Chained To The Keyboard

I just wrote —

FADE TO BLACK

THE END

— on my 1950s superhero adventure script.

Second draft is done. Came in at 116 pages, which I’m very happy about. It’s just one good, thorough rewrite away from finished.

So you’ll all be getting my blog updates back very soon. I miss you guys, I really do. Stay golden, all of you.

No, I mean it. Shine on, you crazy diamonds.

Writers from all corners of the scribosphere have been responding to Red Right Hand’s thrown gauntlet. The challenge? Post a single page from one of your screenplays.

I’m here to announce that I have finally caved to peer pressure. For your reading pleasure, here is the first page from the Invader Zim spec I wrote a few months ago, entitled ‘Even Scarier Monkey‘. Given that it got me my current job, I’m quite proud of it.

(It also forms a nice simian theme in combination with the previous post. Because we all know monkeys are cool. Although not as cool as pirates. Also, I apologise for the awful formatting. I couldn’t get John August’s style sheets to work in Blogsome.)

INT. ZIM’S LAB - NIGHT

We’re in ZIM’S underground lab below his house. Zim has a welding helmet on - he’s using a blowtorch to weld something inside GIR’S head.

He’s done. He turns the torch off, flips the helmet faceplate back and closes the lid of Gir’s head.

ZIM
Finally, the installation is complete! Do you know what this means, Gir?

GIR
Ummmm… No.

ZIM
With your new Mezmero-Chip, you will be able to mesmerise my enemies! My filthy enemies… And once they are mesmerised, I shall be able to -

GIR
You mean like this?

Gir’s eyes light up and become twin spirals - the classic ‘hypno’ effect.

Zim stares into Gir’s eyes, transfixed. He stands rigid in place, drooling a little. Gir’s eyes turn back to normal. He stares at Zim, then loses interest and wanders off.

CUT TO:

INT. ZIM’S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT

Gir walks into the living room. He’s holding a little chocolate popsicle. He plops down on the couch and flicks on the TV.
It’s the Scary Monkey Show - the whole show consists of a scary-looking monkey glaring at the camera. Gir licks at his popsicle and eagerly watches the screen.

On-screen, someone offers the SCARY MONKEY a banana. The monkey growls at the hand, knocks it away.

MONKEY HANDLER (O.S.)
Come on, now. Who wants a nice banana?

SCARY MONKEY
Raaargh! No banana! Me want freedom!

The Scary Monkey roars and leaps towards the camera. Someone screams.

The image goes to static, then a little hand-drawn error card pops up on screen. It says ‘THE SCARY MONKEY HAS ESCAPED. PLEASE STAND BY.’ It has a little smiley face and a picture of a camera crew running away from a snarling monkey.

Gir grins.

GIR
I love this show.

Wasn’t that fun?

I was awake at the hellish hour of 6.00am today in order to make the long drive to Brisbane to attend the voice-recording session for my animated TV episode. Up until yesterday, I wasn’t even sure I’d attend. It was so very far away, after all, and I didn’t know how welcome the lowly writer would be at one of these things.

Turns out my fears were unfounded. As soon as I came in, the creator/showrunner got on the mic and informed all the voice actors that the writer had arrived, which I thought was nice. The recording session went very well, with a lot of the dialogue getting big laughs. It was obvious that most of the actors are pretty good. One guy in particular - the voice actor for the two most important characters in my episode - did an outstanding job, always adding a new spin here or a few extra words there to make the lines funnier.

After my ep had finished, everyone went out of their way to seek me out and tell me what a great script it was. The creator in particular was full of praise; he informed me that my ep was one of the best in the season, and that they’d try to nominate it for an award (whatever that means!). According to him, I was the first writer who had been able to nail the dialogue voice for one of the main characters. He also invited me back to write another episode for them, and also mentioned a few other projects that he has coming up next year.

All in all, not a bad way to start the day. So I guess my advice to working writers is this: If someone invites you to a recording of your episode, you say YES.

Inertia is our greatest enemy. Our Achilles heel. Our cup of hemlock. Our deadly asp. (OK, I’ll stop now.)

Inertia - or ‘being a fat, lazy bastard’ - is something every writer has to deal with at some point. I had to overcome inertia just to write this post. Inertia is the force that tells you it’s easier to not write than it is to write. It’d be easier to check your email, read blogs, post on forums, read comics, play your Nintendo DS, wash your clothes… the list is endless. There are a million activities easier than writing - and less painful.

And no wonder. In this job you can wake up any time of the morning, and pants are optional all day. Of course we get complacent.

So how the hell do we fight inertia?

Routine. Write at the same time every day, and damn if that isn’t a lot harder than it sounds. Matt Waggoner compares writing routine to eating the same food every day. Good for him, but if I had to eat beans every day for lunch, I’d go insane. To be honest, some days I write in the morning, some days I write into the midnight hours. Routine just doesn’t work for everyone.

Deadlines. Ah. My favourite. The great catalyst, the force that fills us with righteous fear. There’s nothing like it. So what do you do if you’re not blessed with a contract deadline or a company breathing down your neck? Make your own. Seriously, set yourself a realistic timeframe, write it on a Post-It and stick it to your laptop. Or follow Warren Leonard’s advice and egg-time your way to success. Better yet, conscript your loved ones: Inform them of the deadline, then make sure they pester the hell out of you until you hit it. Imagine how bad you’ll feel if you let them down? Which brings us to…

Guilt. Mess with your own head. Set yourself a deadline, then mete out punishments and rewards to yourself, depending on how you did. Ban yourself from the internet, from buying comics this week, from playing video games, until you finish that draft. Finally…

Focus. Ever tried meditation? Stop laughing, I mean it. It’s not something I’ve experimented with very much, but it could be a useful tool for writers who need to clear their minds of unwanted clutter.

So there you have it: four methods for getting your ass in the chair and your fingers on the keyboard. But what happens when you get to that blank screen and find you have nothing to say? What good is overcoming inertia if you run straight into writer’s block?

Well, here’s the thing: Writer’s block is just another form of inertia. There’s nothing stopping you except your own brain. If you didn’t have anything to say, you wouldn’t have become a writer in the first place.

To finish up, I leave you with a quote from the prodigious Mr. Grant Morrison:

‘A cannon fires but once, but words echo across centuries.’