Friday, May 12, 2006
Almost Full Moon
Rainy and warm
Major rainstorms and flooding predicted all day, so I’m just going to sit tight.
Today’s Circadian Poem: “Mother Sister” by Brenda Braene.
Did a lot of business-y stuff yesterday, and didn’t get to the fiction until 3 pm. Did a bit of work on Real – the section in the Tuillieries wasn’t as complicated as I thought (and I managed to work in the round pool with the little wooden boats). Sam’s in the hospital now, Sonia’s been arrested for giving him an overdose of a date-rape drug (yes, even though it’s usually the other way around, who’s trying to dope up whom, there’s a reason here – don’t worry, I did my research), Jim was fired for being an ass and Gavin hired to replace him, and I’m about to shift them all down to Marseilles.
The network didn’t run a single promotional spot for tonight’s episode – I’m pretty sure it’s over for us. I’d expected it, but grew hopeful when I was on set last week, because they put so much care and attention into the reshoots and the finale. I haven’t read the trades yet this morning (I overslept), so I don’t know if anything’s yet been announced.
Oh, well. In some ways, it makes the upcoming decisions easier.
Couldn’t work in long stretches because my right eye is bothering me. Not sure if it’s eye strain or what, but I can only work for short spurts, either writing or reading, and then I have to rest.
Managed to excavate part of my desk, which is helpful. I rather dread what’s stacked up on the other side. I hope it’s not folders full of missed opportunity.
Watched the television episode last night to see the actor my colleague wants us to work with on a project. The show’s been running for years, and I have no emotional investment in the characters so it was hard to catch up. I found the show very PC, and I felt the particular actor I was watching had been dropped in to appeal to a demographic instead of being a well-rounded character. Also, in this episode, he was mostly re-active instead of active, so I don’t have a good sense of what he can do. I’m fine with the possibility of working together – I just didn’t see anything in that episode that made me particularly excited, one way or the other. Besides, until there are contracts and money on the table, it’s all a hypothesis.
Oh, and the people I had that silly talk with on “the coast” last weekend called the actor they’d claimed was involved but wasn’t, to tell him I was now involved. Of course, he immediately called me, and we had a chat about how neither one of us is confirmed, and the more they pull this kind of crap, the higher our prices go.
NBC fired a producer, claiming the producer’d plagiarized a phrase from The West Wing and used it in the Kentucky Derby profile of Michael Matz. The phrase is an innocuous statement and repetition of a sentence that could be applied to dozens of situations and has probably been said over a million times in daily conversation. Now, people are getting out of whack with the whole plagiarism thing. There are words and phrases used in daily conversation. They are repeated by hundreds, sometimes thousands or millions of people. You can’t make up something entirely new all the time. It’s one thing to lift unique phrases and entire paragraphs; it’s quite another to use a regular arrangement of words that happens in normal conversation. I mean, come on, what was it we were taught in our writing classes? There are only 17 plots and you have to keep finding ways to make them fresh?
Some of the “writing clothes” I ordered for summer arrived. (I am not someone who can write in my pajamas – I tend to wear comfortable, but nice-looking clothes to write in – in case I need to dash out for something quickly, I don’t need to change, but, at the same time, I’m comfortable). All three pairs of capris are great. The shirt doesn’t feel good and doesn’t fit properly. The color’s great, but that’s it. It’s not worth it to me to alter it, so I’m going to send it back and cancel the ones on backorder.
Shirt-wise, I should just buy the cotton I want and make my own. Shirts are a piece of cake, and with just a bit of tailoring, will be perfect. The question is, will I actually ever get around to it, or will it just sit in a bin all summer, waiting? I don’t have an answer for that.
So I’d better get Sam out of the hospital and on the way to Marseilles.