The Beach, Plans and Catching Up

So... here we are.  It's been mbggrphhh days since I last wrote something (other than checks!).  But that's okay.  It's been a bit of a whirlwind couple of weeks.  To wit:

We held a really big BBQ/party last weekend.  The days leading up to the party were buried in preparation.  I moved porch furniture (a seven piece faux wicker sectional) four times.  (Long story, our porch is under construction so the furniture went from shed, to backyard lawn and back twice.)

I cleaned the house top to bottom (literally).  We shopped (a lot), Suz cooked...  yeah, we were busy that week.

Couple of days immediately after party... lost! (R and R.)

This week, I took long walks two days in a row (trying the "get up early and walk," routine).  Exhausted me a bit but I'm going to try to keep it up ("regular schedule" style).

We had to go back to Brooklyn for an overnight so that (sort of) killed two days.  Saw two films (Love and Mercy and The Wolf Pack).  Enjoyed both but neither 'blew my skirt up.'

I spent half a day working on a tax issue (unpaid tax from 2011, due to my investment people not sending me tax info I didn't know I needed for filing that year).  It's all good, I just owe a little.

Spent some time at the beach yesterday (finally) - see below.

So what's really the story here?  Why bother writing this rather mundane tripe?

Well, I did get to bang on my keyboard for a while (always good for the ol' arthur-ritis).

And I did get to sneak in the photo.  BTW - it's the view from my bar stool.  :-)  Yesterday reminded me of what I thought retirement might feel like - and in a way it did... briefly, but I felt it.

So first I'd like to point out that the idea (or assumed idea) that I'd find it "easy" to get into any sort of routine in retirement has proven wickedly difficult.  Not sure yet if that's due to the shifting events that needed our (or my) attention or whether it's going to be "just the nature of things."  Time should tell.

But I also wanted to mention that I'm thinking (not nearly enough, but at least a little) about what my next script project will be.  Do I re-write one of my old scripts - as I initially thought I might do first - or start something new?  Or... do I tackle something completely different (other than this blog) such as a novel, fiction or fact (e.g., memoir).

On the re-write path, I did speak briefly with my old screenwriting teacher (at the party) about my script People Who Kill (a thriller that I still think has the best potential of all my scripts).  He mentioned that one of his connections might be interested in reading it.  Of course, it's not ready (ergo the re-write).

While it's not the first script I would have chosen to work on (I've a hankerin' to work on Guardian Demon), it seems the most logical choice.

More on this soon - I  hope!

p,s, Apparently, the only script I don't have a printed copy of is People Who Kill.  Hmmm...

Asbury Park, North Beach - from the Convention Center balcony bar (Anchor's Bend)

Fireworks

I remember (millions of years ago) watching fireworks from our rooftop on Avenue C in Brooklyn. You could see the fireworks in Coney Island - even though they were 6-7 miles away. 

There were a couple of times we sat on the beach in Coney to watch them.  The first time it was an amazing experience, sitting directly under the explosions caused a concussive 'thud' in your chest. Wow!  For a little kid, that shit's awesome!

Fireworks 'in the distance' never quite did it for me after that.  Sure they were cool, but that collective symphony of physical, auditory and visual power looses something as each part diminishes (or even disappears).

As boys, we loved setting off fireworks. Lighting them and running. Blowing stuff up. But as an adult.., meh.

When Macy's moved the fireworks from the Hudson to the lower East River, and since we were living in Brooklyn Heights, we had THE view.  After a couple of years of 'fighting the crowds' we found a great 'secret' location.  Furman St., below the Promenade, right on the shore.  It was as close as you could get to the barges. It was way cool.

Today that 'secret spot' is a giant, public park that tens of thousands have already visited. I can't even imagine how crowded it will be tonight. (Kinda glad I'm not there!)

Which brings me to Asbury Park.  During our first few summers here (not the very first, that year we had to stay on the boardwalk) people were allowed to sit on the beach to watch the show (see photo).

The first time we did this, I was transported back to those few summers on the beach in Coney Island.  I was "a kid again" (if only briefly).  I love moments like that and I hope to have many more of them as I drift into my twilight years.

So watching the fireworks in Asbury Park for the last decade or so, has been a blast. Even though we have to stand on the boardwalk or hang out on the second floor balcony of Watermark bar
(they don't allow people on the beach anymore) it's been fun.

Tonight, we're attending a BBQ with friends in Long Branch (up north a bit) and will be watching their fireworks display.  As a long string of AP fireworks comes to a close, I can only plan and hope to be able to attend again in future summers.

This is not "goodbye."

Addendum: The fireworks in LB were a huge disappointment (not to mention we were at least a quarter mile away). Our friends said, the AP fireworks were the best in years. Sigh.

Day One: Not A Diary!

So here I am.  Day one of retirement.  (It is a bit "early" for it but a very far cry from "techno-megabuck-buyout early.")

As it says in the title, this will not be a "diary of my days in retirement," for if it were, I'd have to shoot myself (and I don't own a gun, so I'd have to buy one, but that's against my principles, and things would get messy - pun intended - and...), 'nuff said.

The single biggest thing I can think of on day one is... drum roll... ready..?  I'm writing.

Not really a big deal. But then again, it is.

One of the great 'chestnuts' about writers and writing has always been, "write every day."  My response to that has (in a logical yet defensive voice), "yeah right... fuck that!"

To elaborate... My writing (pretty much exclusively screenplays), has occurred while I worked a full time job.  I drove, very close to every Friday night to our weekend house where chores, socializing and "chilling out" were pretty much the reason for being there. Sunday was drive home time.

That left Monday through Thursday nights for writing.  Some nights were unavailable due to various commitments (social, entertainment, etc.).  If I was lucky, I had an average of 3.5 nights, and another average of about 3 hours or less each of those nights, to write  each week.  In under ten years, I wrote six and a half screenplays (three full length, two shorts, one long short and one I abandoned after struggling with it for over a year).

Not bad for a "part time" writer but the notion, the "rule" that I "had to" write every day, not only just couldn't really work for me, but I found it unnecessary (see... logical AND defensive).

Which brings me back to today.  Day one.  The "urge" (need?) to write must have been lurcking somewhere as I just simply had to fire up the laptop, and "do that thing."

Yet, as we all know, the proof will be in the pudding  and be it chocolate or rice, I do love my pudding.

A Need to Write

Seriously.  I actually had to delete two (blank?) drafts and two minor rants about how bad I've been at keeping up with this blog.  No Shit Sherlock.

Needless to say, more to come (sooner, rather than later).

A New Season

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.  :-)

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.

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."

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