The system of "magic"

So, I've been thinking about two things regarding The Magician Upstairs: The system of magic, and the nature of the story.

See, the story I want to tell--as I've discussed in earlier posts--is that of how magic comes into the world for the first time, but more importantly, how magic comes into the life of one, not so special, guy. The more I think about it the more I want to tell a story about the magic IN life, the magic that has ALWAYS existed. I think that the best way to tell such a story is by telling a story about "magic." But, I'm afraid that People in the Know would say that such a story isn't commercial enough; it's almost a drama (as I imagine it). But, then I think of how Charlie Kaufman has managed to create such entertaining scripts/films/stories out of, seemingly, uncommercial material. I mean, take Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind--I loved the film. It was sweet, melancholy, thoughtful stuff, which held me riveted for the duration. But, on paper, as a logline, it would've seemed...uncommercial to say the least. After all, it's the story of a guy who can't stand to remember the love he's lost, so he has his memory erased...but while undergoing the procedure, realizes how much even the memory of the love and the associated pain means to him. He fights back--struggling to retain his memory, to retain the pain of lost love.

The danger I'm sure that story faced, in its inception, was of others telling him that maybe he'd started the story too early. That he should cut out all the drama of the main characters human condition and get right to the fight to retain his memory. However, it's the human condition of the story that makes it so poignant. It's the fact that we love the characters, and feel like our happiness is inseparably connected to theirs that makes us care when Carrey fights to retain the pain in the face of impending oblivion.

Such is the tone I desire for my Magician Upstairs story. I want to establish, poignantly, the human condition of my character; a character who doesn't see himself as worth much to society, a character who feels lost in the face of our high-speed world, a character who doesn't see the magic of life around him, a character who has no place...and yet, a character who wants to have meaning and purpose, a character who wants to fit in--to have the house, white picket fence, wife, 2.5 kids, a dog, a character at the end of his rope--as so many of us feel on a day to day basis.

I want to honor our lives in my story; I want to somehow present the nature of our mundane human existence in a bewitching, interesting, entertaining way--like Kaufman does; I want to reveal the magic of life, through a story of how a character gaining "magic" discovers, to his (and our--as the audience) great joy and satisfaction.

I don't ever want to settle for writing stories which are trite. I guess that's a needless worry, given my passion for stories that matter. I guess my fear is of expressing the power of my ideas in a less than relevant, poignant manner. I fear not doing them justice.

My second concern is how to represent the system of magic, and how to reveal the magic in life. My current idea is relatively good, I think. Basically it boils down to this: all of life: every creature, object, person, and action is tied connected. This connection looks kind of like a silver filament between everything; a web, if you will. These filaments are constantly being created, disrupted, and manipulated on a daily basis. A hunter ends a life by severing the filament bonding the creature's life to the whole of nature. A person falls in love with another person through the creation, and artful strumming of the newly created filament.

Our main characters power is essentially the manipulation of these filaments. And here's the kicker, his "power" requires everything else. Without others (plants, animals, people, objects, nature, life, the whole of our existence) his power is useless.

I'm thinking, as I've already mentioned, that these filaments are like strings. "Magic" is worked by plucking them--singly or in chords, at various places along the filament. You can disrupt by severing or creating discord, create by harmonizing.

I love this idea because it lends a musical and strongly auditory element to the story. In such a film, the music would be essential, rather than merely used for atmospheric effect. Which begs the question: how would a score fit into the film? Would it have to do without a score, period? Or, could a score be crafted to accentuate, and strengthen the underlying themes of magic through the playing of the filaments?

What's the problem?

Well, in some regards, an idea like mine treads on territory already trod by The Matrix films--at least in the sense that there's something underlying reality. But, I guess that territory was trod even before The Matrix. Science has long known that everything in life is more arrangement of atoms. I guess the Matrix represented the concept as code, and I represent it as musical filaments which are connected.

Would my visual representation of the filaments feel like too much of a knock-off to an audience, though? I worry about that.

Work begins on The Magician Upstairs

Tonight I wrote the first pages I've written on a script in almost two
years! I guess you could say that I've found a "muse." :) Or, at least
the muse free'd whatever in me was incapable of figuring out the
beginning of my idea The Magician Upstairs.

I wrote four pages:
four relatively decent pages--especially considering how long it's been
since I put fingers to keyboard and wrote ANYTHING.

It's a dark,
challenging, magical script: being, as it is, about the rising of magic
into our modern day world. I'll consider posting portions of it for my
friends to read; or, you can ask me about reading it and I'll give you
a copy as it progresses.

My new script: The Magician Upstairs

It's still in the fermenting phase but it's essentially about a young
man in our modern world who doesn't seem to have much of anything
tangible going for him, but who finds himself one day possessing magic--and all it's incumbent complications (the government wants him--for
various reasons, his friends/family are afraid of him, and employers
aren't too thrilled either). Not only that, but he has to somehow
figure out how to use it. He struggles against using it but finds that
if he doesn't use it then it overwhelms him, causing
chaos/destruction/embarrassment in his life. He has no idea why he has
this power, nor does he want it. At some point it becomes obvious why
he, in particular, received magic, and for what purpose. I just haven't
decided what that purpose will be...does he know someone who will need
saving, who's continued existence is important to the future of the
planet? or, does is he to play a pivotal role in a coming war against
an alien race? I don't know.

Obviously the idea is young yet; but it's getting there.

Review: My Super Ex-Girlfriend

Like Failure to Launch, My Super Ex-Girlfriend is a movie that takes a cool concept, plays with it, and ultimately lets it die a horrible death. Also like Failure to Launch, My Super Ex-Girlfriend is essentially a collection of loosely related skits with no cohesive soul. Some people think that high concepts like those are doomed to failure, to abuse, to be mere footnotes in film history (and probably not even that: mere statistics in some past box office report is more likely); I disagree. I think that films like Batman Begins and Spiderman 2 show that high concept premise, great cast, high profile director, and millions of dollars in the budget doesn't have to produce steaming turds. More often than not steaming turds are what we get--even with all those components--but it doesn't HAVE to be that way. Failure to Launch could've been a classic rom com, but it wasn't; same with My Super Ex-Girlfriend. My Super Ex-Girlfriend had multiple failures to it: structure of the story, failure to develop it's super-hero mythology (essentially giving the G-Girl--Uma Thurman's character--whatever powers are convenient to the scene and an arch-nemesis who has no powers at all, and is apparently not really all that villainous), and in the end it abandons even the remaining tatters of its soul. Just another movie I'd like to remake someday, and do it right. It felt like it wanted to be about how every guy might think they'd want a super-hero girlfriend, but how in reality they're still just people too...but with much more capacity to do damage when they get jealous, possessive, etc. And how, ultimately, we all just want that special someone who brings sunshine into our day, even if they're just a normal, average human being like us. It failed, among many other reasons, because it focused far too much on all the supposedly funny (but really more sad and pathetic) things that G-Girl does to her ex-boyfriend after he breaks up with her. After a while I started getting tired of all the random evilness this supposedly good character was doing to get even with her ex-boyfriend. I guess there's so much inherently wrong with the film that I can't even pin down where to start. Maybe if I get my hands on the script it'll be more apparent. *sigh* Another one bites the dust.

The Forest For The Trees

I've begun reading a book entitled The Forest for the Trees. It's written by a big-time editor turned agent, and directed at writers. But this blog as about SCREENwriting, you say? That's true, but the book applies to all manner of writing. One portion of the book early on discusses the importance of form. The author is convinced from her extensive experience that all writers have a particular form--or, at most, two--which they are skilled at, which they can truly excel with. She also believes that writers only have talent in one or two genres. She does acknowledge that there are the occasional writers who seem to be able to do everything well, but suggests that they are exceedingly rare. Both of those ideas caught my attention because I've been struggling with related questions for a while. Is it possible that screenplays aren't my format? Anything is possible. She suggests that the way to determine what your forms and genres are is to consider what you've ever written, what you love to read, what you write about in your journal/blogs/emails, etc. Be brutally, and utterly, honest with yourself. If you realize that you love reading and writing about nature then perhaps your form and genre are nature essays. DO NOT concern yourself with what is currently selling and "hot." That's her advice, not mine, though it makes loads of sense to me. The reality is that if you're meant to write nature essays then you'll write them far better than you'd be able to do a novel. The author points out relevant examples of books recently released who would've never seen the light of day if their authors hadn't ignored current trends. Books like How the Irish Saved Civilization, and Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, don't seem like obvious best-seller material. Anyway, it's a helpful book and entertaining read.

Or, I'll write something else...

One responder to my most recent post suggested that I just let loose with my Stealing Eve idea. They suggested that my own pure approach would make rough similarities moot. I've decided that I agree. The truth is probably that there are thousands upon thousands--probably millions--of scripts in Hollywood, which, if we as screenwriters were aware, we might find that many of our "original" ideas are not as original as they seem at first blush. The truth is that many ideas have already been done--produced--in one form or another, and still many others have been written. Let us not worry about treading on familiar ground, such worry would only paralyze our capacity to write. Instead, let us craft the best version of our every tale, unleash it into the wilds, and hope for the best. If nothing else they'll make excellent writing samples. I hear that rewrite work pays uber-bucks (moolah, greenbacks, etc.).

More relevent to this posts title, I had breakfast with a good (and brilliant) friend of mine the day before. We hashed over ideas--his own and mine--and came up with some stuff I'm anxious to begin on. I'd forgotten about my idea for a delicious romantic comedy: one which focuses upon the challenge of finding happiness, true love, and the perfect anti-depressant. I call it Knowing Abby. Charming and intriguing. There were a couple other ideas discussed, but I don't recall the specifics without my notes. The only problem with my Knowing Abby idea is that I have a strong emotional theme--which, I guess, is good...especially for a romance--but no structure yet. The emotional core/meaning of things is what I'm really good at, or at least it's what comes easiest.

How to decide which idea to work on

It's a real bitch, figuring out which idea I want to write next. It's been two years (approximately) since my last script, and high time I put pen to paper again (metaphorically; I actually prefer to do most of my "writing" on a computer). But, now, having decided I'm ready to write again, how do I decide what to invest the pain and anguish (as well as joy) of writing in? This is the age old quandary of the writer: it's hard to write (and most writers hate writing, but love having written), and then when we decide to we're faced with difficult questions of what, who, and how.

Like most writers, I have LOTS of ideas running around in my head percolating. Also like most writers, I have a hard time separating the wheat from the chaff--the ideas that work, or are ready to be taken seriously, from those that aren't ready for primetime.

I have my horror/action film, Demon Run, that I could write...or, I could figure out a solution to my problem with Stealing Eve (the problem is that there's already been a movie made which seems like a ripoff of my concept--Extreme Dating, if you most know)...or, I could go back to my scifi/action flick...which, incidentally, I don't recall ever coming up with a title I liked (I think the one I actually liked was "Ordinary War," but which sounded flat and boring to everyone else). Or, I could write my soap opera style love story (Love Affair)...or, I could write Pirate Island...or, I could write The Wall Around Forever...or, I could write Beautiful Faces (which, again, was a title I was never completely pleased with).

The problem is that my life right now is probably most supportive of a serious story--as I'm currently devouring philosophy books and thinking deep thoughts; but, I have a natural inclination to comedy, and light-heartedness. What am I to do? Part of me really wants to write Hero Business...but that's my buddy Eric's idea, and I don't believe in screwing over my friends--even if it is true that he may not ever get around to writing it himself. Hmmm...

Man, what really pisses me off is the Stealing Eve scenario...that someone else would either steal my idea, or have the same damn idea themselves. I LOVE that idea, and I really want to do it my way. However, how do I do the idea without making it seem like I'm rehashing an idea that someone else ruined? I mean, I haven't seen Extreme Dating, but the preview makes it appear very...passe; very blah. But, they steal the idea of the whole kidnapping as a route to love. True, Extreme Dating appears to have been released direct-to-DVD, so it's not like it made much of a splash...so maybe that means there's still room for my idea. But, that could also work against my idea. Potential buyers could think that the fact that Extreme Dating was commercially a failure means that any movie with similar subject matter will be a failure.

There WAS another version of Stealing Eve that I batted around which was very different from my more cute/fun idea which got ripped off. In that other idea my protagonist falls for a foreign girl while on vacation with his family (or friends). They continue to write each other (and chat or whatever) even after they part, until one day he gets a dear john letter. Not one to be put off, he tries to find out what's going on. What he finds gives him the impression that her family is trying to end their relationship for strategic purposes...kinda a mob family decides what is best for their daughter idea. So, he sets out on a journey to find her and bring her back. There was another idea I had which had a similar theme--which I haven't decided if I like better--but a different title: The Legend of Red River (or something to that effect). But, see, ultimately it's the cute/fun aspects of Stealing Eve that I'm so in love with. The rest of my ideas or very dark, serious, thoughtful movies...and I really want to do something which makes me happy to write.

I guess that's what's most important to me right now; which means that I either fix my Stealing Eve idea, or think of another cute/fun idea.

I have a REAL blog too

It's not this one. Or it wasn't intended to be this one, but creating this one seems like the best decision after my REAL blog caught an infection. It picked up the disease me-itis. My REAL blog--the one I started intending to use for reflecting on screenwriting/consulting/etc.--has become more like a psuedo journal. It contains in it's hallowed pages, the stuff of my life which I consider reasonably suitable for public consumption. I maintain a REAL journal (on Writely.com) for all the actually private stuff. If you wanna see My Life blog, you can find it on my website: blog.abeburnett.com. Have fun over there; don't break anything!

That said, THIS blog will proceed to be the place where I record my pursuit of creative satisfaction as a writer, screenwriter, story analyst (reader), and script consultant. If you stick around long enough you'll probably even see me eventually go on to direct and produce (though that's waaaay out on the horizon). Aim for the stars and you'll at least make it to the moon.