Last post I wrote about the end of one season, summer. But the end of summer announces a whole new season. Not duck season or even wabbit season but rather as Mr. Fudd might pronounce it, witing season.
One good thing that the end of summer brings me is more time to write. And that's just what I've started to do.
So chillier nights and days of shorter sunlight can't dampen my spirit nor do they throw salt on the wounds of a dying summer. For tomorrow may be yet one more glorious beach day (woo hoo), tonight is a nice dinner and a film with good company and the rest of my time is writing, reading, working on scripts.
Now you'll excuse me while I go back to reading a colleague's work for an upcoming group critique. :-)
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
The End Of Summer
September 14, 2010. The End of Summer
For most people I assume, as a child and up through ones teens the "official end of summer" is the beginning of each new school year. The first day of school becomes a benchmark. Undeniable and absolute.
As I inevitably moved into adulthood, the end of summer had little to no impact on my day to day life. It was what is was. Just another shift in the seasons. For many of my adult years, working in theaters and nightclubs, even Labor Day became just a blip on my yearly radar. Summer was a just a word, less important in my daily existence than the simple fact of whether or not it was going to be a hot or warm day.
The end of summer became the mundane change of seasons, the inevitable and eventual yearly autumnal equinox. As September comes to a close, October is just around the corner. Many years of my life pass and the fact that there even is a summer, becomes moot.
As I rapidly approach sixty years of age, my view of the "end of summer" has been filtered by events over the last ten years of my life (such as it is).
I'll address the more recent event first - buying a second home on the Jersey Shore just over five summers ago. Weekends "at the beach" become an undeniable benchmark for summer. When the Labor Day weekend rolls around, when the lifeguards stop showing up, when the beach is "officially" closed... you can't escape that overwhelming reality. Summer, whether you like it or not, is over!
But there's one more "benchmark," an even more powerful event that occurs each September that for me, trumps Labor Day and all other commonly accepted standard measures of time.
In 2001, the Brooklyn Cyclones, a "single A," short season, Minor (NY Penn) League team of the New York Mets, were established in Coney Island, Brooklyn, NY. The first "professional" baseball team in Brooklyn since O'Malley stabbed all Brooklynites in the heart by taking the Dodgers west.
Needless to say, a fan of the Cyclones I became. Starting out with the "mini-plan" tickets, I quickly became a season ticket holder. A die hard.
And then it happened.
Year after year, weekend house on The Shore or not, MY official end of summer became the last Cyclones game I attend in Coney Island. Even though the Cyclones play in a "short season" league, they always finish their season just a bit after Labor Day. And each year, that last game I attend always feels like the last day of my summer (long pants and sweatshirts notwithstanding).
Most years (not counting 2001), the final games I've attended have been a "wait until next year," bittersweet moment. And in every case they became (like it or not) the final, absolute (often melancholy) last day of summer.
So here we are...
2010 was a great year for the Cyclones. They had the best record in the league. Two of the best five pitchers and two of the best five hitters in the league, including the batting champion. Their coach, Wally Backman, may just have secured his place as future coach of the Mets (next year?).
And yet... They struggled against the wild card team in the first round of the playoffs, losing the first game, kicking and scratching to win the next two (all playoff series are best of three).
The Cyclones lost the first game of the Championship series last Saturday. Scheduled to return home on Sunday for the remaining two games, both Sunday and Monday games were rained out.
Which brings me back to tonight. September 14, 2010.
If you haven't figured it out by now, my beloved Brooklyn Cyclones, (the best team during the regular season), lost the championship series (and congratulations to the Tri-City Valley Cats - they earned it).
I could address the fact that somehow, the Brooklyn Dodgers found mores ways to lose the World Series than win it or I could make some (obvious and clichéd) NY Mets references... but that's not the point of all this.
The point is, I just attended, in Coney Island at MCU Field, the very last game of the Brooklyn Cyclones for 2010.
Summer is officially over. Sigh.
For most people I assume, as a child and up through ones teens the "official end of summer" is the beginning of each new school year. The first day of school becomes a benchmark. Undeniable and absolute.
As I inevitably moved into adulthood, the end of summer had little to no impact on my day to day life. It was what is was. Just another shift in the seasons. For many of my adult years, working in theaters and nightclubs, even Labor Day became just a blip on my yearly radar. Summer was a just a word, less important in my daily existence than the simple fact of whether or not it was going to be a hot or warm day.
The end of summer became the mundane change of seasons, the inevitable and eventual yearly autumnal equinox. As September comes to a close, October is just around the corner. Many years of my life pass and the fact that there even is a summer, becomes moot.
As I rapidly approach sixty years of age, my view of the "end of summer" has been filtered by events over the last ten years of my life (such as it is).
I'll address the more recent event first - buying a second home on the Jersey Shore just over five summers ago. Weekends "at the beach" become an undeniable benchmark for summer. When the Labor Day weekend rolls around, when the lifeguards stop showing up, when the beach is "officially" closed... you can't escape that overwhelming reality. Summer, whether you like it or not, is over!
But there's one more "benchmark," an even more powerful event that occurs each September that for me, trumps Labor Day and all other commonly accepted standard measures of time.
In 2001, the Brooklyn Cyclones, a "single A," short season, Minor (NY Penn) League team of the New York Mets, were established in Coney Island, Brooklyn, NY. The first "professional" baseball team in Brooklyn since O'Malley stabbed all Brooklynites in the heart by taking the Dodgers west.
Needless to say, a fan of the Cyclones I became. Starting out with the "mini-plan" tickets, I quickly became a season ticket holder. A die hard.
And then it happened.
Year after year, weekend house on The Shore or not, MY official end of summer became the last Cyclones game I attend in Coney Island. Even though the Cyclones play in a "short season" league, they always finish their season just a bit after Labor Day. And each year, that last game I attend always feels like the last day of my summer (long pants and sweatshirts notwithstanding).
Most years (not counting 2001), the final games I've attended have been a "wait until next year," bittersweet moment. And in every case they became (like it or not) the final, absolute (often melancholy) last day of summer.
So here we are...
2010 was a great year for the Cyclones. They had the best record in the league. Two of the best five pitchers and two of the best five hitters in the league, including the batting champion. Their coach, Wally Backman, may just have secured his place as future coach of the Mets (next year?).
And yet... They struggled against the wild card team in the first round of the playoffs, losing the first game, kicking and scratching to win the next two (all playoff series are best of three).
The Cyclones lost the first game of the Championship series last Saturday. Scheduled to return home on Sunday for the remaining two games, both Sunday and Monday games were rained out.
Which brings me back to tonight. September 14, 2010.
If you haven't figured it out by now, my beloved Brooklyn Cyclones, (the best team during the regular season), lost the championship series (and congratulations to the Tri-City Valley Cats - they earned it).
I could address the fact that somehow, the Brooklyn Dodgers found mores ways to lose the World Series than win it or I could make some (obvious and clichéd) NY Mets references... but that's not the point of all this.
The point is, I just attended, in Coney Island at MCU Field, the very last game of the Brooklyn Cyclones for 2010.
Summer is officially over. Sigh.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Q & A Versus Q & Q!
Q and A is bad. It's usually a "poor man's excuse" for exposition.
But what about Q and Q?
A noir style script I'm writing has a few dialog exchanges which have rapid fire question, answered by question, followed by question moments.
Verbal jousting, as it were. (I think each question in the string becomes a statement.)
To me, this is a far cry from Q and A and unlike exposition, can actually work to create amazing subtext. It has the added advantage of establishing character as well as building unique relationship between characters.
My current screenwriting mentor commented in his review notes that these scenes were "Q & A" (with negative connotation). I think he's wrong. To be continued!
Update from Sept 8
Having discussed this with said mentor (many wines and beers later), he agreed that Q and Q is fine and that he may have "rushed to judgment."
Update from Sept 8
Having discussed this with said mentor (many wines and beers later), he agreed that Q and Q is fine and that he may have "rushed to judgment."
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