Driving into Council I was amazed at the local Shell gas station’s price of 2.42 per gallon of mid-grade gasoline. The same stuff in Salt Lake was 2.28. Supply and demand my ass. Tell me, how can the demand be higher in a town of just over 900 people than it is in a metro area of over a million?
Anyway, I digress.
One of the highlights of the vacation was our camping trip with a couple of friends; Rob and his wife Kim. We drove up to an area out of McCall, Goose lake road to be exact. We went above Hazard Lake, kept to the right heading towards Little French Creek towards the Hershey Point Lookout, and found a great camping spot over an area called Elk Meadows.
On the way we stopped in a little antique shop/coffee house for what I believe to be the best damn cappuccino in Central Idaho. For the life of me I can’t remember the name of the place. When I get my credit card statements back I’ll be sure and make note and mention them. Anyway, we stopped and got our cappuccino and I struck up a conversation with the proprietor. He mentioned that he’d just read in the local paper that the Fish and Game department was bragging about dumping a bunch of tiger muskies—a beast that is a cross between a northern pike and a muskellunge—into many of the backcountry lakes in an attempt to deplete the eastern brook trout population. See, the eastern brook trout is not indigenous to Idaho. Some time in the 1930’s they were planted in a few streams and took off like gangbusters. As a result they’ve practically chased out the native rainbow. Sure, in the streams like the Salmon River and Snake, you can catch rainbows like nobody’s business, but in many of the backcountry lakes the brookie is what you are most likely to catch. They are so plentiful that the limit is 25. Yes, 25 freakin’ brookies. Stop by the gas n go, grab a bunch of worms, then go to almost any high mountain lake, and you can catch a shit-load of brookies and have one hell of a fish fry.
The Fish and Game department stated in the article that they wanted to kill off most of the brookies with the tiger muskies then gill the tiger muskies out of the lakes. Then they planned on planting rainbow trout back into the lakes because that’s what anglers wanted. This was much to the chagrin of the coffee house proprietor. He, like most locals, prefers the brookies to the rainbow simply because they taste better. The Fish and Game, however, is interested in catering to the pompous catch and release crowd who live in the cities and come in from other states. They spend lots of money buying fishing licenses and then lots of gas money to drive into the mountains, commune with nature, catch a rainbow and then throw it back. This is something that to most locals is patently absurd. They sure as hell aren’t going to go traipsing about the wilds to catch a fish simply to throw it back. It’s fuckin’ goofy. And, most of the locals prefer the taste of a brookie over a rainbow.
Just mere days before we left for this camping trip my dad was reminiscing about all the brookies in those lakes and how it was such a pleasure to eat them right out of the lake; roasted on an open flame and how he hated catching rainbows because they taste like shit. I actually began to struggle with how I was going to inform him that that was all about to change.
When we got to Hazard Lake we stopped for a little break and I was amazed at how things had changed since the last time I’d been to Hazard Lake proper some three decades prior. Then it was truly a back-country lake requiring what seemed an eternity on rough road to get to. Once there you could find a secluded, shady camping spot pretty easy in and among the thick timber that surrounded the lake. The road is still a bit slow-going in spots, but now there are developed camping spots around the lake that require a fee. I’m talking paved pads and a handicapped equipped hand-crank water pump. The place had a few campers parked like a small city in the making and I saw at least two people carrying what appeared to be thousand-dollar fly rods. Also, the lake was just shy of a moonscape in that most of the trees had been burned back in—I believe—1993 when 330,000 acres went up in the Corral Complex fire. That was the one where then President Clinton dropped in via helicopter to give a pep talk to the thousands of firefighters and National Guardsmen. The fire burned until the snow fell.
We continued past Hazard Lake and towards Hershey Point, to the head waters of Little French Creek, traveling through what seemed an endless landscape of burned forest. The scope of the burn is almost incomprehensible. Intermittently among the vast acreage of carnage there would be an inexplicable patch of forest that had somehow survived the inferno; a gray, dead sea of burned landscape speckled with an occasional patch of pristine beauty. Just off the road we found just such a spot along side of a creek coming from the snowmelt in the mountains above. It appeared to be a hunting camp with an ample stock of split wood. Rob and I agreed that this place would be perfect to set up camp. Besides, everyone, with the exception of my son, had a strong hankering for a beer which could only happen once camp was set up.
Ok, I’m lying. The beer didn’t wait until after camp was set up. By the time we got there, I’d already put away three. New Castles if I must admit; the best damned beer God ever created.
After we set up camp and put back a few more beers we decided to load up in the truck and do some exploring to see how far the road might take us. The biggest impediment was the prospect of wind-fallen burned trees that had landed across the road. Since we’d managed to forget to bring the chainsaw with us, it was a concern. About two miles up the road from the camp we saw 7 wolf pups in the middle of the road. They were romping about, playing grab-ass and then stopped and gawked at our appearance. I figured them to be around 8 to 10 weeks of age and they didn’t seem overly concerned with our presence. As we got within 40 yards or so they split up; 4 going up the hill from the road, and 3 heading down the hill. Over the last ten years or so, since the reintroduction of wolves to this part of the country, they have done quite well. Better, in fact, than I think anyone had anticipated. So good in fact that they have become a bit of a nuisance to the point that there will be a hunting season on them to thin them out. Seeing 7 pups made me understand their voracious appetite for reproduction. You will very rarely, if ever, see that many coyote pups. The most I’ve ever seen are three and coyote pups have a much larger mortality rate than wolves. Think about that and than consider that coyotes are almost always shot on sight, and then realize that there are more coyotes there than there are crooked politicians and you get an idea of just how well the wolves have done since reintroduction. Ask the cattle and sheep rancher too. Especially the one who lost 30 calves to a pack just outside of Council.
Don’t get me wrong. Unlike most people in that area, I’m not of the mindset that wolves should be exterminated like they almost were over the last century. Notice I said almost. That’s because it’s a myth that the wolves were exterminated from Central Idaho. Oh, they tried to exterminate them for sure, but there have always been wolves there. Not many, but they were there. Now, after the so called reintroduction, they are rampant. Love it or hate it, the fact is that people live there now and always will until some global catastrophe or meteor or whatever occurs. It will never be like it was before humans come around. That’s the reality. Since that’s the reality, it means that there has to be some middle ground. In fact there will be middle ground no matter what some government lackey tries to do or say. I guarantee it. The thinning has already begun.
Anyway, I did rather enjoy seeing those wolf pups. The next morning when we woke up and crawled from our tents, we noticed two sets of adult wolf tracks that had paid a cautious visit to the parameters of our campsite. Something, we aren’t sure because we couldn’t verify with immediate tracks, pissed all over Rob’s tent. I can’t imagine a wolf coming in our camp to do it, but because Rob is a rancher and there is a natural hatred of wolves in him, well, hell, maybe the wolf thought to itself, I’m going to piss all over this asshole’s tent. Ok, I’m starting to sound like Shirley McLean.
Deep in the throws of our vacation. This morning Anna, Alek, and I set out on the Little Salmon River for the purpose of catching some fish. As a result we just finished eating a late lunch of trout dredged in seasoned flour and fried in butter, along with a summer salad and a glass of Pinot Grigio. All was followed up with a not too small slice of cheesecake for Anna and me, and a moderate dole of ice cream for Alek. I must say that I’m deep in a culinary bliss.
Soon we are meeting up with some friends and going on a back-country excursion. Perhaps we’ll be back by dark.
Perhaps.
Quick note: On the way through Boise we stopped and met up with Casey for a quick visit. It’s always a pleasure to meet up with fellow bloggers and chew the fat. Both Casey and I are Idaho yokels from our inception which meant that in the few short minutes that we talked we quickly hit some common ground.
Remember that invite, Casey, if you and your family are ever through Salt Lake City.
Because the Utah Department of Transportation decided to close every fucking on-ramp to I-15 South bound it took me an extra almost an hour to get home from work tonight. Keep in mind that it normally takes about a half hour. I couldn’t believe it. Of course, me being me, I had to go to their web site and let them know how I feel.
Tell me, what over-paid, under-worked, pencil-pushing, government paid, blithering idiot thought it was a good idea to close EVERY FREAKING ONRAMP TO I-15 SOUTH BOUND from I-215 to 90th south tonight? I couldn’t get home because of this idiotic mess. The only reason something like this would be warranted would be if you’re BUILDING A NEW FREAKING FREEWAY FROM SCRATCH!!!
The lack of intelligence required to do such a stupid thing makes me wonder how whoever decided to do it can even perform basic motor functions like breathing, or scratching your ass.
This is precisely why the average taxpayer rolls their eyes at government functionaries like you.
Do EVERYONE a favor. DO NOT CLOSE access to the freeway. If you feel that you must, then your plan is not good. Put that expensive education to use and think of a better plan.
And I did leave my contact information. I dare these assholes to follow up.
Keep in mind that I know the roads here so I can work my way through it. But I pity the poor asshole who was just trying to pass through on I-215 trying to connect to I-15. They would’ve come up on an on ramp that was just simply closed. No detour signs, no warning, no FUCKING NOTHING.
Who would’ve thought that finding a cake would be so damn difficult?
Friday we’re leaving for Idaho to visit family. Our son’s fifth birthday is Sunday, and my stepbrother’s birthday is, I think, Monday, so my wife wanted to pick up a couple of cakes. Sounds simple enough, right?
You’d be wrong. See, my wife, being the Euro she is, doesn’t think highly of American style bakery cakes. You know; the kind you’d by in a grocery store? She calls them, “tasteless bread covered with sugary frosting.” Her line of thinking is that if you’re going to sin, you do it with a cake that tastes heavenly.
Here in Salt Lake we’ve picked up cakes at a nifty little French bakery that are pretty damn good. I mean these things are the real deal. But the prospect of them making an 8 hour trip is sketchy, so we’re thinking, Hey, we’ll stop by a bakery in Boise on the way through and pick one up. The two and half hour drive from there shouldn’t be a problem. I put out a feeler to a vague contact in Boise and they were kind enough to suggest a French bakery in the city. Now, how damn cool is that?
Well, a phone call to said French bakery in Boise revealed they don’t make cakes.
What???
They were kind enough to suggest a place that did make cakes and I called them up. Although they are a grocery store, they supposedly have a gourmet bakery that makes cheesecakes using locally grown fruits. It looks like this place could be the ticket.
With the first draft of previously mentioned screenplay that is.
The plan was to have it finished before I go on vacation and then work on it while on vacation. My vacation doesn’t start for another 10 days and I’m vowing to NOT pick the damn thing up until then. I’ve already made a bunch of notes concerning things that I feel need to be addressed, so I won’t even make more notes. I want to just forget about the thing until I’m relaxed, kicking back, and feel compelled to reach over and pick it up and get to work.
I’ve really been burning the midnight oil with this thing and, frankly, I think this 10 day break is going to be just what my feeble, little brain needs.
I’ve got accounts at both Triggerstreet and Zoetrope. At Zoetrope I participate in the short story, novella, and screenplay parts of the website. At Triggerstreet, just the screenplay. I’ve reviewed three screenplays at Zoetrope and the only thing I can say is, ouch. Man, I haven’t read one screenplay there that doesn’t suck. I’m not talking, “sucks, but there are good aspects to it.” I’m talking sucks in every way imaginable. I’ve read a couple of novellas too and they are every bit as bad. Over on Triggerstreet I have managed to read a couple of screenplays that are pretty decent. But even so, the majority are just horrible.
Now, I’m not trying to come across as some Know it all who is a great story teller, or who has written a bunch of screenplays, but I can tell you that I do have a pretty damn good understanding of story plus I have at least a modicum of understanding concerning the screenplay form.
All this said, I must say that I absolutely love these sites because I love to read other people’s work. Even if it is like pulling teeth. The reason for this is that you can learn a lot from deconstructing a story or a screenplay. It’s gotten to the point where I can tell early on why something isn’t working. I can see it as plain as day. In fact it’s easier to see why something doesn’t work than it is to recognize why something does work. Even so, knowing why something doesn’t work is very helpful.
We own a townhome in a good area of the city. Unfortunately we have renters here as well. I know, I know, I’m offending a whole lot of renters out there, but too bad.
Anyway, over the last several months my wife and I have noticed that some people choose to set their garbage outside of the dumpster instead of putting it inside of the dumpster. Sorry, but if you too lazy and disgusting to put your damn garbage inside of the dumpster there isn’t much hope for you. Finally, fed up with this shit, I went through the garbage (you’d be surprised how many private investigators do this. I know, I used to be a private investigator) and found discarded mail of these bastards. There were culprits from three different addresses. I went home and contacted the HOA with the information and then typed up a message that said:
To those of you who live at ___, ___, and ___,
Please don’t be lazy and disgusting. Put your garbage INSIDE the dumpster.
I taped it on the side of the dumpster and predictably it was taken down after a couple of days. I put another one back up. A couple of days later it too was taken down and replaced by a lengthy note talking about ”this is a community, be nice, bla, bla, bla. There was also reference to my cowardice because I knew who the culprits were, but they didn’t know me. It was singed with a name AND address.
Well, me being me, I walked over to the address, knocked on the door, and introduced myself to the twenty-something woman that answered the door. “I’m the one who left the note on the dumpster,” I said.
Boy, this piece of trash got all defensive and tried to somehow defend her leaving her shit all over the place for her neighbors to deal with. “Five people live here and I don’t have anyplace to put the trash when the dumpster is full,” the piece of trash said.
When I informed her that normal people will hang on to their trash for a couple of days if the dumpster is full, or--God fucking forbid--they will actually walk or drive to one of the other dumpsters that are around she got really defensive. I pushed her near the edge when I added that the dumpster had been emptied a couple of days ago yet her shit still sat there. I then asked her if she rented or owned. “I rent,” she said.
“That’s what I thought,” I said and turned to walk away.
She stood there sputtering. After a few steps she managed to blurt out, “You better think before you break the law again!”
“Huh”? I asked.
She crossed her arms and stuck out her chin like she really had me in a corner. “Defamation of character.”
I let out a laugh and pointed out that since she DID leave her garbage scattered all over the ground next to the dumpster, she was indeed LAZY and DISGUSTING. I laughed all the way to my truck.
Now, back to the renting thing. Sure, there are some renters who are not disgusting people, but for the most part they suck. This one, who’s address and phone number I will post (if it’s public information) if she continues to be LAZY and DISGUSTING, seems to be especially stupid.
Anna and I had to make some changes to our vacation plans this summer which really sucks. But, that’s the way it goes.
That being said, we are planning to disappear for a week in June. I’m telling you, I need some time away from work in a bad, bad, BAD way.
I’m really burning the midnight oil in an attempt to finish the first draft of aforementioned screenplay in the hopes of taking it with me and working on it while on vacation. Why the hell would I want to do that, you may ask. Well, the place we’ll be going is the place that in my mind’s eye the story takes place and I think that it would be rather stimulating to work on a rewrite while walking through the country side and terrain in which everything occurs in the script. Plus, you never know when the muse will strike and I want to be prepared. Better to have a script and not feel the muse than to feel the muse and not have the script.
Or something like that.
Anyway, if all goes as planned, I’ll have a complete first draft on the jump-drive and my handy, dandy notebook puter. I can see it now; I can plant my ass ‘neath the shade of a huge Ponderosa Pine and type away.
Which reminds me. The Ponderosa Pine is my favorite tree. I grew up around them and they will forever represent my notion of what the Mountain West is all about. Unfortunately there aren’t too many of them around in Utah which is a bummer. In order to get my Ponderosa Pine fix I have to go back to the place I grew up in Central Idaho.
By the way, Justin and Julee (Anna’s going to kill me for talking about this). You know that thing you’ve told us about? You know, that thing that scares the shit out of you. Something you said you’d never do, but now you’re thinking you may do? Anyway, I know of a huge Ponderosa Pine on the Salmon River that worked wonders for Anna and I while on an overnight camping trip. We pitched our tent under that sucker, and what do you know… During the night a Great Horned owl roosted in the tree and managed to intrigue us with his ghostly hooting. Couple that with the full moon we were blessed with, and ... Like I said.
Anna seems to think that the thing of which I so cryptically speak of actually probably happened a few days earlier, but my overly romantic side refuses to believe her. It was the Ponderosa Pine. That particular Ponderosa Pine. With the owl and the full moon.
My comment notification seems to not be working well. Sorry about not posting comments in a timely manner. It’s odd in that the problem seems to come and go.
Lately I’ve been consuming as much screenwriting material as I possibly can between sleeping, family life, and actually writing.
If you are even thinking of writing screenplays I heartily recommend going over this site with a fine-toothed comb. The columns by Ted Elliot and Terry Rossio are worth paying good money for. On a regular basis you come across gems such as this:
A full theater is far smarter than the average studio executive.
In fact—I’ll go so far as to say, there are NO EXAMPLES of solid story-logic stories that were too difficult or demanding for the audience to understand.
The irony of most studio notes is that, in an effort to ‘simplify’ the story for the sake of the audience—so the audience will ‘get it’—the story is made nonsensical. And then no matter how smart the audience is, they will never be able to find the logic—because it isn’t there.
Almost finished with the first draft of below mentioned script. Now, lest you assume that I simply had an idea pop into my head and then pounded it out in three weeks, you couldn’t be more wrong.
I’ve been thinking about this story longer than I at first thought. I came across notes from five years ago. I was shocked, really.
One thing I realized is that many of the problems that needled me for some time didn’t get resolved until after I just sat my ass down and started tapping away. What this means is that you don’t necessarily have to have everything all figured out before you sit down and get to work. Actually working on it will provide a variety of ideas from which to choose to solve a particular problem. In fact many of the ideas will not even be apparent until you start working on it.
On a somewhat related note, I read a couple of screenplay newsgroups on a regular basis. In response to one poster I mentioned what I believe to be Hollywood’s creatively incestuous nature. What I’m talking about is the fact that, for the most part, Hollywood is not exactly a bastion of creativity. Oh, sure, some great, creative stories do come out of Hollywood, no doubt about it. But the ratio of crap to gems is pretty high. I believe much of the reason is because Hollywood is mostly interested in creative talent that resides in Hollywood. Writers living in Hollywood mingle with other writers in Hollywood. They talk, they network. By its very nature, it can’t help but be incestuous to a degree. The incestuous part can be best exemplified by the fact that you can count on that right now, at this very moment, there are probably hundreds of people sitting at their desks frantically working on the next 300 or variation thereof.
I was called to task by a real screenwriter. When I say real I’m talking about a guy who has written a ton of scripts and actually had them made in to real, honest to God movies. He’s quite well known and successful. He stated that Hollywood does not make movies for Hollywood, but rather the whole world. True, but I believe that Hollywood’s version of the whole world consists mainly of those between the ages of about 15 and 25, and whatever hit the mark in that age group last week, will almost guarantee similar coming down the pike next week.
My main point is that I believe that there is a huge market of more mature movie-goers who are interested in a great story more than a high concept, heavy on the FX, BOOM, BOOM, rollercoaster ride.
Not to say that high concept, heavy on the FX, BOOM, BOOM, rollercoaster rides don’t have a place.
My posting frequency is a good indicator of how my writing is going. If I’m posting a lot it means that I’m not getting much writing done. If my posts are few and far between, you can rest assured that it’s because I can’t find the time because all of my free time is being spent writing. I haven’t been posting very much at all. That’s a good thing.
I’m actually forcing myself to take a bit of a break from the screenplay I’ve been working on. It’s been in my dreams, most of my waking moments: driving to work, most of the time when I’m supposed to be devoting attention to my wife, etc. Anyway, I’m almost finished with the first draft. I know exactly where and how it ends, the scenes leading up to it. I figure that I’ll be finished sometime next week. I already know the gist of some of the rewriting that needs to be done, but I’m trying to avoid that for now. What I’ve been doing is making notes when I come up with a solution for a particular problem or scene. It’s everything I can do to not get ahead of myself. So, now I’m finding it necessary to force myself to take a bit of a break from it, at least a few hours. That means I won’t be talking about it …
…
…
Hey, you know, the weather seems to be very typical here for the Intermountain West. Last week it was 88 degrees (31 C for the rest of the world) which required the use of the air conditioner. Right now as I write this it’s 41 (5 C), wind blowing, and snowing.
Ok, enough of the trivial, meaningless bullshit. I’ve tried, but it just rings hollow.
Let’s see, what else can I talk about that is not related to said script?
Ah, I got it. A bitch. When in doubt, bitch about something.
Snap is the most evil atrocity to happen since Al Gore invented the World Wide Web. Nothing is more fucking annoying to the reading experience than stupid windows popping up over every damn link. Snap is particularly insidious because it’s a bell and whistle that a lot of people seem to be installing on their web sites. Usually, when I come across a site that has implemented this disgusting trinket I’ll exit it immediately and never come back. The only exception is if the site’s content is particularly good. It has to kick ass. It has to rock beyond belief. A site with Snap has to be way, way, WAY, WAY good for me to not plunge an ice pick through my skull and run away screaming. Take this site for example. Even though it implements the evil Snap, I find myself crawling back to it like a junkie picking up cocaine crumb off the floor after a two day binge and the junk’s all gone.
The evilness of Snap is summed up quite nicely here.
Snap’s preview anywhere gizmo is ruining the reading experience for millions of people. Its intrusive, obstructive and unuseful in almost every respect and use case. The fact that so many big blogs are using it, big well respected blogs, does not mean that it’s useful, it just means that they, like most bloggers, have all the self restraint of a magpie in a sparkly things factory.
That’s not to say im any better, but it is true. As a group , most bloggers are only a small step away from the flashing, rotating logos of 1997 or the neon pink backgrounds and blaring teen pop auto play bollocks of your average 17yr old MySpace user—and I include myself, though i dont use SPA, im as guilty as the next blogger of “bling envy”.
SPA is not helpful, it’s not cool, and it’s not winning you readers—It’s bling, a silly little shiny thing designed specifically to increase awareness of Snap.com—not bad thing, and certainly a shining example of how to use widgets to gain links and attention, but, come on ladies and gentleman, show a little self restraint, show a little consideration for your users.
Man, I’ve been pounding out this script like nobody’s business. I’ve been thinking about this story in various forms off and on for about three years. I’ve thought about the characters, their actions, mannerisms, interactions with each other. I’ve written several scenes down in no particular order because they’ve kept coming back to me. For the longest time I had intentions of writing this story as a prose piece, but after starting off as an experiment in script form it really began to take shape.
Now it’s off and running almost of its own volition.
Granted, when this first draft is finished it will mostly resemble a glorified story outline, but that’s what rewrites are for. My biggest difficulty now is to not get ahead of myself. I’m already thinking of ways to beef up a couple of subplots, maybe moving a scene, or thinking of scenes I’m going to scrap, scenes I want to add. There’s one particular problem that I can barely wait to get my hands on, but I’ll force myself to wait until I get this first draft finished.
