathan Kells Phillips isn’t here tonight. 

His understudy is here, it’s me, and I’m currently behind the stage-left curtain, unable to move.

As the pre-show speech continues, informing the audience what to do in case of a fire (helpful tip: just punch everything that moves until you’re outside), a number of panic-induced thoughts flood into my brain, including the following:

Did I preset everything?

A common concern for most theater actors, but elevated in this case, as I have no idea what I’m doing.  I race through the props I’m responsible for in the show: the statue used to ward off the Beast of London, the pocketwatch stolen from Door’s house, the fire extinguisher I use to bludgeon myself in the head in Scene 4.  A moment of terror overtakes me as I realize I didn’t set the fire extinguisher, which is followed by relief as I realize I made that prop up.

In what order do I enter the first scene?

Do I follow Marz, Carlos, Cassandra, or Senator Strom Thurmond?  And what the hell is Strom Thurmond doing in this show?  He wasn’t in the book.  And isn’t he dead?

GEARHEAD, PART 6

Things are going well.  This feels wrong.
By Bob Simpson (Writer)

Writing Progress: Scenes 7 and 8 drafted.

Concerns:  Seems like everything is coming together nicely, so, naturally, I'm freaking out.

Humor level of play:  Did you see the new Louis C.K. special?  That guy in the third row?  Yeah, as funny as him.

Panic Level:  Rainbows.

Days until reading:  64

I'm great at expecting the worst.  It comes so natural and is often so accurate that it's little more than a reflex at this point.  I look at a work that I'm creating or have created, analyze it, and then think of ways to kill myself (though I usually just end up watching The Mindy Project...shut up).

But what happens when a week of rather productive writing has passed, and when I review the work I did, I'm not completely suicidal?  In fact, I'm feeling pretty good about what I accomplished.  It's coming together rather nicely, thank you. 

Naturally, shiny, new doubts pop into my head like, "Well, it seems readable right now, so it must be completely boring" or "If I think it's ok, then the majority of mankind will probably disagree and burn me in effigy."  Let me just say that last thought isn't necessarily negative - I've always wanted to be burnt in effigy for something.  I was pretty sure it would happen when I stole that Christian Council banner from my high school and defaced it (FYI, I wrote "Christian Council: where independent thinking is highly discouraged"), but I was sorely disappointed.

GEARHEAD, PART 5

Don't be afraid to write a piece of crap.
By Bob Simpson (Writer)

Writing Progress: Scenes 5 and 6 drafted.

Concerns:  Is it possible that the world might end before the reading?  Cause that would be super.

Humor level of play: Scott Lynch pithy dialogue funny, so, not funny.

Panic Level:  Tough to say, probably because of the self-induced concussion.

Days until reading:  71

My friend and fellow writer (though she's actually good), Kim Krizan, once told me the most important mandate for writing a new piece, "Don't be afraid to write a piece of crap."

It's good advice, but often difficult for people like me to follow.  Sure, I acknowledge that I'm writing a piece of crap right now as my current project is in the very early stages of development and, let's face it, there are more things that aren't working than are.  The key, and hardest part of Kim's advice to follow, is the "don't be afraid" portion.  It's easy for a writer to look back through their work and mourn that what was so crystal clear in their mind's eye has morphed into an inbred monster on the page.  It's only natural.  The toughest part is to sit back, accept this and keep moving forward.

GEARHEAD, PART 4

I want to write funny women.  Is that sexist?
By Bob Simpson (Writer)


Writing Progress: Scene 4 drafted (didn't meet my goal, but Scene 4 was a beast so leave me alone)

Concerns:  My female characters aren't funny.

Humor level of play: Funnier than last week, but still not funny overall.

Panic Level:  I feel surprisingly calm, which has induced a new brand of panic.

Days until reading:  78

Several years ago, I participated in a musical comedy that, ideally, should have been a smash hit.  The idea was novel and exciting.  The music was nothing special, but catchy as hell.  Some of the characters were interesting.  Still, there was one major problem with the musical which, along with a number of other flaws, doomed the musical from the start.

Not a single female character was written to be funny.

Oh, they were horny.  Yes, they were all incredibly horny, which this writer obviously believed was the only way to make a woman funny. 

The female actors in this show should be lauded for taking some truly weak source material and turning it into funny performances, but I've always felt that a writer's job was to help the performers be funny, not work against their instincts by boxing them into a "I'm so horny, and ain't it hilarious" character.

So, here I am, several weeks into writing this play, chronicling my pain to you, and I'm sorry to say that I'm stuck with a bunch of female characters that are not funny.  At all.  Not even by accident.  In fact, I would go so far as to say these female characters are not even interesting, which hurts. 

GEARHEAD, PART 3

What's that thing that keeps getting in my way?  Oh yeah...life.
By Bob Simpson (Writer)

Writing Progress: Scenes 2 and 3 drafted (met my goal...hurrah)

Concerns: Why is my hair so gray?

Humor level of play: Remember Andrew Dice Clay?  Like that, except more offensive.

Panic Level: Mild annoyance

Days until reading: 85

During this week's writing schedule, I learned a valuable life lesson that I feel should be passed on to anyone who ever wishes to write something that isn't a complete disaster.  Here's the lesson:

Go into your room, lock the door, nail it shut, get some spackle and seal it, and pray that one day you will be able to leave.

It's becoming very clear to me that the entire world has one purpose in mind: stop me from being productive.  Therefore, I recommend those steps above, or the complete annihilation of everyone on the planet except for me.  Seriously, that would be awesome.  I'd be like Burgess Meredith in that Twilight Zone episode, except I only wear glasses when I want to look smart.

Overall, the play is coming along slowly but...slowly.  I want to say "surely" but let's face it, this is going to come down to the wire, with me weeping in my closet, my laptop on its last few electrons of battery charge, wondering why I didn't do more when I had the chance.  That's right, I'm a defeatist.  It's so much easier to complain that way.

My primary concern with this project, as you can see in the header, is that it won't be funny at all.  Actually, this is becoming less of a concern and more of a scientific fact.  There is some serious distortion going on between what I see in my head (hiliarious idea) and what is put on the page (this).  It's like some cosmic being is interfering in my work, so I've found it really satisfying to blame my frustration entirely on God. 

After all, He's used to it, right?  Oh, by the way, God, thanks a lot for botulism, jackass.

Regardless of who is to blame, it's becoming more apparent that I need to distance myself from society in order to get this done.  Right now, unfortunately, that isn't easy, as in addition to my day job I'm understudying a show, which means I'm watching a bunch of actors more talented than me (not false modesty, they're really good) run through a production that I still don't really understand, much less know my lines.  It's pretty encouraging.

This week, though, things will be different!  Seriously!  Wait, is that a bird?!

Goal for next week: Scenes 4-6 drafted with only 1 panic attack.

BOB SIMPSON is a writer and lives in Los Angeles, where he works for Warner Bros. Entertainment, Inc., though the views and opinions expressed in this and other articles are solely those of the author, and do not represent the views or opinions of Warner Bros.  There, disclaimer done.  Bob is also a geek - gentledgeek.blogspot.com
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GEARHEAD, PART 2

Bob continues his journey to write a play without losing grip on reality.
By Bob Simpson (Writer)

As you may have read last week, I’m going to invite you to share in my experience/living hell as I try to write my first play in 10 years.  Well, folks, one week of hardcore writing is behind me, so let’s take a look at our metrics.

Writing Progress: Character Breakdown, Outline, and Scene 1 first draft complete

Concerns: I am the worst writer ever.  Seriously, Stephanie Meyer is genius compared to me.

Humor level of play: Funny as heart attack, barely.

Panic Level: Mild annoyance

Days until reading: 92

There you have it.  What did I learn last week?  Many, many things friends, but mostly I learned that I am a completely worthless person that doesn’t have a single, cogent idea to contribute to society.  If you asked me a week ago, well, that was different.  Seven days ago I had a stellar idea that would have people rolling in the aisle, urinating themselves uncontrollably and forcing them to admit themselves into psychiatric institutions.  It was an idea that made Mark Twain look like a theater reviewer for the Oakville Happy Camper.

Fast-forward to now and not only has my idea gone from sheer brilliance in my head to complete, unfunny nonsense on the page, but the clock has started ticking.  That number above?  92.  That’s how many days I have left to live, before I throw myself off the highest structure (in North Hollywood, probably a mailbox) out of humiliation.

Am I overreacting?  Yes, of course I am, but also consider this: you don’t know me.

I did learn a valuable lesson this week when translating a golden nugget from your head onto the page, then dealing with the shock when you realize it wasn’t a golden nugget, but a very shiny dog dookie.  That lesson was to just keep going!  If I stopped and mourned/ruminated on every choice and every word placed down on the page, it would be all over.

So, I’m going to keep going, one small step at a time.  Wish me luck.

Goal for next week: Scenes 2 and 3 drafted with minimal hair loss.

BOB SIMPSON is a writer and lives in Los Angeles, where he works for Warner Bros. Entertainment, Inc., though the views and opinions expressed in this and other articles are solely those of the author, and do not represent the views or opinions of Warner Bros.  There, disclaimer done.  Bob is also a geek - gentledgeek.blogspot.com
EMAIL HIM/HER |  FACEBOOK | TWITTER | OTHER POSTS BY THIS AUTHOR

GEARHEAD, PART 1

As I begin to write my first play in 10 years, you, my friend and reader, will join me on this wild journey.
By Bob Simpson (Writer)

Writing is hard.  Just getting that last sentence typed out has really exhausted me.  Anyone who's ever written as a creative outlet has experienced that love/hate relationship with the craft, and as I take on a project that will likely cause me to check into Betty Ford in the next few months, I figured I'd share my experience.

After a few years of focusing solely on novel and blog writing, I've decided to take a trip back to my roots and write a stage play.  Why?  Because I hate money, that's why.

I kid.  Mostly it's because I remember how much fun it was when I wrote my last play ten years ago.  Sure, I was in college and drunk when I wrote it with my best friend, Ehren, but we thought it was hilarious and had a super time.  The audience, not so much, but we just attributed that to them "not getting us."  We were too edgy, too modern, too drunk for the common man to understand our humor.

Still, it was one of my favorite experiences, and with my close association with Play Club West, I have an outlet to write a  play and immediately have a reading, whereupon my friends can ride me out on a rail and my wife leave me for that guy next door with the spool on his balcony.  Why does he have a spool?  I don't know, but I often catch my wife gazing at it.

Anyway, over the next few months, I'm going to take you on a journery through my mind and creative process (hint: it involves a lot of Goldfish crackers) as I craft a brand new play out of nothing.  What's it going to be about?  Not really sure.  What's it going to be called?  Currently, it's called "Gearhead," but that is almost definitely going to change.  Still, in order to create a sense of cohesiveness, that's what I'm going to title these posts.

It should be fun...or disastrous.  Either way, you should enjoy it.

BOB SIMPSON is a writer and lives in Los Angeles, where he works for Warner Bros. Entertainment, Inc., though the views and opinions expressed in this and other articles are solely those of the author, and do not represent the views or opinions of Warner Bros.  There, disclaimer done.  Bob is also a geek - gentledgeek.blogspot.com
EMAIL HIM/HER |  FACEBOOK | TWITTER | OTHER POSTS BY THIS AUTHOR