I've been getting messages asking for my latest pillow talk. Thank you for the support.
I've been in my writing cave working on some pretty BIG stuff I'm excited to share with you soon.
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Rule #64 Don't lose sight of who or what's really important. Like the old saying goes...your career can't bring you chicken soup when you're sick.-Kirk
PS. You do Netflix dontcha?
Sometimes you can just feel it in your gut when a day is gonna be governed by the runs, but to predict an entire year of gas well I do say that is a gift I wish I could find the receipt for and use as toilet paper.
2013 has been the cancer of years for me and one does not beat cancer one only hopes to survive it.
It’s been awhile since we’ve had any sort of pillow talk. This post will verge on being considered a vent-shesh but trust me your toes will curl at the end. If you’ve gotten this far I’m not gonna guilt trip you into finishing by saying, “If you leave now I’m gonna cut myself.” I wouldn’t do that. I have a perfectly fine window feet away from me if that’s how you wanna play it. (Special note: I’m really HIGH up.)
Let’s get to it…
Life comes in waves and sometimes drowning is the only path you have to really living – Kirk quote.
It’s taken me SOOO LOOOONG to write this pillow talk because I know what it means. It’s visiting fuck face feelings and admitting huge failures I’ve buried for a year… a year I saw coming.
I never believed we would make it to 2013.
A huge part of me still wishes it had ended. 2012 I was in a delicious place. I’d never been so happy. For New Years, I was content picturing E.T. crash
landing outside my window hungry for destruction. And in a way something alien did appear as my
world came to a smashing finale.
........................................................................................................My grandmother died........................................................................................................................
I feel my eyes watering as I write this but NOT because she’s dead. Hmmm… I blocked out how long I looked after her for… I think it was three weeks. It was April. A month after my birthday. That I know.
She LOVED to drink.
I’m not saying she was an alcoholic but in the 27 years of visiting I never saw her without a little hooch by her side. And I say GOOD FOR HER. She was 98. At 98 the only label people have the right to give you is, “GOD DAYUUUUM! YOU’RE 98!”
She LOVED to talk.
OMG she was a Queen Colombian Chatty Cathy. She had an opinion about everything and if she ever gave you the silent treatment, well you knew what her stance on the matter was by her cataract filled eyes. Sorry Abuelita but you know it’s true. You’d lose days in one of her stories.
She LOVED the Deis Clan and would always say so followed by, “I’m ready to die.”
It’s the weirdest feeling experiencing someone you love -- who by no means was suicidal just had a good run and was tired -- remind you every day they’re looking forward to death. She’d say it in a way like the Let Me Die Now Kit is on sale at Target. But come on, it’s Target – you can’t go in there and just buy ONE thing.
Toward the end, her push for me to find such a sale bordered on being a bit of a buzzkill. I swear if coupons existed she would have owned a scrapbook. Though my Español was/is a little rusty some words are universal – death is universal. The whole thing made me feel like such a child. I’m a GROWN MAN. <------ See big letters = grown man.
From 5 AM to 1 PM I looked after her, my mother filled in on the
days, my father stayed the nights. Abuelita
hung on for a good three weeks. But if
you were to ask her what she was holding on too she would be the first to admit,
“I don’t know. I’m ready to die.”
Really there’s no one to blame here for this delightful mood shifter but the asker who walked into it.
During this time I had nightmares EVERY day, night and nap. And I mean EVERY time I closed my eyes. I was so scared my father would ask me to take over his night-shift and while on my watch it would happen. She would pass – this dream later came true...
She had gotten so sick her lungs were collapsing. She literally was slowly drowning to death in her own fluids. Before hospice she was legally blind in one eye, used a cane to walk and had a wheel chair on standby. And at 98 her episodes of paranoia could only be masked by her TEEEEEMPER.
Most girls get mad, but let me tell ya, a pissed off Spanish chick doesn’t have to hit you for you to feel pain. If given the option between annoyed Spanish female VS a pack of Rottweilers pick the dogs! At least when Cujo’s done with ya, your ass has a chance to heal.
Before we took her home she spent a week or so at Saint Joseph Hospital pissing off the nurses and offending doctors. I’d forgotten how effortlessly charming her sarcasm was – I doubt the hospital has. She blamed them for her weak state, bad leg, Bush's reelection, you name it and at 98 everyone let her.
Sometimes you just know the truth is BS and going with the lie a bit longer is for the best – Kirk Deis said this.
We took her back to her one bedroom apartment. And for those of you still hung up if she had a drinking problem, well the day we left SHE made sure to find out from the doctor if she could get her drink on. And guess the eff what?! The doctor’s orders, “She can drink as much as she wants.” Pink Champagne and Brandy sales hit an all-time high when she made it back to her casa.
Although she had good days peppered here and there for the most part her symptoms got progressively worse. She was too weak to walk, too tired to get angry, she couldn’t even enjoy her freakin’ whiskey. I know, WTF kind of life is that? But she could talk. Then again she always could talk :)
We were near the end of April 2013 when it happened...
The days mirrored each other. During this time she’d tell me she could see three white Angels standing next to her bed. She told me she heard long lost relatives calling for her. She kept talking about a dog she had as a kid and asking me if we could take it outside and just play with it for an hour or two. She begged me to let her die.
The day finally came when my father asked me to stay the entire night. I wanted to say no but how could I? I just remember nodding my head a lot and really missing the one person I’ve ever REALLY missed -- Janet.
Janet is my ex. Not
my choice to give her this title, she left me at the start of 2013 but it’s
not a competition. I don’t believe
either of us won from the outcome. Anyway,
I think it was two or three days after my Dads birthday Janet called a quits.
Soooo January 7th 2013… all I see is the year 2013.
Although I heard from Janet a few months ago (August-ish 2013) and thought in my best Pinkman voice, “FU 2013 we’re gonna make it biiiiitch!” That didn’t last. I shouldn’t be so surprised. 2013 has gotten the best of me in everything this year.
It’s been a long time since we’ve talked. Janet’s doing her thang as am I. I doubt she’s reading this -- baaaaaabe if you are WTF are you doing yo?! Bust down my front door already ;) I gave up the whores, drinking and partying – for me, not you. I don’t know how to give up on anything when it comes to you.
Enough ex-time, back on point…
The night my grandmother passed away I wasn’t alone. I’m not ashamed about this. Not anymore. You see every person has a limit. I hit mine monthly this year. And when you know shit is gonna go down and you’re able to detach YOU DO SO. And 2013 turned me into an expert at not dealing with shit. I have many vices but only one I ever loved. Don’t get me started on this sleeping bear. All I’ll say is no matter where I hide 2013 finds me.
Thing is… you can only hide so long before you find yourself visiting an ex’s bedroom (“sorry” I couldn’t resist Janet). But it’s true; hiding is just a slow way of stalling the inevitable. It’s a safe easy path to Nothing-Land.
It was late, maybe around ten at night.
My grandmother was stationed in her bedroom. I was making my way to the little boys’ room, glanced at her resting and kept going. This rush hit me so hard I literally stopped and pressed my hands on my knees to keep from falling.
I’ve never seen a dead person before but I instantly knew she was D.E.A.D. She finally found peace I couldn’t ever buy her at Target and noooo I never checked Walmart guys. I wasn’t the best grandson I guess.
This was one of the longest and loneliest nights of my life. I didn’t get home until around 5 AM (for those keeping track my shift would have started
at 5 AM). I
woke up my folks with a phone call and told them the news in my best calm man voice.
A lot of waiting around came next. Waiting for my parents to rescue their little boy. Waiting for Janet to show up. Waiting for my vices to kill me. Waiting for my grandmother to wake up. Waiting for 2013 to finally go away.
It was truly boring. For those who have ever been to prison you know what I mean. A lot of sitting around listening to filtered air settle with a buffet of bad food nearby to give you something to do as life escapes you.
Arrangements had already been made to pick up her body when it finally happened. And it was pretty straightforward. Nothing like the movies except for what you expect to hear, “I’m sorry for your loss…my condolences…you’ll get through this.”
No surprises. Everyone who wasn’t family said, “XYZ will happen.” And XYZ happened. Abuelita would have loved it. She was all for an organized mess.
Me… I just remember nodding a lot. I just remember missing the only person I’ve ever REALLY missed.
"Wait...How Does This Relate to Stories Kirk???"
Woooow way to kill the moment guys. Jeez. Okay. It has everything to do with STORY IDEAS.
Some of the best story ideas hurt like a mofo. They’re filled with love, potential and can be told a hundred different ways.
THE CATCH: Every Story Idea Has a Finite Lifespan.
You can’t expect them to be good every day. It takes work and even then miracles aren’t bad for their health. You have to give it time. Let it grow. Breakup with it. Hook up with it. Let it die. And see what happens.
Stories need to experience life and yes eventually stories need to pass on.
At some point you have to admit to yourself what you have in
front of you. You realize this story
isn’t perfect and that scares you but it’s yours. And you’re a fool if you don’t hold its hand
and yes even embrace the LIES that got you there.
Every there is different for each of us but there is a there for everyone. – oh-la-la this is for sure a Kirkie quote.
OR you realize there’s nothing more you can do for the story idea. This is a tricky one.
For those suffering from "writers block” *Cough - BS Ego Trip find the cure here - cough* this is not an excuse to end a story. It’s more realizing all the parts of the story idea are there and have been told before. There’s nothing more it wants you to do for it. At this point you shelve it. In twenty some years you can share stories about it with your kids, but for now its magic chi has vanished.
After this experience I’m pro people having the option to
decide when and how they want to die.
My grandmother suffered at the end. There’s no romantic way to say that so I won’t even try. And if you were expecting this piece to be one of those, “How great she was when she was alive bits” knock it off. We all know that story idea.
My advice for those stuck in the place of what “this should be” is simple. Repeat after me: “I won’t
drag stories on forever. I won’t drag
stories on forever. I won’t drag stories on forever.”
And while you're at it don’t be one of those storytellers in love with your own words. Realize even the best of us have to say goodbye every now and then.
I know my grandmother is in a better place. I was with her at the end. Her body had become a prison that couldn't even enjoy a salad at the buffet. I bleeping know she is in a better place. As for the only person I’ve ever REALLY
missed… well that’s another story idea for another night.
I'll cya when I do 2013.
Rule #38 If you keep having the same thought over and over again it means something. Don't be scared to follow that idea to the end.
PS. Three Days Grace “Gone Forever” inspired the title of this pillow talk. It was playing while I wrote away. Click here and enjoy the tune.
There comes a point where all the words in the world sound the same. I guess that’s why we have looks.
Have you ever been in a situation where you knew exactly what to say? You had a feeling deep in your gut that if you said XYZ then the whole world would make sense or vice versa if your name is Doctor Killjoy the solar system has your blessings to implode.
But you didn’t say it… something about the spectacle of it
all, something about not knowing, the chase -- it felt safe in a way right? Don’t look at me like that, you know exactly what I’m talking
We all know this stage and lucky
us it happens to be tonight’s topic of pillow talk. Drum roll please. Ba-da-da-daaaa....
-HOW WE USE WORDS AND WHY WE DON'T-
Imagine having the superpower (cape optional, mask not) to say exactly what you are feeling and thinking and get straight to the point when speaking with someone. Now I’m talking about that immature impulse that just blurts random crap out. That’s childish.
I mean that moment when we’re with someone and everything clicks – yet we don’t say it. Ahhhh… see I knew you knew what I meant. Remember when you lie like this, you have to remember every detail next time said topic comes up. Just saying. Lying is tedious.
We have to drag things on and on and onnnnn… but por que? And I answer – We love the draaaaaaaaaaaama! This is how every story needs to be told if you want to keep a humanoids interest.
You need to tease the secret and get me there. I know what you want, I see the way you look
at my sexy, but show me chivalry isn’t dead eh ;) But don’t be a three legged scorpion about it
and not call me for a week. What the
hell’s that about? I said tease, not
engage in psychological warfare. TEASE. Your story must always tease at every turn or it risks boredom which leads to DEATH.
I’ll break this down for you in what I call the Trifecta of Words. (Disclaimer: This applies to storytelling and human interactions. So use these secrets wisely and by wisely I mean go crazy with it.)
You have to setup the universe so I think you won’t even whisper a hello to me. And I mean really sell it. Even on my birthday make me think I’ll get the dreaded cold shoulder. Then at the very last second turn around and sing, “Happy Birthday Kirkie!”
2. The Munchausen Tease
Every time you give a tease don’t forget a new one should take its place sometime soon. It would appear the timeline for this in 3D is less then a week. In a story you have around 15 minutes. Unless your plan is for that tease to be the tease to end all teases. WOW. What a tease.
Another thing to remember, the same tease over and over
again gets boring and NO NEW tease to follow up also equates to boredom!
Only two ways out: A) You have another tease up your skirt or B) The tease to end all tease aka the end of your story takes place.
Drama has a finite lifespan. If you can stomach it look at the Matrix Trilogy as evidence. You can’t have things drag on forever. And like a conversation you can’t wait for the stars to align to say what needs to be said. There is a ticking clock. Things must evolve and resolve one way or another.
The worst possible thing you can do is play it safe and not pick a side. Fortune rewards the brave grasshopper.
You are my Mary-Jane in this endless obsession of Prozac. You’re an empty Fenway stadium on the busiest day of the year. You’re a reason to travel to Paris and there’s NOTHING panty dropping about Paris. I mean come on, they speak French for pete-sake! Gawd, where is Doctor Killjoy when you need him?
In a recent post I talk about how fear should be a tool to motivate us, unfortunately it’s also a story killer and words official Kryptonite -- All leading to the dreaded boring state of mind. Not too many souls stick around when a conversation is boring, let alone a story.
It’s taken me a surprisingly VERY LONG TIME to realize just
how powerful words are.
Which begs the question, what do you think saying nothing means? Yeah, I just blew you’re bleeping mind huh? It’s what I do.
Rule #228 If you ever find yourself in a situation where you're paralyzed by words, let out a loud scream and suggestive nod.
A lesser person wouldn’t know how to deal with his premature-15 minutes of fame. They would block certain people on Facebook, moderate comments, maybe even hide their email address in shame, but not yours truly. I own my sexy.
Tonight our pillow talk is dedicated not just to the stalker community but to MY lovely stalkers!
Hi gang, love ya :)
The count as it stands is 5. Not to brag, but that’s almost one person per week. I’ve never look forward to the holiday season soooo much. Just in case anyone is wondering, I look dreamy in purple.
Now I’m not here to take advantage of anyone. But I am making moves. I want to connect with my readers in a deeper level so in order to respect their privacy I won’t reveal their full names, locations, or photos (yes photos were unexpectedly sent. Stop with all the judgment. Jeez.) BUTTTTT I will answer some questions/comments they’ve fired my way.
Before we get this ball of fun rolling some of you are probably feeling a bit jelly inside and are wondering what it takes to make the list -- understandable.
These fantastic 5 stalkers are labeled my special stalkers because…they have done either one or all of the following actions: Blown up my email/website, somehow found my phone number and called me at 7am, texted me at 7:05 am asking why I didn’t pick up, left comments on my website (and/or social media sites our pillow talks can be found at), been kinda creepy (You know who you are!), said or did something that made me look up CA state laws – okay you guys get the idea… let’s get to the nitty-gritty already!
STALKER QUESTIONS/COMMENTS (IN NO SPECIAL ORDER STALKER COMMUNITY – I HEART YOU ALL EQUALLY):
1. Email: Can you get me a date with a Cannibal?
For those just tuning in I built this website dedicated to a show I created called The Cannibals Next Door. Here’s a link – it’s a story about a family of Cannibals on the run. Keyword: STORY.
And even if I knew a real life cannibal I don’t know you
well enough to set you up homie. How would that conversation even go down?
"Oh hey Kaley, soooo Mitch really wants to take you out on a date and go miniature golfing and get a slice of pizza with ya. He's a cool guy, really homie. I think you should give him a shot he isn't a vegetarian don't cha know."
Hmmm... maybe I'm overreacting. You had me at miniature golfing.
2. Text: Aliens are coming to abduct all the sexy people, don’t worry! You should be safe I'm only texting to say bye.
This one made me laugh. It’s cute even for a stalker right? Come on. It is. Don’t be mean.
Not sure how my number was found, but to get a call then a text like this well it doesn’t feel as weird as one would think. The text built a level of rapport in a twisted way.
Only thang… I’m a pretty sucky text replier. I don’t think I ever said bye. Hmmm… can MetroPcs send text signals to outer-outer space? Anyone know? Trying to right a wrong here guys. Let's not keep karma waiting.
3. Email: Who is this mystery girl you keep writing about? Is it me? Can it be me?
Owwww… I get this doozy A LOT. It’s a juicy one. Readers are catching on that I reference a mystery gal maybe once or twice per post. And everyone is suspect. Her name is…nah I can’t tell you that.
BUT I WILL. Just not tonight. Remember, Batman doesn’t just wear a mask because it’s cool.
“Whaaaat Kirk?” I’m saying I have a code, yes just like Batman! Eventually it makes sense to put everything out
in the open but not tonight.
“But who is she Kirk?!” Right now it’s not you.
But could it be you? I don’t know. Maybe. You stalkers -- so forward, my-my.
4. Email: Have you thought about writing erotic pieces?
I am. All I do is write Triple-X Hardcore NSFW Word Porn. My bedroom is better than a peephole party at the Playboy Mansion. Or so I hear.
And yes I am open to writing other styles as well. And I mean anything. Feel free to leave me a story/idea/pillow talk post below or email me at Kirkusm@gmail.com and if I dig it I’ll write about it.
5. And wrapping up our stalker questionnaire: Children in my country fight AIDS with more conviction.
I also give dating advice, talk about how to diss someone one level before that point of them wanting to cut themselves, and even write about Nintendo being a racist madda effer.
But Halo gets alllllll the attention? Que sara sera I guess.
That wasn’t so bad was it? I don’t need to hire bodyguards right?
In all honesty I appreciate the feedback, comments, likes, reposts, hate mail, yes even calls from you readers. So thanks and thanks in advance. It’s nice to hear back from you guys every now and then.
You 5 were my first 5 stalkers. Daaaaw.
We just had a moment. We should all get together and do a stalker brunch or something soon.
Rule # 136 Things are never as weird as they appear to be. On that note, when things are great admit they’re great because it may be awhile before it’s ever that great again.
PS. Don’t ever call me at 7am again! Who does that? Seriously. -_- LOVE YA!
I’m never more alone then when I’m with someone. There’s a side of me I’ve never truly exposed. The nearest I ever came to letting someone in was for nada because she left.
I think back on losing her a lot more then I like to
admit. I used to wish I had one more
good day with her. Just one. I would be so selfish with her she probably
would leave me. Ouch! Okay now I know, too soon -- too soon.
But you have to right? If it’s the last time you’re gonna see them smile and you don’t keep them for yourself, well then I don’t even know you right now the way I thought I did.
Alas I used to feel like this… then one day while I was wishing away I realized I didn’t know when the last good day was for us. Like I said, I never saw it coming. The best part of me leaving killed me inside.
But before you get all sappy on me this isn’t a sad pillow talk but an optimistic one. “Whaat??? Happy Kirk?” Yeah? Hey, I can be happy every now and then.
If Belgium can host the world’s largest sand sculpture festival then I’m allowed to fake a smile. Yes, I just gave a shout out to my one and only reader from Belgium. Her name is Christy, she left a comment on another post but it didn’t show. My apologies to readers going through this pain. I’m still working out my updated website kinks. Huh, is that why we’re fighting so much lately? Awwww.
All this has me thinking if I could let you in my mind what would you really think?
--10 Semi-True Stereotypes About Us Writers--
1. Oh how I looooooooooove to lie.
Essentially everything I do is a lie fantastically dressed up in one way or another. The more you believe the lies the more alive I feel.
I’m not lying about this either…
2. Just because I write, doesn’t mean I know HOW to write.
I didn’t choose the thug life, it choose me. I’m not perfect. I know you feel like I am, but I have to pop your cherry right there. Nooo, I won’t let you down the way you think. I won’t walk away, but I am flawed and can only take so much and although I wouldn’t walk I do drive a purrrrty mustang.
It doesn’t mean I don’t love you like crazy. I’m just saying, I don’t have it all figured out (not that you should either but apparently as a writer I must – BTW any writer who says he does have it figured out is lying.)
In other words… expect typos.
3. You don’t have to pay me, I love working for free.
For the right project, the right platform, the right friend,
the right smile, the right smoothie, the right CD mix, I’d be down to work for free99.
4. Although I’ve been known to binge in booze when I’m depressed, I can’t afford to be a full-time alcoholic.
What do you expect if you don’t pay me?
5. I thought of the Batman story before the Nolan brothers did.
Every writer out there thought of some story before someone else. Thing is, I really thought of the Batman story. I have a list of things I plan to do when I’m all “Hollywood” one is write my Batman story. Hopefully Affleck won’t kill the franchise before I get there.
6. No one understands what I do and guess what NEITHER DO I!
People ask me all the time what my process is – some even go as far as to throw terms around like “theme.” Every time funky words like that are spoken I feel less and less like a storyteller.
Writers who utter words like this are robots to me.
7. Writers are all dead white men named Tupac.
Competition is fierce out there so I’ll be the first to say I’m over Mister Shakespeare. You’re gonna hear a lot of people urging you to honor the classics. And you should… because they’re ummm classic. Herrro Horatio.
But what if you honestly don’t dig them? You still have to pay respect? I don’t think so unless iambic pentameter is making a comeback.
Maybe you could study their “theme” and stuff. Yeah, cool story bra. (What is that 7 syllables? 6? Dang it!)
8. I live in a coffee shop.
I hate coffee. I’d rather be an alcoholic.
Speaking of which, I wonder how that alcoholic stereotype began. There are so many stereotypes out there I feel might have been strong contenders and well suited for us.
For instance, our love for fried food, not always being the best at math, kinda crazy (Is being crazy a stereotype? Really society? That’s crazy.)
How did we get stuck with being drunks that could put 007 to shame? At least we can drive and park unlike you lovely ladi--
9. I’m not a loner.
I actually have a lot of friends. Now with that said, I am an extremely private person.
The catch: There’s only one person in the world who really knows me and I can’t remember the last time we talked. Oh gosh, maybe I am a loner? Hashtag Woooooooow!
10. I take too long to procrastinate properly.
I plan everything.
Even when I plan on wasting time, I plan that out. I have no idea what’s wrong me. I really wish I could just stop but I just don’t plan on it.
This feels like a quickie post I’m sure will have several
parts tagged to it down the line. Until
then I’ll leave you with advice my father once told me after I said I didn’t
need anyone, “You need at least one
person in the world to connect with otherwise what’s the point boy?”
Rule # 89 Eventually everything needs a label.
The oxygen pulling away from my heart is paralyzed by the thought of you. An intervention couldn’t tame the way my soul pulsates for you. To say I feel the urge to be a tad bit selfish with you right now is an understatement. You see I’ve traveled to the edge of the universe and back just to find you.
I’m not sure if I blinked. I force myself to look away, but cheat and find your reflection. I don’t care about being right or wrong. When you find someone that makes you feel this way, this happy, you don’t effing blink. You just go be happy. You are my happy.
My thoughts trip over each other like teen girls backstage at an N’Sync concert. Tonight is the best night of my life. I know the odds of it repeating are one in million if I don’t get that kiss right.
We’re pushing midnight with the music burning through the club speakers. My mind is only on you. You could whisper across the dance floor and I’d hear your melody clearly. God, I want to kiss you…
We lock eyes as we press our bodies against each other. Seeing you has ruined my idea of beautiful for all of eternity. The sides of your lips curl as you smile that type of smile that make men feel like Kings. Our cheeks touch. My senses run in overload. Your scent is my air. Your skin is my lifeline. I’m literally aching to kiss you…
I’m not hiding it. You have to know by now how much I need you. I’m just waiting for the right moment, for the chorus to break, for that chance to call you mine. They say the first kiss determines whether a girl feels this is going anywhere. A lot’s riding on this -- thank you dude who invented chapstick.
I can see it now... I’ll slide my hand near the slip of your dress down the side of your back. I’ll dominate you in the sweetest way as I take the nook of your neck and pull you in tighter. I can see it now. I’ll bite your lower lip; you’ll never forget this kiss. If it goes any further I swear I’ll do things to you that are illegal in seven states including California.
It finally happens. The music brakes… I run my hands through your silky hair. I tease you into thinking I’ll have you now. I slow down just one degree away from your lips. It’s sacrilegious but it is just one degree for now.
A drunk spills beer all over your dress. The moment is assassinated. But if it was there once, that means it can be there again… right?
Having your material read is A LOT like an almost kiss. It’s blue balls of the heart. It’s not getting any for two weeks, seven hours, thirty-three minutes and forty-two seconds. It’s forgetting where you saw the 8th wonder of the world. It’s a text conversation with no destination. “And isn’t it ironic… don’t you think…”
The whole story writing process is like dating.
Take the last script I wrote SUPERUSER street name = SuperSmexyStuff! An idea pitched to me by the great Mat Calica. A story that asks, “What if Steve Jobs were Tony Soprano?” Check out the website here: http://superusr.com/
HOW I MET MY FISH
Like love (and a long list of STDs), it finds you when you’re not ready. I was in an awful place when Matty told me about this gem. Thinking back, I don’t think he wanted to tell me. We were hanging out and stories (much like love and STDs) complicate things. We were just doing our friend thang and Matty being Mat could tell I needed a friend.
But if you know me, you know I’m a hopeless romantic. I managed to get the idea out of Matty and within two minutes I told him I was going to go to town on this story.
I know, I should have said that after ten seconds.
THE COURTING STAGE
Months were spent working on this script. I am not kidding when I say I lost my identity to her. But you have too. If you want her she’s worth new levels of schizophrenia. And let me assure you Good Lookin’ SuperSmexyStuff! is a groovy reason to go insane.
In this stage you work on your lines. You learn how to talk to each other. You find each others rhythm. You get good at looking good together.
Until the time comes where you want to be seen in public with SuperSmexyStuff! And trust me, the way her ba-donka-donk pops in that black dress you NEED people to see you with her.
You tell your friends.
Friends of friends start asking about it. This could be the one. You start passing around your pitch like a
fresh joint from Columbia. Soon peoples eyes
are lighting up.
They’re reading it!
3 DAYS LATER…
This is the stage that drives me batshit mental. I can handle feedback. I can handle rejection. But waiting for you to figure out your feelings I just can’t do. I spiral out of control. I develop pointless hobbies like running long distance. I hate running and do it all the time because of this waiting game.
But you gotta give it time. You have to be strong. The longer you wait, the better it feels. Hopefully you’re not a Night Owl like me. If you are cursed as I am, know I’m here for you. Hit me up.
Your rebound is out there and she is a perfect distraction to this lovely dilemma. Only thing… I personally don’t believe in rebounds. Never have. When I start a new idea THAT is MY world and I am a slut for her. Don’t even look at her. I’m not the jealous type but I don’t play when it comes to this stuff.
Hmmm…I guess that’s why I’m in the next stage below. I’m emotional about this. I realize I may need help.
Like I said, I don’t care about being right or wrong. I just care about us being good.
I’m a huge pusher for couple’s therapy. You can’t give up. If you do, I will never forgive you. Do what you must and make this right. Stop being so damn proud, stop being a chicken -- Go to couples therapy and fix your story!
“But when is it time to go Kiiiiiiirk?”
Biologically everything you do is building to that kiss to ultimately land you some coitus. There are many red flags that foreshadow an avalanche that may prevent this journey from climaxing.
The two most common ones: If you’re seen with her and getting bland feedback. If you can’t get the family and friends to approve you and your idea why would a stranger at Universal Studios?
Some of you may feel they should butt out. I advise against that. Better to hear what’s said then the silent treatment which is nail number dos by the way. Any girl I’ve ever been with knows I can’t stand this. Silence to a story for more than one week means it’s going through hospice.
“Okay, well what do I do?”
Don’t say goodbye. One of my favorite posts on SuperSmexyStuff! found here says ignore the naysayers. Writing is rewriting. I joined a writers group (aka couples therapy) and we’re work shopping SuperSmexyStuff! Find a group who will challenge you to be better. Accept the old draft is dead and dying but a new version is waiting for you to discover.
don’t hate the playa, hate the game. Or better yet, love the chase Playa!
There’s no point making “art” (ugh, I hate that word. Perhaps another post I’ll explain why) if no one is ever going to see it. You have to put yourself out there. People need to see what you’re about otherwise this is just a carpal tunnel bound hobby.
You gotta twerk it up a little. You really do. I’m gonna be very blunt here, “Umm what were you doing before Sir Kirkus?” Shhhh… don’t do that. You’re so pretty when you don’t say things like that XD
If you have a story to tell -- TELL IT!
It’s a long process. You love birds are gonna fight, breakup, not speak for months, but remember if there was once a spark it will ALWAYS be there… unless you give up on it.
Rule #24 Don’t just go through the motions. Kiss me.
This eats me to the bone but truth be told I want to quit.
I want so badly to run away to a System of A Down concert and hide forever in the crowd. I want to hang up this writer mask and just be normal. I want the blue pill.
Instead I feel like I’m counting the arms of a suicide watch as I eat cereal swimming in mercury while I bake in direct sunlight. I have sincerely walked away from this industry half a dozen times. But like a crack-whore I just can’t say no to this smack.
My gypsy soul is to blame. We are who we are, no matter how much we wish we weren’t.
No one ever warned me how deep this rabbit hole gets. I’m not blaming anyone. There’s no way to prepare for the darkness when all that’s on your mind is the dream.
But before you take that first leap you need to ask yourself -- are you ready to live life like a convict on the run waiting for the day that knock on your door arrives and you realize the gig is up? Well… are ya?
The film industry is a Business with a capital B. Leave your story drama at home and brace yourself because if you don’t want to quit you’re not trying hard enough. If you’re not scared about tomorrow then you’ve lost your way. If you can’t imagine yourself giving up on your dreams, it’s not a dream.
They say persistence is the key to making it in this industry. Personally fear is what drives me. Fear is why we lock our doors at night. Fear is what made caveman hunt mammoths. Fear is why we still put up with American Idol.
It’s primal. A raw emotion that one day you’ll realize is your best friend. “Come again Kirkegaard?” Being scared tells you it’s worth something. Being scared reminds you, you’re not there yet. There’s room to grow. Being scared, truly bleeping scared will show you just how bad you want this taco dip.
“But I already know that I want this.”
Of course you do grasshopper and nothing in the world will ever stop you from saving Princess Peach. Hold onto that quest. Surround yourself with people who are scared with you, not for you. Quit once or twice and get your fine ass back here for that makeup-sex!
Being down isn’t a good place to stay. And I promise you, you will hit new levels of rock bottom. You will lose yourself to this fantasy. You will be sick and uninspired with nowhere to turn. And so many people won’t understand your whys. “Why do you keep trying? Why do you keep wishing? Why do you do this to yourself?”
Yes, this is ALL YOUR FAULT and no, I don’t feel sorry for you. And you shouldn’t either. Don’t you dare justify this stage in the game as “paying your dues.” Eff that! And don’t tell the people around you what they want to hear. Say it for what it is. Look at yourself in the mirror and smile.
Do you know how many people quit and never came back? Do you know how many people had the fairy
dust wash off? You didn’t though. You’re still here. Hmmm… well the night is still young, right?
Rule #54 You can lie to the entire world but at the end of the day there’s no lying to yourself.
Ohhh deep yo. The sweet-sweet sensation of a heart being torn into shreds. Nothing compares. You’re not a member of the human race until you’ve experienced this ecstasy. Lately, I’ve noticed this epidemic amongst our fellow freaks. We seem to be at war with love.
But before I go any further know this -- I LOVE love. I love the way she looks at me. I love the way she stays with me through the night. I love the way I get lost in her eyes. I love LOVE. So it brings me great sorrow to say for our breed of storytellers making love last shall be one of the greatest achievements of your life.
You will end up with either one of two people: Option A) A fellow artist. A dreamer.
The paint brush to your canvass. Orrrrr
B) A normal 9 to 5 real world person.
And guess what? The rules for both these people are the same. But as long as your main squeeze is willing to put in the effort it’ll work out right…riiiiiiight??? Lets just pretend there was Viagra advice you could pop to help stack the advantage in your corner.
Consider this for funzzzzzies:
1. Have direction.
Gotta have it. You can be a screenwriter 24/7 and honestly your gal or guy will find it cute. They’ll brag about it to their friends and family. “He’s different. Mysterious. Like no one I’ve ever met before.” And you are! You’re Hollywood! I dig it.
But gang, that wears off FAST and when it does your ass better have a clear legitimate plan your partner can understand. Crystal clear. I can’t stress that enough.
A wise fortune cookie from China Star Express (holler) once read, “Don’t wait for tomorrow on something you can do today.” Start today by creating that plan of attack. This industry is a bitch and will destroy you and leave nothing behind. Don't think it’s all gonna work out. Show your partner you’ve really thought this through. I suggest a 5 year plan.
2. Be a safe bet.
Okay, so you gotta plan but not enough dough to go see Iron Man 5. It hurts. I know. I’m no stranger to the dollar theatre. But here’s reality, it’s gonna be awhile before you sell your script. It could be years.
Do you really expect your chick to be cool staying in every Friday night because you’re broke? It gets old guys. Money shouldn’t matter, but be real home-skillet, it does and anyone who says otherwise is either lying out of their bum-hole or doesn’t know what it’s like to be poor.
So what do you do? Get a normal job. Whatever it may be. You can write at night, on your breaks, when the boss isn’t looking. But get a job. Trust me, not only will it keep your partner happy but the circle around you, the ones who raise an eyebrow at ya, yeah those lovely people will back off as you follow your dreams.
Be a safe bet – something your partners’ fourth cousin on their dad side can bet on.
3. Don’t forget when you’re dreaming to include her.
This may be obvious but my-my how one often forgets the things that matter most. You’re a dreamer. A born storyteller. An entertainer. She’s gonna notice when you start talking about the future and mingling with the “in” crowd and she’s not by your side. Awkward.
THE SILVER BULLET CLAUSE: Not to be a downer, but I’m gonna be a downer.
Most relationships fail. It is their destiny. It sucks but that’s the truth. We don’t want them too, but the fact of the matter is, “It’s not me, it’s you boo.”
Sometimes you feel the storm coming, other times the bus runs you over before you even step off the sidewalk. All you can do is give it your everything.
That’s what you do when you’re in love.
You can’t walk away because you don’t have legs to stand on without her. You know that none of this means diddly squat if you can’t share it with her. Come on, we both know this is true you big old sap you.
And hey, I’m sorry if she throws it all away. I am. But if she loves you, give her some time, she’ll come banging on your door and fight for you right? Riiiiiiight??? Stop it! That only happens in the movies.
To the dumpee give it your all and if she still rejects you leave knowing that you did everything you could. You deserve love. You owe it to yourself to find love. Here’s the catch, don’t expect a different result with the next one if you’re not willing to change.
To the dumper, chill out yo! You had a great thing and you gave it up because you freaked out. You over thought while not thinking enough. It happens. We know…we know. We’re not strangers to this funny thing called love. The question is do you know and what’s it gonna take before you do something about it? Snap-crack-and-pop-el! Yeah that’s some truth laid all up on for ya :)
Rule # 201 Sometimes serendipity ain’t enough.
Who wants to make “talkies?” I DO! I DO! Cool – beans. Maybe I can point in you the right direction. Maybe. Recently I was able to direct teasers for a project very dear to my soul -- The Cannibals Next Door. This story has had a brutal life. It’s had great moments and been overlooked. It has kept me excited and completely destroyed my ego. Now it is one of my babies who’s growing up!
No one in the industry can do it alone -- myself included. As I give some shout outs pay close attention to the key elements you need beyond a script to make your own talkie.
1. The Alpha Producer
Look nothing is free and favors will only get you so far before you become “that dude who always asks for a handout.” I’m lucky to say the guy who helped me produce this project started off and will always be first a good friend: Mister Nick Oleskiw.
I met Nick over a year ago temping at a fashion store called Janus. We shared a lot of blood, sweat and candy there. What??? They had lots of free candy there and Nick and I have a sweet tooth. ANYWAY, after the gig ended Nick rose in the ranks of the industry landing a steady gig at APA doing this stunt: The First "Walker" See any the connection to Cannibals here? Hehe :)
From day one Nick has been there for me as a fellow writer, pseudo manager, producer, and most importantly good friend. Guys like him are hard to come by. I predict within the next ten years Nick will be owning the creative direction of several projects. The guys got a natural talent to make any story you send him better. I know he made my story better. Heck, he made my story possible.
2. A Great DP
One who understand when I say gorilla style what I’m reaaaaally saying is, “We may be bending several laws filming this.” But there’s an old saying, “A good friend will come bail you out of jail, but a true friend will be sitting next to you saying... Damn, that was fun!”
I nabbed the perfect guy for the crime -- Joey Valentia aka Joey Fantastico and yes he really is fantastic! Pay close attention to the name because this guy has what it takes. He’s an artist who understands yes having money will help any project but also having the guts and creative juices to tackle any project with a positive can-do attitude goes a long way too.
Joey will always be my DP. The day I land that big Hollywood directing gig he’ll be one of the first I call. Period. Ask him yourself: firstname.lastname@example.org
3. A Guardian Angel by the name of “Brian Diverio”
Brian’s your pal who just happens to know how to do everything and everything really -- really well. A lot of folks sent me love on the poster and stickers we handed out. Those have been the face of Our Cannibals. But I can’t take credit -- Brian can. Check out his portfolio: Brian's Sphere
I met Brian after leaving a post on Scriptshadow.com. Brian hit me up in one of the most hilarious emails I’ve ever received in my life! Brian is going to write the next comedy feature. It is his destiny. He is part of the brethren of screenwriters who are the reason audiences go to see talkies.
4. “El Editor”
World meet Stephen Herron -- Stephen here’s the world. I’ll give you two a minute…
Stephen is my brotha from anotha mada. He is the guy who is all about great storytelling. If Ebert & Roeper DNA had a love child and that kid grew up and go it on with Spielberg’s DNA then that formed into an awesome baby which grew up… it still wouldn’t be as knowledgeable as Stephen.
Stephen loves filmmaking. Like LOVES it. I honestly can’t say that. There are things I fancy about it but love… that’s a strong word. Stephen loves every part of it. Good and bad. He has a passion for it like no other. He will take a bullet for a project to ensure it gets done and it gets done right.
And you need that. You need a “Stephen Herron” who has your back and will tell you how to make your project stronger. It may not be something you want to hear, but Stephen does it out of love for the craft. That’s a whole other level of storytelling I hope one day to reach. Wanna see for yourself? Check out Stephen's reel here or better yet throw him a line at: email@example.com
I can only write so much. Joey can only film the hell out of so much. Nick can also produce sooooo much! At the end of the day, without great talent you got nada! Luckily, Cannibals had greatness…
*Kicking off our adventure is Mark McClain Wilson (aka Agent John Cronway) check out his website here. Things I dig about Mark: His class, radio style voice and ability to mix it up! Mark’s integrity makes everyone pick up their game. He has this classic grungy radio style voice backed up by his ability to ad libb any scene thrown at him. I’m pretty sure I did one take just to see what he would do. And you know what he did? NAILED IT. Yeah, that’s Mark for ya.
*Tommy Cooley (aka Eric O’Neil) is one of the most interesting young actors I’ve had the honor of meeting and now making movie magic with. This guy pumps out so much depth into scenes it’s kinda scary. The best way I know how to describe him is using the word honest. Tommy is an honest guy, who delivers honest performances. It’s that X-Factor not something one can just learn. You’re either born with it or not. Tommy was born with it. Keep tabs on him here.
*Shanna Micko (aka Nancy O’Neil) -- I kinda have a crush on Shanna right now. I can’t watch her and not smile. She plays against character type and I can’t thank her enough for this! Look at her website here. She is a mix of the mom next door and high school prom queen all grown up. Everything she does on screen is subtle and sooooo fun to watch. Shanna is just straight out entertainment.
*D. Scott Adams (Aka Paul O’Neil) came out here from the East Coast. The first conversation we had lasted just under two hours. What did we talk about? Story! Story! Story! Scott not only dabbles in the realm of acting but he’s a fellow screenwriter. His forte: Horror features. Scott is like a walking encyclopedia of things that crawl and creep in the moonlight. I believe he’s had two features optioned and after getting the chance to work with him I can see why. Scott not only knows how to tell a great freaking story but knows how to bring a story to life.
*Maria Cabrera (aka Kaley O’Neil) is my breath of fresh air. She recently broke out into the film scene. I think our group was one of her first attempts in film. I don’t think I have her figured out. I don’t think anyone will. I have emailed, talked with her on the phone, worked with on set and still feel like I don’t know who Maria really is. And that’s kinda cool. Part of being an actor is the allure of pretending to be someone else. Maria has a ton of allure.
6. EVERYONE ELSE…
Look, I know I’m forgetting people and if I don’t have this section there’s a good chance they’ll swing by my bedroom and shank me. So to play it safe everyone else -- family, friends, Frankie & Minx, supporters, the guy down the street, the girl who makes me smile, and yes you!
The reality is if you can lock down a script, get the funds, find a crazy DP, plus a genetically energized super editor, on top of an angel on your side and some talent on standby -- you can make something!
To everyone I mentioned above I owe you forever! Thank you for helping me make some “talkies” can’t wait till we do it again!
Rule #7 Don’t forget how you got here.
When you hear “no” enough times you start to expect it at every milestone in your day. From having no likes on a snazzy facebook pic -- to no new episodes of Breaking Bad for the next 3-4 months. You actually look forward to the universe going out of its way and shutting you down. And man, does it like it to say no.
After a while your insides turn numb and gooey – goonumby. Oddly enough, you feel pretty much the same when you hear “yes.” I still haven’t seen any new episodes of Breaking Bad? What’s that about? And don’t tell me to wait because “it’s coming soon!”
Everything as you can see eventually turns goonumby. It’s just how life works. And as a writer we are slaves to that emotion. So why is it taking you so long to get your fix?
Gross, you look like you have writers block ewwwwww…
The cure lies in the buildup to goonumby-vill. That ten second delay of pure bliss leading to an almost kiss. That uncertainty in the tone of your voice when you talk to a stranger. That part of you that says it’s safe to say these things you say when you say them to yourself. Do you get what I’m saying??? It’s primal. Bare. Raw. The pre-thought-after ideas. Don’t over-think it.
Writers block is just a term us writers made up not to write. Sorry my fellow freaks, the gig is up. The symptom doesn’t exist – like Pepsi Blue it’s out of commission (Note: This rule doesn’t apply to the state of Iowa. Iowa has everything, for those still reading, yes they even have writers block. It’s really bad out there. Someone should do something. Maybe Obama could help. Maybe). It’s a tool we abuse because we writers have God size egos and paper thin flesh.
The secret to getting around this is the build. Never mind the part of the story you’re stuck on. Focus on the part before and the spiraling action after. The build guys. No more excuses.
You can’t enjoy being goonumby if you don’t have something on the page to show.
Rule #345 A writers gotta write.