What’s your secret keyword?

As a follow-up to today’s earlier post, I find myself wondering — what wacky keyword search you are willing to cop to in public?

One of mine recently was “images tank girl.” If you know the Tank Girl comics, it makes more sense maybe, but then you need the additional information that I was looking for go-go costume ideas.

And just this morning, preparing the earlier post, I searched for “old people sex” to find the article that I remembered reading. Hmm, I thought, if I get zapped by a random lightning bolt right this instant, they’ll find me here smokin’ in front of a sex search — what a legacy.

Okay, that’s two of mine. Who’s ready to step up and share? (Encouraging smile from the management…)

What people really want

Here is a sample of the keyword searches that have brought people to my site in the month of July:

  • naked old people
    Good for you. Naked old people are beautiful too. And it turns out they are having a lot of sex, which cheers me up immensely as I contemplate my next birthday.
  • is swang a word
    Why, yes it is! Happy to help.
  • another fucking learning experience
    This person came in swearing and what did they find? Calvin and Hobbes. I think a lot of the world’s problems could possibly be solved by Calvin and Hobbes, but that’s just me.
  • did herods head turn into snakes
    I have no idea, but what a great image! There’s a story there…
  • hollywood hung list
    *Shakes head*. Size doesn’t matter, people!
  • i got a book deal
    Good for you! I hope you made some money.
  • i like being a girl
    Me too!
  • irish guy naked
    Hang on — any Irish guy? Are Irish guys different…?
  • lesbian bikini seattle hawaiian shirt
    Oh ho, now we’re getting warmer… stay tuned for more on this in later post.
  • knowing when to be quiet
    Hah, if you learn this, please teach those around you right now, okay? Especially if you are at the movies.
  • mirror neurons and sociopaths
    What’s this about? Do you suppose sociopaths have fewer mirror neurons than those of us who don’t go around eating other people’s livers with some fava beans and a nice Chianti?
  • more nude
    Okay, isn’t this like “a little pregnant”? Can a person actually be more nude?
  • scared of people
    I am so truly sorry. Here’s a hug. Being scared of people is hard. I hope you find some strategies.
  • want to be naked but scared
    A hug for you too. Hang in there, it gets better, I swear.
  • universie plumbing
    And this month’s WTF award goes to…
  • why do women like walking in mud with high heels on
    I swear I am not making this up. Are there women who like this? Am I missing out on something important about being a girl?

And there you have it.

You’re just sort of searching for this “thing” and sometimes you get it and sometimes you don’t. — John Abercrombie

Isn’t that the truth?

Daily life

For those who are interested in the Big Life of the Writer, here is my day today:

  • Tidy the house
  • Finish the laundry
  • Drop off the dry cleaning
  • Shop for groceries
  • Put gas in the car and air in the tires
  • Pay bills (oooh, my favorite part, because it reminds me that cash flow for writers can sometimes really suck!)
  • Clean up my office
  • And any other fun chores that come along!

And so the internets will just have to get along without me for the day. Be well, be happy. And if you need more, go listen to the Reality Break interview, in which I sincerely hope I sound more interesting than this post.

Reality Break podcast interview

Head on over to Reality Break and listen to my 2007 interview with my good friend Dave Slusher. Our lengthy (47 minute) conversation ranges from the power of performance to competence in characters to the origins of the story Dangerous Space… I enjoyed doing it, and I hope you’ll enjoy hearing it.

I talk in the interview about how special it was for me to put together the collection and have the chance to consider years of work in a contained way. It turns out the same thing is true for me with this interview. Dave gave me the chance to talk about things I’ve been thinking about for a while, and to string together a number of different ideas and perspectives about my work into a single conversation. Very fun for me, and illuminating in ways I didn’t expect. Kind of like writing that way (grin).

Dave, thanks so much for the chance to be part of Reality Break. It was a genuine pleasure.

Do it like a pro

John August is a screenwriter (Go, Corpse Bride, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, The Nines and many more) and director (The Nines). (And he’s currently working on the Dark Shadows screenplay for Johnny Depp, an actor whom I would love to write for with pretty much every fiber of my being).

The tag line of John August’s blog is “a ton of useful information about screenwriting,” and he’s not kidding. If you’re interested in learning about screenwriting and the movie business, there are more than 900 articles on his site, as well as downloadable film and television treatments and scripts.

(Looks directly through the internet at John August). John, it’s really generous of you, and I’ve learned a lot. Thanks very much. (Internet camera off).

Here’s a speech that August gave in 2006, and I wish I’d seen it before I taught Clarion West last year: I would have made it required reading. I think every aspiring writer (and every established writer, every artist, oh-gosh-everyone who works for a living) ought to absorb it at the cellular level.

(The text is long, but not as long as it looks — it comes with 55 comments attached.)

The speech begins with a Hollywood story and then moves into a basic nuts-and-bolts primer of how to behave like a grownup in the working world. Maybe you already know how to do that. But if you are an aspiring writer or screenwriter — even if you are already a grownup in the workday ways — the meat of the matter comes at Thesis #3 and just gets better from there.

I’m adding this piece to my personal cupboard of Advice to Aspiring Writers, along with the talent of the room, taking criticism, and not being an asshole.

And sometime soon, I’ll be answering a talk to me question about my experience of screenwriting so far — but let me note here that I’m glad that I’ve played it like a pro even through the hard times. I can see clearly how much difference it’s made in the producers sticking with me through my learning curve.

Secrets

Another in the occasional Being Human series of posts.

When I was a little kid, secrets were friendship currency. “Having a secret” actually usually meant that you had shared something with someone that was so interesting that everyone else would want to know it too, if only… But it was our secret. That’s how we proved we were friends. And it’s how we proved… what? That we were real. That we had Something Going On even if we were only seven. Of course I couldn’t articulate it that way then, but it’s clear to me that the enculturation of child Eskridge was already in full swing. I was already absorbing the need to be part of a community, and already feeling the pressure to differentiate myself in positive ways. What a hideous tension to put upon children — be different and be part of the group: fail at either and find the weight of adult concern or adult annoyance or adult irritation falling on you from a great height.

When I was an older kid, I learned that most real secrets are not friendship badges. Most secrets are too big, too frightening, too painful, too awful to reveal because we know that we might be severed from our group. We’ll be different in all the wrong ways. Secrets are like bags of pus in a person’s chest or stomach. They burn, or they are cold cold cold, or they ooze through us like slime. But they are not for sharing.

And so I was gobsmacked years ago to stumble across PostSecret. People mail in their secrets anonymously on postcards, and Frank Warren posts a new set every week. There’s a discussion forum, a community of people who support each other in revealing themselves. He also has a PostSecret page on Myspace where he posts additional secrets.

Yes, it’s a business as well as a service. There are books, there are speaking engagements. Good. It means he’ll be able to do it a lot longer, and give more people the chance to experience the profound act of letting go of a secret. I’ve been struggling here to describe that feeling, and it’s just… well, right now I’m not finding the right words. Maybe you can tell me what it’s like, this revelation of self that is desperate and healing and frightening and sometimes just makes things worse, except maybe it’s worse in a better way because now we can be known. We can be seen. And we find that even if a particular relationship or community or desire or goal doesn’t survive — that we do. We survive.

Sometimes when we think we are keeping a secret, that secret is actually keeping us. –Frank Warren, founder of Post Secret.

But the important word there is sometimes.

One of the most telling discussions on the PostSecret forums has to do with a secret sent in ages ago: If you’re waiting for a sign, this is it. Do it. It will be amazing. Pretty powerful stuff that goes right to one of the deep places of being human — wanting to be “sure” that our risks will pay off, that we are doing the “right thing.” Wanting a sign from the universe. And some PostSecret readers took this as their sign, as their impetus to take whatever step they’d been considering.

But as the ensuing discussion showed, the universe isn’t always talking to us, you know? Some people “did it,” whatever it was, took their risk, and were happy they did. Some were bruised and blinking but still kind of happy, or at least thought they were better off. And some people were smushed like a bug by whatever they did, left bitter and angry and full of regret. Because sometimes the things we want in secret, the things we fear, or yearn for, our secret curiosities and desires and dreams, are not good for us or other people. Sometimes the secrets keep us safe.

How do we know the difference? I don’t know. I’m still learning.

And I read PostSecret every Sunday to see what chances other people are taking, to witness their courage or desperation or sadness or relief. These secrets, they’re like little stories told in fragments. As readers, we’re coming in at the middle: we can infer the beginning, and we’ll probably never know the end. But still, for that moment we’re connected. I don’t know, maybe it’s like those days in the schoolyard — we shared it and now it’s our secret. Or maybe it’s that the internet shared it and found that it is many people’s secret, and so it loses some of its iron-jawed grasp on each of us. I don’t know. But it amazes me that human beings will find ways to be connected. If we can’t find them, we make them. And then we use them to show each other ourselves.

Warriors

Thank you, Admiral Jamie Barnett. (And thanks to my mum for the link).

No ranting today (readers breathe sigh of relief…). Just bemusement and a bit of sadness that we still all have to have these conversations.

I was really struck by the phrase “gay and lesbian warriors.” Warrior is such a powerful word, a powerful thing to be. We idealize warriors in our culture, and they also frighten us. Warriors can be scary people. But we make so many movies about them — tell so many stories that explore the experience of the warrior — because when it comes right down to it, we want the most frightening, brutally skilled, strong, strategic people on our side. We want them in the woods when the bear opens its frightening mouth. We want them in the alley when the gun comes out of the darkness. We want them on fields of battle half a world away.

And these days we also need them to be articulate, compassionate, culturally aware, self-controlled. It’s a lot to ask. Seems like we’d want all the folks we can get who are willing and able to take it on.

Here’s a brief report on the hearing itself.

Open mic at Enter the Octopus

Litblogger extraordinaire Matt Staggs at Enter the Octopus has thrown his site open to writers and is currently orchestrating a sort of ecstatic whirlwind of posts, links, musings, you name it… the sort of thing that you can just keep checking in on and find something new and maybe unexpected. It’s a lovely, generous idea and a lot of writers are jumping into the pool over there.

Go check it out, it’s a lot of fun. And be sure to look for this entry from Nicola!

Ranty rant rant about publishing

Over on Ask Nicola there’s a discussion about some of the cold hard economic truths about being a fiction writer. I wandered over and entered the discussion with two comments (so far): one fairly brief, and one blog-post-sized arm-waving rant. Here’s a teaser:

But they wants to be writers, precious, they do, and they believe that the only way to be a real writer is that someone should give them a guaranteed living wage before anyone even knows if they can shift the freight or not.
 
Me, I think the way to be a real writer is to really write and be really read by real readers. Call me a radical…
 
— from a discussion on Ask Nicola

I was in a place. But apart from the possible entertainment value, I think you’ll find that Nicola’s post has provoked an interesting discussion, with some down-home truths about the state of being a writer these days. If you’re interested in a little peek behind the curtain, head over there and read the post and discussion. And join in if you’re inclined, either here or there.

One thing I have long wished is that more writers, editors, marketers, publicists and publishers would be willing to share details about advances, marketing investments, how print runs are determined, what constitutes a good versus bad return from the publisher’s perspective. Et cetera. Most writers (the part of the industry I know best) are unwilling to share details about money because… well, because talking about “salary” in American culture is rude, or something.

One of the most interesting experiences I had teaching Clarion West last year was spending a couple of hours one evening talking with students about my take on publishing, including the breakdown of how the money works and the general economics of being a writer. I think it was depressing for them, which I regretted, but it’s important for people to know how these things work for most of us.

Recently, a writer of my acquaintance got a first book deal — 2 books for $70,000. That makes most new writers’ eyes light up with oh, if only… and of course getting paid to write is not a Bad Thing at all, it’s Good Good Good. But do the math.

Please note, the writer in question hasn’t discussed the money structure with me. I’m making this up based on how it generally works in publishing.

The advance of $70K is split between two books. So, $35K per book.

Those sums are further split into a schedule of payments — some on signing, most on acceptance of the final manuscript, and a small sum on publication. Let’s say $10K on signing, $20K on acceptance, $5K on publication.

Each of those payments is subject to agent’s commission right off the top — normally 15%. The agent actually gets your check, takes her commission, and sends you the rest. So now our first $10K is down to $8,500. That amount is subject to federal and state income taxes, federal social security tax, and Medicare. Since writers are self-employed, we must pay the employer’s contribution to social security as well as the employee’s — which means that social security alone is a 7.5% hit instead of 3.75%. Depending on how much money you expect to make from writing in a year, you estimate the total tax hit from 15% to 40%. That’s an additional $1,275 to $3,400 that’s gone from your $8,500.

Being self-employed, the writer is expected to pay estimated tax on a quarterly basis, so that money really does go right back out the door, which further reduces your cash flow.

Repeat these calculations for each scheduled payment.

And then look at the schedule. Maybe the first book of that two-book deal was basically already finished when the contract was signed. That’s good. It means that it’s possible the writer got the two big payments in the same calendar year — $30K, which after commission and, I dunno, 28% tax, comes to $18,360.

But the writer has to write the entire second book from scratch. Even if the writer begins that book the day the agent calls and says We have a deal, it is unlikely that there will be an acceptance payment (which for the second book might be along the lines of $25 or $30K, since there is no signing payment) for at least 12 months, and that’s if everything goes amazingly well. More likely, it will be 15-18 months before the next money rolls in. And if the first book doesn’t sell enough copies to earn out the first $35K advance, there will be no royalty money for the author.

And suddenly the $70,000 deal, as good as it is for a new writer in today’s market, doesn’t exactly make a person want to run out and quit her day job. Because after that contract is fulfilled, the two books published, it all starts again — the three chapters and outline, the delay while the agent and editor read and consider, the negotiations, the contract being drawn up. From the moment you send your agent the proposal for your next book, it can take 3, 6, 9 months to get an actual contract and a signing payment.

Is this unfair? No, of course not. It’s a stupid model that benefits very, very few people in the long term, but it’s only “unfair” if one believes that publishing owes one a living. I gave up believing that a long time ago.

Still, it is a broken model. And there’s a new day coming. I can’t wait.

The Dark Knight

So. Finally, after all the hype and the waiting, I’ve seen The Dark Knight. I’ll be seeing it again, and may have more to say about it after a more careful viewing, but here’s my gut response:

Awesome movie.

It did things I really didn’t expect, and what I expected was done so well as to be nearly seamless (no such thing as a perfect movie…) For me, this film comes closest to the essence and impact of Frank Miller‘s graphic novel. It’s not all a big party in Gotham, you know? Things happen to people.

It’s not so easy to balance the psychological exploration of what comes when people encounter a monster and find a little of themselves looking out of the eyes of chaos, and the blow-it-up fast-moving fun of a summer movie. But that’s what you get in The Dark Knight, and the ultimate coolness of this film is that you don’t get it in alternate jangling layers, but in an integrated structure that brings you deeper and deeper in, gradually, the way good wine changes as it breathes.

The writing… well, new benchmark for me, for sure. Lots there to learn from about structure, plotting, economy of exposition, showing versus telling, pacing…. And the direction and the performances lift the marvelous words to the place story always wants to go, into the realm of Well, it couldn’t have been any other way than this.

And then there is Heath Ledger, whose performance is absolutely fearless. Never mind the fences — he is swinging for the moon every second on screen, and damn near making it. Brilliant, riveting work, just electric. He found his way into a place that most actors don’t go with their villains — absolute joy. Not the movie cliche of capering gleeful inhuman evil, but the very human abandonment to that which we can no longer resist. In one scene, the Joker says I am an agent of chaos. He’s not kidding: but when he says chaos, he doesn’t mean that it doesn’t matter what happens — he means that whatever happens is Nothing But Good. Nothing But Joy. All outcomes equally compelling, equally desired, equally embraced. The difference between the monster and the heroes is that the monster has a pure super-oxygenated joy in whatever the next moment brings.

The next time I write story — screenplay, fiction, whatever — I will think of Heath Ledger and hope to be as fierce and as fearless, to write with the same tight balancing act of skill and abandon, the controlled recklessness, the what the fuck of it all.

So. Wow.

And the audience behaved beautifully. The popcorn was fresh. And I wore my special movie t-shirt:
Spoilt t-shirt designed by Oliver Moss(Click on the image to enlarge — but be warned, it’s called “Spoilt” for a reason…)

It was a good afternoon.