I wrote this in high school, and even had it performed a couple times. Since then I've re-written it, scrapped the re-written version completely, then have recently re-re-written it. And yet... I read through it, and I get mixed feelings. This play, to me, is like having an ugly baby. I love my baby, I know my baby intimately. And yet I know I'm too close to see its flaws. I know it has flaws, but I don't know how to fix them.
For some reason I began reading over it today (procrastinating on other things), and I think I've finally found myself bored with it. I'm tired of trying to improve it. It's good, but just not good enough. I'm trying to develop a new story to write, which is going okay, but I'd really like to just put "Dragonshire" to rest first. But I don't know if I can... it's not what I want it to be. And yet I don't know what's missing. It's mostly just fun characters. The story is pretty straightforward, but it's got quite a few "filler" scenes that I wish I knew how to improve. And then... oh, the over-explanation of things... how do you create a new world without over-explaining everything?
I'm sure there are plenty of artists of all kinds who get what I'm talking about. Do you have any "ugly babies?" If so, how do you deal with them?
Hi Vic,
ReplyDeleteIt's Brett. This: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_mdGcb84wAs, is my ugly baby, "Disarray." Last summer some friends and I decided to attempt the 48 hour film project, and succeeded in producing the film in 48 hours. We were assigned science fiction as our genre, and as a fan of sf, I thought this would be great. Some early delays set the team behind, and a friend who's musically very talented but lacks ability in visual storytelling took control of the story and wrote the script. As the project progressed, I ended up as "producer." The main thing that I did was coordinate and make sure that we finished. That meant directing, running camera a time or two, doing makeup, and whatever else was necessary to finish. Because I had a contributed to the writing process and was the director, I initially felt very connected to the film: my baby. The first time we watched it with friends, the overall feeling was that it was pretty good, especially considering the limitations. It wasn't until the film aired as part of the 48 hour film festival that I realized the baby was ugly. We sat in through 7 minutes of silence as our film played in the theater. No one laughed. No one made a sound. Once the film ended it got a courteous amount of applause, but clearly was not... good.
It was then that I started to see some of the flaws. A few I had directly caused: one shot that I ran camera on was completely out of focus. A few problems I had let pass: Our editor assembled the opening scene a little too clunky and I thought we needed to tighten it, but didn't say anything. Other films we've shot have had problems; but in watching this film numerous times, its problems somehow seem worse. That is especially aggravating because I wanted "Disarray" to be so much more. Initially I wanted to go back and re shoot or plug in pieces so that the film would work better. But it was clear that this wasn't an option.
The way I've dealt with my ugly baby is by externalizing the film. I've turned it into a kind of "red-headed step-child." On other films I've made sure that I have a prominent credit; for this film I had my name buried within the credits. I look at the film as more a product of all of those collaborators I had, and the flaws are just a result of trying the 48 hour project for the first time. In conversation I don't count the film as an example of what I can do. When I finally did another project, I made it my goal for that film to prove that "Disarray" was just a fluke. On the surface, I just pretend that the film isn't mine. Deep down, I'm disappointed by the final product, and I have trouble accepting it for what it is.
This summer we will be participating in the film project again, and we'll see how it goes.
BTW. I enjoy catching your blog posts, keep it up.
I have quite a similar situation to yours, Victoria. I've got a novel that I've worked on for years. I love it. It's a broken book. If I tried to fix it, it might break the magic, because I wrote it knowing it would be a broken book.
ReplyDeleteSigh. The thing for me was to write another book. Love the old projects for what they were, share them with people who would like them, and take them with me when I write the next book - because, see, every book is really the sum of the books you've written before, in a way. Plays, I'm sure, are the same.
I didn't know you were a writer, too - I'd be interested in seeing some things you've written.
@Brett, I actually liked the vid! It was a little clunky as you mentioned, but I liked the story, and the cinematography was nice! I think the reason people didn't laugh is that it's not a laugh-out-loud comedy. More than subtle, dry comedy. Like "The Royal Tenenbaums" or "Edward Scissorhands." We're always the most critical of our own work, I realize that.
ReplyDelete@Joseph, I think maybe I just need to face the fact that it'll probably never be what I wanted it to be. I really do need to move on... I like what you say about "every book is really the sum of books you written before." I agree with that, because with every piece, you grow as an artist.
I'll post a couple poems then sometime, maybe a scene from the play (one of the better scenes, that is lol). Some of my poems I've wanted to put to song for a while, but just haven't.