Month: April 2006

Story Bullshit

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Screenwriter Josh Friedman blogs about the time he was offered the chance by a good friend to write the screenplay for a "go" movie for an International Star.

All I had to do was meet the star, hear
the movie he wanted to make, and nod my head. The job was mine. That
was it. […]

After some small talk, I settled in to hear the movie. What happened
next was forty-five of the most entertaining and annoying minutes I
have ever spent in the film business. International Star stood across
from me and proceeded to act the movie out, giving me examples of
action scenes, stunts, sight gags, etc. He never stopped moving for the
better part of an hour.

And here’s what he kept saying the entire time:

INTERNATIONAL
STAR: So…we have a bar scene first. Maybe…a bar fight? Six men
against me…I’ll balance on a chair like this…take out all six…do
my funny International Star thing…maybe drink their drinks…then we
have some story bullshit…After that…I rescue this girl from…the
whorehouse? Maybe bandits…I’ll do my funny International Star
thing…like with this chair here…Then some story bullshit…and I
find this other girl tied up…there’s a chair gag…then some story
bullshit…

Here’s the conversation I have in the car with my friend afterwards.

FRIEND: So…you’re in, right? It’s fucking awesome, right?
ME: You’ve gotta be kidding me.
FRIEND: What?
ME: Story bullshit? STORY BULLSHIT? My part in all this is…story bullshit?
FRIEND: Oh don’t be so senstiive. That’s just International Star. He’s…international.
ME: He refers to my job as bullshit.
FRIEND: Which is exactly why I need you. You’ll make it better than bullshit.
ME: No way. Not doing it.
FRIEND: You HAVE TO.
ME: I don’t, actually.
FRIEND: I already told him you would.
ME: What!
FRIEND: I told him you’d do it. I told him you were perfect. He’ll take it as a personal affront.
ME: I don’t care.
FRIEND: I stuck my neck out for you. You can’t fuck me like this.
ME: I’m afraid I am fucking you like this.

And so I did.

Two weeks later I got this phone call from my friend:

FRIEND: So. I just wanted to give you an update on the International Star thing.
ME: Look, I’m sorry if I made you look bad–
FRIEND: Don’t worry. I fixed it. We hired someone else.
ME: Good. That’s great. How did you–?
FRIEND:
I told him that I had second thoughts about you. That after thinking
about it I decided you weren’t a good enough writer for the project.
ME: Wow. You’re fucking good.
FRIEND: Aren’t I?

His latest blog post, in late March, refers to his then-upcoming surgery for cancer.  It got him pondering some other "story bullshit" — what his eulogy might be:

I’ve spent the last twenty-five years composing my own eulogy. I’ve
never written it down, never even started it. But I’ve written it a
thousand times in my head. Ever since I was young I’ve been obsessed
with all aspects of my funeral. Who would speak, Who would be
there…What they would say…Where it would be held, what kind of
music would I choose…What kind of food would be served at the
afterparty…I’m an incredibly arrogant sonuvabitch, and it probably
won’t surprise you to know my funeral’s a pretty tough ticket it’s so
fucking crowded with mourners.

I’ve brought myself to tears
dozens of times with this masturbatory/fetishistic reimagining of my
final words washing out over the assembled masses. Sometimes funny,
chiding yet touching, my eulogy at all times insightful and peaceful
and reassuring to the thousands who have gathered to mark the passing
of one of the great unheard voices of a generation.

Words.

My ultimate words.

At the end of the day, why do we write? We write to remember, we write
to be remembered, we write to discover who we are, or determine it for
others. Our words will always outlive us, immortalizing us if not
always powerful enough to make us immortal. Although if we choose our
words well, there will always be a way back to life, a way to and fro
through time. Someone will always feel us like it was yesterday,
someone will smell our skin again, if we choose our words well.

If we choose our words well there need not always be a last. If we choose our words well there will always be a way to find us.

I have chosen my words. They are:

There are motherfucking snakes on the motherfucking plane.

I don’t know Josh, but I hope his surgery went well and I wish him the very best.

Why Couldn’t the New York Times Have Said This?

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I love it when people stay up all night reading my books. This came today from The Shaudy Life:

For some reason, I am awake. It’s 4 in the am, and I am still awake.
Just got done reading Lee Goldberg’s and William Rabkin’s "Successful
Television Screenwriting." Fabulous book!!! Absolutely amazing! I’ve
never read an industry book that I haven’t been able to put down, even
if it’s a topic I’m really interested in. They’ve got humor and wit.
And they’re a little cynical and neurotic, which makes me more
comfortable with being cynical and neurotic, myself. Fantastic book.

Thanks, Nina!

Maybe I Should Have Gone Into the Furniture Business Afterall…

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It isn’t easy making a living as a writer…and it’s getting harder, as the Independent reports (via POD-dy Mouth). Here are some excerpts:

Publishers have been forced to protect their profits by reducing
costs throughout their businesses. At first this meant redundancies,
consolidation and cutting production costs. But such have been the
rapacious demands of retailers that publishers have been forced to save
money on the riskiest part of their business: books. That’s why authors
are feeling the pinch.

Midlist authors who had sold in steady but unspectacular numbers
felt the impact first. Their sales were undermined by the decline in
library budgets. Once sales to these institutions fell away, they
became far less attractive to large publishing houses, the economics of
which make small books that sell in the few hundreds unsustainable.

Large publishers scythed through their lists.

[…] "The market has shrunk dramatically," says agent Luigi Bonomi.
"Advances are either very big or very small with nothing in the
middle." Orion paid £800,000 for Diane Setterfield’s The Thirteenth
Tale; but according to the Society of Authors, the harsh truth is that
the average advance rarely climbs above £12,000 for a two-book deal,
and authors’ annual incomes are under pressure – the average author
earns less than £7,000 a year.

In a somewhat related item, GRADUATE author Charles Webb is bankrupt.

Charles Webb, the novelist who based the couple on himself and his
long-term female partner, Fred, wrote the basis for a hugely successful
film but made one serious tactical error. He accepted a £14,000 one-off
payment for his work, and then watched the film take £60 million at the
box office. The wise generally go for the percentage, but material
wealth, he says defensively, has never meant much to him. It is just that he could do with some right now.

Webb and Fred, who settled in Britain six years ago after
emigrating from America, received a letter from their landlord last
week telling them to expect an eviction notice because they are two
months behind in their rent. Webb is hoping that a well-wisher will
offer them a place to stay while he finds a buyer for his latest works.

(via Bookslut via The Guardian)

Authors in the Sun

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The Palm Springs Festival of Books is coming this Saturday and features a bevy of bestselling authors (and me).  Authors include Dale Brown, Gregg Hurwitz, Thom Racina, Steve Alten, Loraine Despres, Senator Barbara Boxer, Taffy Cannon, Tab Hunter, Cloris Leachman, DP Lyle, Phyllis Diller, Susan McDougal, Theresa Schwegal, Barbara Seranella, Bill Fitzhugh, Nichelle Tramble, and John Morgan Wilson, to name a few.  But the big event is novelist Christopher Rice in conversation with his mother, international bestselling author Anne Rice. 

I’ll be there talking about medical mysteries with my buddy Doug Lyle, author of FORENSICS FOR DUMMIES, and discussing humor in mysteries with Thom Racina, Taffy Cannon, and JJ & Bette Lamb. The funniest thing about the humor panel is that it’s opposite Chris and his Mom, so I guess the joke is on us. (One year at the Las Vegas Valley Book Fest, I had a panel opposite John Irving in conversation with Roger Simon…guess which of the two events was attended only by me and three homeless people).

You’re Not My Hero

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Today I came across two opposing views on the "re-imagining" of pop culture properties. First, my friend Javi says live with it — recasting is an inevitable part of an industry that recycles everything:

In a culture where everything is re-made and re-hashed over and over
again, i can understand why people would get so mad about daniel craig becoming the new james bond, or brandon routh the new superman or david tennant the new doctor who (any hartnell loyalists out there? c’mon – express yourselves!). People crave stability in their heroes and the values they embody – and re-hashing and re-casting takes that way.  I get it.  I can even understand the good-natured argument between friends about how the only man ever to really capture the spirit of superman was kirk alyn, and the occasional shocking revelation that someone who’s opinion
you respect actually thinks that george lazenby’s work in “on her majesty’s secret service” has been shockingly under-appreciated…

…what i don’t understand is the all-pervasive vitriol – why put up web pages full of heated invective about craig’s perceived shortcomings? why the long angry treatises about how “the character is named ‘starbuck’ – not ‘stardoe!’” why all the keening wails over how some callous money grubbing producer “ruined my childhood?” why the nasty public outcry over michael keaton putting on the mask and cowl? why all the death threats about how michael shanks was no james spader? oh wait – there weren’t any, moving on.

…but the fact is we live in a society where everything is re-made, re-hashed and re-packaged endlessly – which means your idols can be frozen in time indefinitely. no need to put up a protest site, i
can just curl up in a sofa and watch my dvd of “octopussy…”

John Kenneth Muir doesn’t agree. Despite all the accolades that the new BATTLESTAR GALACTICA has been getting (including a Peabody Award), he thinks they should call it something else.

To reiterate my stance on Galactica: It’s well-written and I can enjoy an episode any time in much the same way I enjoy the tense 24. However, my problem begins and ends with the fact that it’s called Battlestar Galactica. The original series has been used as a "brand name" by Ron Moore to do something totally new, something unfaithful, something he wanted to do. That’s fine, and some people obviously like what he’s done very much. But it shouldn’t be called Battlestar Galactica

Why not? It’s still BATTLESTAR GALACTICA…with a few tweaks (for the better, by the way). Roger Moore’s James Bond is still James Bond, whether you like the portrayal or not. I’m with Javi in this debate (I don’t know how anyone could look at the new BG and pine for the old one, but that’s another subject).

By the way, LIVE AND LET DIE was my first 007 movie, too, and I loved it (hey, I think I was 10 at the time). But then I saw GOLDFINGER and it was a revelation. James Bond became my hero (and still is). That said, I still eagerly awaited each new 007 movie — and enjoyed them –even as I was rediscovering the early ones (this was before home video…I had to wait for the Connery Bonds to show up in revival theatres or on TV).  I was able to see them as two distinctly different experiences — the Roger Moore Bonds and the Sean Connery Bonds — and enjoy them for what they were (not any more. I cringe watching the Moore Bonds).

I can’t wait to see Daniel Craig in CASINO ROYALE. But the truth is, I’d be dying to see it no matter who was starring as 007 (Clive Owen, Julian McMahon, etc.). Because I’m a James Bond geek. Even at my ripe old age, I’m still a little kid when it comes to Bond…

UPDATE 4-18-07: John comments at length on the reaction to his original post. Here are some excerpts:

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I Hope My Mom isn’t Expecting a Mercedes For Her Birthday

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Dadwithlotus
My cousin Sam Barer wrote in his Olympian car column (yes, my family is full of writers) about the incredible surprise gift that he and his brother Joe gave to their father Arnie at his 70th birthday party:

Joe and I got up and roasted our father with a series of limericks. Finally, we invited Dad up to read the last one. "For all the love you’ve shown us and Mom, live your dreams before they’re gone. We hold the keys to your heart and we just hope it starts. Enjoy your ’64 Lotus Elan." I dropped the keys into our shocked father’s hands and then escorted him (and our stunned mother) to the bright red, series one roadster I’d snuck into the parking lot outside…

What a great gift. Maddie, if you’re reading this, you can start saving up now for my ’59 Caddy convertible.

Why I Blog on Amazon

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I have an Amazon blog. It doesn’t take much effort to maintain, since it mainly consists of  "repurposed" material originally posted here. The blog can be read as a stand-alone "Lee Goldberg blog," or my posts can show up, along with those of other authors, in a reader’s "plog" on your Amazon home page.  I get a couple dozen positive "votes" from readers on each new post, but still I wondered if enough people were reading my Amazon blog to make it worthwhile and if  it made any difference in the way people viewed me or my books. Now I know. I got this comment from Karen Oberst, a librarian in Oregon:

We get a lot of plogs, since as a library we order a great deal from
Amazon. However, the only ones I look forward to are the ones by Lee
Goldberg. I so appreciate the backstage look at both the television
industry, and how the writing is done. Thanks, Lee for your informative
posts, and for taking the time to update them so often.

The comment made my day. I never knew that libraries bought books on Amazon. The comment also told me that people are reading the Amazon posts and that maintaining the "Readers Digest" version of this blog over there is doing me some good.

A Cautionary Tale

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The LA Times reported today about the tragic downfall of screenwriter Eric Monte… a story that could serve as a cautionary tale for both TV writers and vanity press authors. The once high-flying comedy writer, who had a tumultuous relationship with the Industry even during his heyday, is now living in a homeless shelter. Two big lessons from the article — stay away from crack cocaine and don’t flush your money down the vanity press toilet:

A year of crack cocaine abuse robbed him of money,
dignity and a circle of Hollywood friends. Attempts to sell a
self-published book drained the last of his savings.[…]

With $10,000 from a "Good Times" movie option, Monte self-published a book, "Blueprint for Peace." In it he wrote that peace could be achieved if humanity followed seven basic principles: merge all  nations into one, stop manufacturing weapons of war, adopt one  universal language, eliminate money as the medium of exchange, abandon  the concept of land ownership, abandon the concept of inheritance, and  control population growth. Monte rented a booth at last April’s Los Angeles Times Book Festival,  but he failed to sell a single copy of his book.

"I just have to figure out how to market it," he says. "I know that as  soon as it starts selling, it will sell for 1,000 years."

Temptation

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This is a long post… so feel free to scroll past if you don’t have time to kill.  This week, I ran smack into an ethical dilemma and it was all thanks to this short email from a complete stranger:

Charles Willeford’s GRIMHAVEN. Looks like you expressed interest in it in a blog  a couple of years ago. Still interested?

Yes, I replied, of course I was interested. GRIMHAVEN is Willeford’s unpublished Hoke Mosely novel, his dark and self-destructive follow-up to MIAMI BLUES, his break-out hit. GRIMHAVEN  reportedly turned Hoke into a sociopath who murders his children. Willeford’s agent wisely counseled him that it would be career suicide to submit that book to his publisher and that, instead, he should bury it and write something that would capitalize on the success of MIAMI BLUES, rather than piss all over it. Willeford took the advice and wrote three more great Hoke novels before his death. But like all Willeford fans, I’ve been intensely curious about the book. The few people I know who’ve read it say it’s Willeford at his best and worst.

So hell yes, I want to read it.

A day or two later, I got another  email from the stranger. This time the note was longer, chatty, friendly, and full of tantalizing comments about the book ("it’s a viscerally sickening read, alright (I’ve got two girls), even if it has a certain internal consistency and simplicity"). 
He went on to talk about how he bought a xeroxed copy of the manuscript some years ago from a "bootlegger" for a mere $20 and that he came across  "some asshole" selling the same photocopy for $200 on the Internet. 

But I figure that it’s something the world should have, so I scanned and OCRed it, and after being distracted from it for about six months I’m finishing up the proofreading.  Right now I’ve got 200 tiffs and 200 individual-page text files, and once the proofing is done I’ll concatenate it into a single text file.  So the question is this:  What’s the best way to get it out to the people who want to find it?  Is there a torrent tracker favoured by traffickers of bootleg manuscripts?

Yes, I wanted to read GRIMHAVEN…but the idea that someone would take an unpublished manuscript that didn’t belong to him and distribute it all over the planet made me queasy…as did the idea that he thought that I would help him do it.

But why shouldn’t he think so? After all, didn’t I jump out of my seat when he offered me the book? Didn’t that make me just the kind of guy he thought I was? While I was wrestling with these uncomfortable questions, another email showed up from him:

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