Writing a single sentence of dialogue for Fergus MacPhellimey is almost as exhausting as eight hours at work. I wonder if anyone would notice if I decided to write him as a taciturn and ineloquent American.
Five uses of the word "smart"! That's pretty dang smart!
The somewhat bad news is that we didn't hear today whether Trogs won the WILDsound competition—judging has been pushed back to April. The absolutely astonishing news is that we got some feedback from the judges—and it was better than I ever could have dreamed. Not only did they get what we were trying to do—with the characters, the setting, and the overall atmosphere—but they liked what we were trying to do. They truly, genuinely liked it. This is a complete stranger with every motivation to critique us into the dirt, but the best they could do was point out a few spelling mistakes and suggest one extra stage direction. Here is their feedback in its entirety, and I swear it was written by an impartial judge and not, as it may initially appear, by my mom:
The script is written well, there's definite structure and the overall execution of the piece is a success. It's clear that the writer has taken time to develop and get to know all the characters involved in the story. The story begins with a clear and intriguing introduction to the main character, David Kenyon/Daniel Almond. Just the right amount of information is given, which allows the audience to get a feel of whom and what is involved in the storyline. The audience get to see Kenyon mess up while on the job, they find out what his job is, and they are introduced to his future work-place, Trogs1. The story is told at a very good pace and the writer knows exactly what information to share with the audience. There is great attention to detail in this script, which is the key to carrying the story through.
Trogs instantly becomes appealing once Kenyon/Almond first sets foot on the building. The company's front—is that it repairs typewriters. The place is full of all types of typewriters, this adds charm to the setting and the fact that Longshanks, the boss, actually does fix them is an extra plus. Also the idea that the shooting range was previously a sex-dungeon2 certainly makes Trogs a more colourful place indeed. These subtle details are so important because Trogs has now already become a creative and original piece. The next thing that benefits Trogs are the characters involved in the piece. All the characters in the show stand out distinctly and entail they're3 own individual niche. They also all carry their own baggage and skeletons, which have been smartly set up to unravel in future shows.
Kenyon/Almond is a smart, strong, confident, proud person but also sincere and caring. His disgust for Lenny, the paedophile, is one of the smart tools used to build Kenyon/Almond's character. Longhorn4 is the boss who would sacrifice one of his agents to get the job done. He holds his power by holding all the secrets to his agents. Johnston[e] is a no good, confidante of Longshanks. He doesn't care about anybody but himself. He is Longshanks lackey but he is unaware of how disposable he is to Longshanks5. Pierce is a clear leader but is drawn back by Longshanks. If he didn't have information about her mishaps then she could easily overthrow Longshanks. It is clear that she was never responsible for any mishaps—she was merely at the wrong place at the wrong time. Gunn is sincere, good at his job, but doesn't have patience for idiots like Johnstone and seems to have the tendency to express his frustration physically. Jax is the softest one, even though her exterior seems tough. She is a team player and needs trust in others to work together6. Lenny, who is one of the "irregulars" is a great character with a loathing disease7. His personality is ambiguous, which will mess with the audience's affection towards him.
This episode's plot is well-structured, interesting, and plays with smart tactics and characters. Ashevin8 and Beale are complete and convincing in their roles. The pace is good, the build up great, and the all and all interaction works like a charm. The dialogue is on the nose, fast, gives personality and emotion. A sample of dialogue from the script has been pasted below. The dialogue continues for a couple of minutes and all of it is great. This is just a small piece from that dialogue but enough to show the writer's knack for putting together smart, fast-paced, and attention grabbing dialogue. This dialogue is between Almond/Wambaugh and Beale p 339:
EXT. 18TH ST NW—MOMENTS LATER
Beale and Almond exit the car and walk into a Khmer restaurant called "Amok Time"10. They sit down at a table.
BEALE
This is all pretty dramatic, dude.
ALMOND
So is dying young. If you eat fish, try the amok trei11; it's all sustainably caught here. Otherwise, order the bok lahong without fish paste, it's vegan.
BEALE
The hell do I care about fish? They only catch the dumb ones anyway, right? I'm not some bleeding heart like the other two. Nice job on Jason, by the way. I can't believe I never thought of doing that.
ALMOND
People in this game either have bleeding hearts or no hearts at all. At least with the bleeding hearts you know where you stand.
BEALE
Yeah, and which one are you?
ALMOND
My heart bled to death a long time ago.
Another asset of the script is its ability to execute unpredictable and surprising actions. A few examples of these incidents are when Almond hits Johnstone at the beginning, when Pierce shoots Almond when he crosses the line, and when Gunn head butts Johnstone12. These actions are great and work like a charm to the audience's suspense factor.
The first episode is intriguing, original, and leaves the audience wanting more.
The last scene might need a bit more of a build up. It's not clear that Ashevin has noticed Ornyr'f tha13. It is described in the script—that it isn't hidden well under his jacket—but it has failed to mention Ashevin looking over and noticing it. Just a minor detail but pretty important once it's brought to the screen. There are also some spelling mistakes that need attention, for example mannekins = mannequins, blond = blonde, and curtsey = curtsy. Trogs possesses quality entertainment, intelligence, dark humour and has the potential to go far.
Oh. Sweet. Mercy. Every time we get a piece of news about Trogs, it's the best thing I've heard in my entire writing career. Granted, my entire writing career before Trogs wasn't exactly a constant flood of triumphs or anything, but still.
Notes:
Well, really the name of the group is "the Trogs", and the name of the workplace is "Longshanks & Partner Typewriter Repair". But the reviewer uses "Trogs" to refer to both.
There's a logic there, honestly.
And they critiqued my spelling? Pssh. Whevs, dudes.
They seem to have confused "Andrew Longshanks" with "Foghorn Leghorn".
This line makes me incredibly happy. If I could have written in one sentence what I wanted Johnstone to convey, it would have been this one.
This bit fascinates me—I hadn't actually thought of Jax along quite those lines, but it's a good analysis, and one that will probably affect how I see her from here on.
Loathsome, I think—though his loathing for his disease is crucial to the character.
Arshavin. It's kind of funny how they clearly read the script in great detail, yet managed to get all the names wrong.
In this scene, Almond is undercover as a legendary tree spiker named John Wambaugh, and is talking to a rabid young sociopath named Kevin Beale, who has fallen in with a group of would-be ecoterrorists.
So! Flipping! Good! Man, I wish there was a Khmer restaurant anywhere around here. (I double-plus wish it were called "Amok Time".)
One of my favorite things in this review is that it compliements both things I wrote that Dad was never sure about and things Dad wrote that I was never sure about. I would never have written any of those scenes on my own, and the script would have suffered for it. Dad's instincts told him the story needed those "short, sharp shocks", and his instincts were totally right.
Just in case any of you wanted to avoid spoilers before it hit the screen...
"We are all, in some way or another, going to Reseda some day to die."
So, more good news: Trogs is continuing to get attention. It's posted on InkTip, and this morning someone downloaded the script. All I'm going to say is that they are a writer and production associate working for a production company whose founder has a very long career working as both a director and an executive producer on Shows You Have Heard Of.
The way InkTip works is by giving production execs a huge pool of loglines and synopses to wade through, without any actual contact with writers. It looks like a couple people working for said production company (among others) have seen our logline since October, and evidently someone was tasked to take a look at it and see if it had any legs. It's more or less the equivalent of a literary agent asking for a full, in other words. Does it mean anything? Yes, but not a huge amount. If we hear from said production company a couple weeks from now, that means something. Until then, it's just something else to be neurotic about. (Not that I'm complaining!)
I hate the feeling I get when I read Fear Sweeney these days. Every word seems like it was written by someone who isn't nearly as clever as he thinks he is. It's supposed to be my magnum opus, and I can't read a paragraph without wincing. Most of that is probably me, my own personal feelings about this novel I've poured so much into over the years. No matter how many times I rewrite it, I can't get away from the baggage that every word in the manuscript carries along with it.
What if I try writing it again? Not rewriting it. Writing it again. No referencing earlier drafts, just a blank screen and a story to tell. Same basic plot, most of the same characters—but move it out of 2002, which is a year that gets harder and harder to write about with each passing year—otherwise it'll be categorized as historical fiction by the time I finish writing it. Make the characters my age. Put them in neighborhoods I actually hang out in. Rethink everything, and everything about everything.
Burn it all down. Build it back up. How else can I work on a novel I can't even read anymore?
Trogs is the first project my father and I have collaborated on. It's a drama series about six American intelligence agents who have been blackmailed into working for a clandestine organization that specializes in handling threats too delicate for the official intelligence agencies. It's a genre I've never really played with before, but the idea surprised me with how strong a foundation it was. I think the pilot episode is probably one of the best pieces of writing my name has ever been attached to.
Apparently, I am not alone in this belief. Yesterday, the finalists for the WILDSound Screenplay Contest were announced; Trogs was one of five original pilot scripts selected. There were over 200 entries and 15 finalists (5 pilots and 10 spec scripts for existing shows), so it would seem that, if Sturgeon's Law is anything to go by, Trogs is not crud.
On February 1st, they'll pick one of those five pilot scripts for a staged reading, and I must admit I'm hopeful that Trogs is that one in five. But whether we win or don't, this gives us something huge to boast about when we shop Trogs around. (And this is only the first contest we've gotten results from; we're also in a larger one right now and will continue submitting even more fervently after this.) More important, it gives us that all-important capital-letter Validation that all artists would shoot their mother in the leg for. I've always felt like this show was a good one; right now I'm thinking it's a saleable one. And that's both terrifying and electrifying.
The closest I've ever come to this was three years ago, when I was told that Fear Sweeney was good but not good enough. I still haven't managed to take FS up to the level I think the story deserves, but while I was never really sure that FS was ready, I'm convinced that the pilot episode of Trogs is as good as two human beings can make it. If we were to get an "I don't think it's ready" response from someone now, my reaction would not be to take it back and work on it for another few years, it would be to send it to someone else, because this is ready for the big time. This result only validates that for me.
This collaborative work is amazing. It's opening both of us up to whole new realms of writing. Dad's getting exposed to my whole world-building school of thought, which is something he's never seen before. Meanwhile he's forcing me to think about pacing and action in a way that I've long been happy to ignore—and he's giving me external deadlines, which I need more desperately than I could ever have admitted to myself. And the final result is that Trogs really is 50% my father's and 50% mine—for the most part, when I read it I can't tell where his writing ends and mine begins. (The WILDSounds page currently has it under his name only, but we're correcting that as we respond to a little mini-interview they asked us to do.) Right now we're just starting to think about two more collaborations, one of his ideas (about a copper from the East End with a very complicated personal life) and one of mine (about a reclusive indie rocker who reluctantly opens up his life to a freelance journalist). If you know a fellow writer who loves you enough to let you rewrite all their best scenes (and vice versa), I strongly, strongly, strongly suggest you give collaboration a try.
