My Scripted Life

YOU: Want to go get a coffee? ME: I think you spelled Tequila wrong

As most of you know I have been busy turning my unpublished novel, The Whispering Gentlemen into my unpublished screenplay, The Whispering Gentlemen.

I had some serious nibbles when I sent out the query letters for the novel. Several reputable publishers and agents requested the full manuscript and they were INTERESTED but ultimately declined, suggesting I do more to up my social media presence which, they said, is just as important as the novel.

So I started this blog and it’s working I think. I look at the analytics occasionally or sometimes obsessively and it’s a good count which is something I haven’t said in a while

I will meet my August 3 deadline with the script, which I will send August 5, the closing date of Netflix Canada’s submission window. And I gotta tell you. I’m really happy with it. Like. Seriously. Folks. It’s a great fucking story, it really is, and rewriting it has allowed me to restructure some parts that didn’t sit right and now they’re finally where they belong. Making these changes to the novel form seemed monumental but it’s been a cinch to accomplish during the transition to script. Like a cinch.

I finished the first draft yesterday. Tightening it today. Rinse and repeat

I’ve been at it non-stop. I think I have the opposite of ADD because I can’t do ANYTHING else. I have ASD (surplus) which is great in its own way but also debilitating. Just ask my neighbours who are peering through the weeds. Also my local patio is in serious decline and the corner LCBO is considering relocation.

DAISY: How ‘bout a walk? ME: *hands Daisy poo bag, keeps typing*

Also when I’m in the thick of things, I forget that food is even a thing, which is hard to believe I know considering I single-handedly kept the restaurants around here above water this past year.

EXT. - Street - Day
Uber eats guy drives by, moons my house

ME: So I though I’d check in, you know, write a little blog.

YOU: And?

ME: Thought I’d see if any of you might want to beta read the script for me. It’s a dastardly little thriller, but a breezy read.

YOU: Turn-around?

ME: I’d get it to you Friday and want it back in a week. I know. But once you get the hang of reading a script, it’s quick and easy. I just want to find out if there are any bits that don’t make sense or jarring bits or things that don’t jive, you know? Nothing in-depth (unless you are so inclined). Just quick comments like the bit on page 23 is confusing. You can contact me here if this is something you might want to do. Or use the contact button at the bottom or mention it in comments because that link seems to go to outlook which I haven’t used in decades.

YOU: Synopsis?

ME: A man in his 50s returns to the house in which he grew up in order to fulfil a promise he made to five friends when they were all teenagers. He promised to write their story. He promised to witness and then write a about a deadly game they planned out during the summer of 1973, and eventually played at summer’s end. But nothing went as planned. Eddy has been living with the tragic results all these years, and now he is going back. “Go,” his wife said. “Write it down. It might save you.” So he drives back to the coast, back to the strange old house in New Brunswick, and starts writing. But again, nothing goes as planned.

YOU: Oooooooh.