Red Light Green Light

Again, forgive the spelling. It's late and I'm tired.

In Cannes we were seeking funding for a number of projects that are at various budget levels. of course, we really want the big ones that might get us a gala screening even though all our babies are ones we want to produce.

Finding funding for a full budget film is like playing with that neighborhood kid that always changes the rules of the game as you play. And like that bully, these guys are about keeping and playing with power. It's about wanting to take the project away from the creator and usually for a fraction of its value or without any real credit for producing it -- a most valuable commodity in a business fueled on credits. And they have the advantage. Most film makers don't realize how valuable their projects are and the money -- however a pittance it is compared to its budget -- is tempting. And the ordeal is demoralizing.

I'll use one of our projects, 'Freak Experts,' as an example. We have what is considered an original thriller. It also has controversy which sells tickets. So we're told to find an a-list actor as a lead and we have the funds. As it happens, via the poetry scene in LA we have an a-list actor we can contact. He's a lead in 'Lord of the Rings' and has credits in such thrillers. He reads the script and is very interested. We take it to the funders and a contract is written and approved by both sides. But we get down to the signing and everything has changed. Suddenly, they want more oversight and creative input. Perhaps we should just sell the rights outright and let them handle everything. The cash offer is an insult. Mind you, we would have considered a buy out if it had been an upfront offer and one that was reasonable(like within WGA norms) -- not an obvious play on perceived desperation. We passed and our a-list guy took another film -- which we saw at a gala screening in Cannes. For the record -- after he left, these funders tried again to buy us out thinking we had no other a-list actors in our pockets. Incorrect. We found two more who liked the script. Both of them were at the screening of Kiss Kiss Bang Bang. One of them actually portraying a gay detective. In that one moment I was glad I wouldn't be at the party. Imagine the conversation.

As we left for Cannes, we had another such situation with a new script 'The Picture of Dorian Gray.' We're very proud of this faithful rendering of a favorite book. We were told from a trusted source that if we get the packaging of actors we proposed before adapting the book, we would have the money. One of them was our first a-list 'Freak Experts' actor. The other was a beautiful elven co-star from LOTR for Dorian himself. We were game. It merely took a letter and the worse that could happen?

We worked very hard on that script and I worked even harder on those letters. The letters are only a page long and must summarize the project and convey why the actor should want the part and why you're fit to produce it with acceptable margins and font size. Difficult. But we prevailed in getting interest from the actors. But then came the conditions. Our proposed Dorian had a new film coming up. How it did would determine whether we needed more a-list actors to green light. We found out before we got to the festival that the film didn't perform well. Okay. So we are going after other actors that will satisfy those funders. Meanwhile, we have found another source or sources for funding that are not directly tied to individuals or their egos.

Among the finds at the Cannes Markets were ways to get those projects underway the way we'd like.

Is this trip necessary?

Forgive my spelling. I'm on the fly here.

When you read about the gala screenings and the leisurely drinks on the Mediterranean beach, the question would seem to be a no brain-er. But even artist types like Jon and me have some grasp on reality. The trip was costly in time and money that we don't really have in abundance. Like any other independent film maker, our margins are very slim. Then there is the after effect of such a trip. We have day jobs. Imagine the kind of song and dance necessary to convince a conventional employer to allow two weeks off to go to the French Riviera. Let's just say that we're really good at our day jobs.

Then there is the family to consider. Our family is on the east coast and the question certainly comes up. Why go there and not come here to visit your family? A fair question indeed. We do miss home and family. But it's because we feel that sacrifice so keenly that we also feel compelled to not make the sacrifice a vain one. To avoid that, we must continue to seek success in the field we moved away to pursue. That's the best explanation I have.

To cope with the costs, we managed to get some great deals on clothes for the trip. Formal wear is an absolute must. Even the casual wear isn't as casual as it is in LA. All encounters are a combination of business meeting, audition and job interview. Even usually scruffy directors have to have a bit of polish. I borrowed one dress and found the others at discount department stores. Jon's tux was from a department store. He's slim enough that he looks good in most anything. We found shoes at Payless that passed pretty well -- especially in the evening. The first time we attended the festival, the guys with me thought we over packed. I realized that if we had been able to attend half the functions we wanted to, we hadn't packed enough of the right stuff. This time we were ready. It was a lot of clothes, but we wore everything and had to do laundry twice.

A note about French laundry -- not the restaurant in Napa or the clothing line. The laundromat is expensive. Really expensive. It was 5 euros for one load of wash more to dry. That's about 8 bucks with the exchange rate. That's how much it costs to do three loads of wash and dry at home.

Anyway, we had to spend a buttload of money before and during the trip while alienating our bosses. Then there is the grueling flight, etc. Why?

There are people that are important to people like us that go to Cannes. The distributor of our first feature saw our trailer there. And there are paths to funding future projects there. This time, we represented more that our company. We were there on behalf of half a dozen short film directors and two other production companies that needed fresh contacts. Some of these contacts are in Los Angeles, but it's hard to find them. There is no way to Google search for them and they ain't in the yellow pages.

At Cannes, the contacts are having beers in the American Pavilion at a table you've been sitting at alone for an hour. That's how I found one of my best. I had a few seats empty around me. He sat. We chatted to be polite. He had the contacts I was seeking and was inclined to share. Good karma is valued amongst our set, I suppose. At least for some. It helps to be amusing or in my case, self- effacing. I've got too many miles on me to use my feminine whiles. And it's not good to look desperate. The balance is difficult and it's all very intimidating. It's fortunate that Jon and I have been in so many ambiguous meetings over the years, that we don't go into anything with specific expectations. We're really good at getting what we can from an encounter and enjoying the whimsical elements that often coincide with it.

Some contacts are literally flashing before your eyes on a wide screen at the Pavilion. There were funding sources advertising there in ways I'd never seen before in LA. Even SAG was there as a helpful friend to the Independent Film maker. Nothing impresses these institutions more than a letter beginning with ' I met your rep at Cannes...' It shows that you either have the wherewithal to invest in the next level for your productions or someone has that kind of faith in your company. And making connections there shows that you have enough savvy to play there thus you have enough savvy to make films at another level.

Even at our entry level gala status, I really believe the trip was worth all that it costs and will cost.

Red Carpet Geeks

It may seem silly to the normal person that with all that was hanging in the balance for us at Cannes, we were so focused on getting into a film that was easily seen at home. But for Jon and I, Star Wars was the film that sparked our imaginations and made us want to go into film. Having the right badge to get tickets was not enough. There was a daily countdown to when certain tickets were available and there was a limited number of seats. You had to go online and reserve the ticket with a badge number and ID code. PC access unless you had wifi and a laptop was limited. I knew one of our party had to be online as the tickets came up or we would be shut out.

Thus, I responsibly scheduled my meetings for that day so I could get back to our hotel's pc in time. I dwadled online for nearly a half an hour to make sure I got in on time. Five minutes before schedule, the tickets went up. I had all of our badge numbers and IDs. Within ten seconds, I had four tickets. They were sold out three minute later. My hands were shaking when I finished. It was so much fun when a crestfallen Marie told me she had missed the window. Her face lit up when I told her I had them.

As Marie so eloquently stated, getting girlie is work. I don't usually wear make-up. I still chew off my lipstick. But for the galas, I made a real effort. Of course, one of my ear rings piercing had closed. Boy, did that hurt. And I don't want to talk about the torture device called a strapless bra. And in the mirror I saw my mother when she was at her best going out on a Saturday night with my father -- saucy and elegant. It was feeling this way with my head held high that we encountered the French mosh pit. There were thousands of fans pressed in what looked to be an impenetrable throng between where the cab dumped us and the palais. Luckily, we are Americans. The four of us pressed insistently though politely through the crowd. It was slow going and I worried because there was a cut off time to getting into the theater. Time was not our friend and the crowd seemed unending. I had Laura's hand tightly. We had already lost Jon and Marie, I didn't want to lose her.

When we finally broke free and made it to the cattle chute for our level (indeed they were the nose bleed seats), they were ushering us toward the red carpet. Somehow, Jon and Marie were beside us. I barely had time to enjoy the cooler air away from the crowd when we were on the gauntlet that passed by hundreds of paparazzi. By then, I could hear the orchestra and the Storm Trooper guards were alongside of us. Marie said, 'okay, this is cool.' I told Jon the only thing cooler would be the oscars. Then I squared my shoulders and held my head up like my mother taught me and sashayed up those stairs in a saucy and elegant way. I was imagining the time when I would walk up those stairs with my own cast.

As for the movie, the geeks like us will debate forever the flaws and hidden messages. I was pleased to sit in the same room as the man who had inspired us and watch the last installment before the rest of the world. And it inspires us still. The next day I set out with even more determination to start a film before the end of the year.

Marie's Red Carpet Confessions: Star Wars

My eloquent partner, Marie Lecrivain had this to say about the biggest gala we attended at Cannes. My thoughts will follow.

Red Carpet Confessions: Star Wars: Episode #3

This one still needs to be assigned a number:

Wearing a beautiful dress, expensive shoes, contacts and makeup, and then looking in the mirror, but not recognising the person there because it's been so long since you've seen her.

Walking the main thouroughfare and having lots of men smile and flirt with you in a way that is so much better than when L.A. men flirt and smile.

French Mosh Pit: Nearly getting (though politely) trampled by the crowd while trying to reach the Palias. Miraculously, your dress was not marked up.

23 different men in tuxedos request to buy your ticket, and you reply "non," each time with a smile.

The live orchestra begins to play the the movie's theme. You walk up the Red Carpet as 100+ flashbulbs go off in your face. You see yourself on the JumboTron (courtesy of the live feed) while you are walking up the Red Carpet with 100+ flashbulbs are going off in your face. And you know thousands of people can see how great you look at that moment...and wish they were you, though just not because of how great you look, but because they want to see the movie.

Being escorted by a cadre of Storm Troopers while wallking up the Red Carpet Steps.

Getting into the theatre, and being shunted to the nose-bleed seat section, but getting seats in the center row, with an 95% perfect view. The other 5% of your view is obstructed by a shiny bald head, band-aided in two places.

Watching the the movie screen ( again, courtesy of the live feed) and being entertained by the crowds reaction to Natalie Portman's shaved head.. One shaved celebrity head = dozens of fans heads scratched in puzzlement.

Being humbled by the appearance of a 50 ft George Lucas on the movie screen, and then amused as the person who is dressed in a Darth Vader costume comes forward to greet Mr. Lucas, and he nearly takes a header down the steps....hahahaha!

Experiencing the chagrin of having followed the rules of bringing no cameras or cell phones, and spotting a jerk sitting a few feet away secretly photographing George Lucas on the movie screen...does it really pay to follow the rules?

Hearing your friends complain about how thirsty they are, and then being hailed as a momentary savior when you share your bottle of water with them.

Happily, the movie starts only 15 minutes after it's official start time...and there are no commercials or previews.:)

Watching the last Star Wars movie four days before its release at the biggest film festival in the world, and knowing that you will never have another experience like this again...

Other than birth, death, and sex, this experience will take the # 4 slot.

PS: This is actually # 2 in the Red Carpet experience The first was the previous night when I went to see Kiss, Kiss, Bang, Bang, and the last will be tonight's viewing of A History of Violence.

m. lecrivain 16/05/05

blog it all!

Well, after days and days of effort, six password changes and being wiped out of the log twice, this darn thing finally let me back in. I think the software could use a few improvements, personally!

Anyway, I'm bring from a very inspring trip to Cannes and pounding away at the old keyboard again. Two erotic novels in the works along with a touch of fanfic, two new DUG stories, one that will probably turn into a novella because I'm me, and one that I'm trying to work out new ideas for the prequel story line. Add a paranormal script and a try at a horror story and you have a confused and torn writer in your midst.

Personally, I 'm writing the sex scenes in the morning while the kids are at school, (I find the 14 years reading over my shoulder more and more), Outlining the scripts in the afternoon, and using my evening with the family to work on story ideas. Then I fall into bed, think about all of them until my brain short circuits and I sleep. Only to start the whole thing over again in the morning. There just are NOT enough hours in the day to write everything running around in my head!

Laura

Blog out the barrel!

There is a 'blat' from the sky and Gerald the racing snail jerks unexpectedly into view. On the down side, green curry makes racing snails fart. On the up side - can you say turbo charged? Yowza!

Fire Frog slithers giddily from her saddle, pinching her nostril holes shut and laughing uproariously. Gerald speeds away in a grand temper.

Racing snails - can't live with them - can't sell them as waterbeds...

Fire Frog gasps heavily then flip flops her way over to the podium. Show time!

***
Music. It is this great universal language. But some times, I just don't want to know.

And I don't know why somebody else insists on telling me.

Okay, so the great fic I just read was written while you were listening to the 'War Of The Worlds' sound track on loop. Great. But your actual story was about two small elves that ran off to live in the big city. What relevance does that music have to the story?

If the music were conducive to building a mood, maybe I'd want to know. Reading 'Sleepy Hollow' fic while listening to 'Toccata & Fugue in D minor' and 'Dance Macabre' might get you more involved with the work. Me, I find it distracting.

But so many people do it. What is the fascination? Is it possibly the author saying 'Hey! I like Madonna's 'Material Girl'! If you do too then you're bound to love my story!'

Maybe it works. Not for me, in even the tiniest way, but for others, who knows?

Do authors share their inspirational songs in order to help others tune in to the artistic vibe? Or are they just giving themselves a congratulatory wank for being such eclectic and 'out there' artistes?

Fire Frog looks over at her CD collection. On the closest rack she has -
The Sound Track from 'Lord Of The Rings'.
The Sound Track from 'Master And Commander'.
The Sound Track from 'War Of The Worlds' (mea culpa).
D12's 'D12 World'.
Silverchairs 'Frogstomp'.
'Barbie Slumber Party Mix 2'.
'The World's Best Ever Beer Songs'.
'Earthrise 2'. (I really want no#1!)
'Queens Greatest Hits'.
'The Best Of Steeleye Span'.
'Drumming Round The World'.
'Gregorian Chants'.

God, I'm a wanking eclectic artiste too! Fancy that.

To aid your understanding of my current writing jag I shall here divulge my current favourite song list - The Sims 'Hawaii theme 1', Nittys 'Hey Bitty', Garbages 'Why Do You Love Me', Eminems 'Mockingbird' and Green Days 'American Idiot'.

As an aside - it has occurred to me that, what with the bonnet thing and all, I may have come across as a wee bit anti American. Not so! I love Americans! They taste great with mustard - ranch, naturally...(Nice Americans! Put down that large weapon of mass destruction...hey, I'm warning you - I've got freedom of speech too, and I'm not afraid to use it!! Nice Americans...) Right, glad we sorted that out before any misunderstandings cropped up.

By the by, should any one wish to post a reply to one of my blogspots, could you please indicate if you have brought the book 'Demon Spawn 2'. If you have I shall be forced to deal with you as a sensible, thinking creature in your own right.

If not I may mock you openly. Many fear the enraged Fire Frog. Here on the blog site they are coming to dread the emotionally 'fragile' Fire Frog. But true horror is for the Fire Frog who mocks. Beware! Beware! Her shinning teeth and razor snare!

To avoid a thorough mocking go to Amazon.com and order the book immediately (Type 'demonspawn' into the search engine.) Go on, off you hop!
.................
.................
...mumble, grumble. Oh, okay. I do get the sharing of songs thing. The web is a big ole' community that encourages its denizens to share of themselves. Music is a very important part of a person, and sharing your favourite song confirms your place in the group. You are one of the true believers.

It's just, when people use songs that others don't know - because, say, they are not American. Or English. Or Dutch. *O.O* um... then they can feel left out. Not that I would. I'm far too well grounded. Skin as thick as anything, me....

Bwaaaa! Why do you hate me so? You listen to music I don't know, talk about politicians I've never heard of, weather I'm not experiencing...it's the wings, isn't it? You've got wing envy. I can't help them, they just showed up with the personification.

Sigh, I'm gonna go put on my CD of 'The Sentinel' theme songs, grab a reluctant cat and go curl up with my latest jigsaw puzzle. Fire Frog needs some 'ahhh' time. Byedy bye!

Blog stop

The fairy frog throws her skinny arms in the air and describes a graceful arc as she descends delicately into the middle of the room, twirling slowly. Her feet hit with a sticky suction noise and she hurries over to the podium, eyes fanatical as always.

She shows her teeth to the room and takes a firm hold of the gem encrusted microphone...
***

What is fashionable for ending a story these days any how?

I used to write 'fini' because it was French and sounded sophisticated. No - really. Then someone told me it was supposed to be 'finis' so then I looked like some damned idiot who shouldn't be trusted with foreign languages, except maybe yank, as they will write in strait way to put me right no matter how small the perceived linguistic error may be.

I will never forgive them for the bonnet thing. Ever.

Hmm, endings -
'The End' is so boring.
'End' is minimalist and just a tad abrupt.
'So It Begins...' is pretty damn good, but its been over used a little now too.
My sign off for the last few years has been 'Oh My!' which works in well for the slash stories. But for main stream publishing - what is the norm?

'Here Endeth My Masterpiece, Forward All Monetary Encouragement's To The Address Below" has a certain ring (cha-ching of the cash register)

'And else all is silence...' isn't bad.
'And of what happened next, no word is written' is a bit gloomy.
Circular stories that end with the same sentence they began with are fun!

No indication that the story has ended is popular, but just asking for trouble in my opinion. Leaves people wondering if there is a second page somewhere, or if half of the story failed to download to their computer, or the author suddenly died without time to write aarrgghhhh........

The one ending I hate is the one that ends with a quoted bit of song/poem etc that may have inspired the story, but which has no context on the way it actually fell out. I sit there scratching my head, wondering what blackbirds pecking blood from their chests has to do with the cop relationship fic I just read. Must be a link somewhere - but its just too hard. The stories rarely follow theme, or weight, of their end quotes.
Leave 'em bamboozled, 'eh?

The End

Oh My!

Give me a blog...

The wind howls in from the open sky and Fire Frog holds up her webbed fingers to the stars above. Where the hell is that pizza delivery boy!?!

***

Firstly - thanks to those of you who wrote in about yesterdays unhappy post and commiserated with me.

...
(brief pause to listen to the crickets singing into the vast silence)
...

Oh yeah, nobody did. But never fear, I've recovered from days like yesterday on my own for ages now - I can hack it. Doesn't mean I don't want an 'attaboy' every now and then. A 'hey, Fire Frog, you're doing it tough right now, but tomorrow is another day.'

Bravery is a funny thing. Sometimes it's standing in a line and killing the barbarians as they come over the fence. Some times its putting a hand on someone's shoulder and sharing their pain, saying, yeah, I've been there, I'm human too. You are not alone.

They say warriors are brave. I think healers are braver. That's why in my mind, Joe has always been stronger than Simon. Anyone can hurt you. It takes guts to care.

Now, where was I...

Listen up kids, this may come in handy one day. Say you're standing there at your work station and suddenly your mind does its little thing and you can't remember what you are doing.

DON'T PANIC!

Here are a few simple tips to get you back on track. First, look at the clock. Most people have regimented life styles, to a certain extent. If it's 1pm, what do you usually do at 1? That's probably what you are in the middle of doing right now.

Next, what are you holding in your hands? In a lab this is fairly important, especially when holding chemicals. One kind of chemical means this procedure is underway, the other kind means another one is. Or if they are both used then what you've got can tell you what stage of the procedure you are at.

Important. Did you just add the chemicals together, or were you about to? How to tell - is the chemical reacting violently, becoming hot or cold, effervescing, changing colour, emitting a violent odour? Yes? You just added something.

Do a quick calculation in your head - how much liquid is supposed to be in your beaker? Check the side and see what your volume is telling you is the correct place to pick up the experiment again.

Feel your hotplate, Bunsen burner, computer - have they been going long/only just been shut down? In what configuration have you laid your trays, glass wear, pipettes? At what point in your procedure do you lay them out like that? Then that must be where you are up to!

Trust me - this works. Been doing this for years and I've only had to stop one experiment and chuck it because I could not figure out what the hell I was up to. It was a copper sulphate Fe determination. Bloody thing.

Even that time I forgot what colour meant stop at the lights - all I had to do was wait for another car to pull up and when it stopped think - 'ah, the next colour must be the go one.'

Yesterday I panicked - I was feeling low and the memory loss on top of everything else just threw me for a loop. Today I'll use my head and 'work it out'.

So - for this blog. Let's see, Story Three. Angelina - I've covered where the idea came from and filled in some of the back story (yes, I did just pop off and re read the blog :)

I covered my weird obsession with getting small details right that nobody appreciates but I'm too anal not to do anyway in the other story blogs.

(Goes and re reads the story again)

Hmm, some of the themes could do with more exploring. For instance - I never saw Angelina as evil, I don't believe in manifest evil, only human evil which is wishy washy and unstable ie killing baby seals is evil, unless you are starving to death on the ice. Incest is evil, unless you are the last man and woman in the jungle, then you 'have' to repopulate it.

Angelina is what she is - the way Simon was when he woke up after being attacked. Want to go on living? Then de-humanise people so you can kill without soul breaking remorse and drink their blood without seeing their tormented faces every day when you go to sleep.

It is Simon and Angelina's differences that may decide how amoral Angelina becomes. Simon became a vampire by accident. She chose her path. Things could get messy.

Another theme is love, Angelina has just ended the process of strangling all the old love she had for her family, but Simon knows that one century she may regret not having said good bye to Joe. What hang ups did he have about his family? Did he suffer regrets? Will she?

Dying of a terrible disease, Joe loves his family and is killing himself so that they won't have to see him suffer through an awful death. Simon loves Joe, so he does it for him. He doesn't kill Joe from hate, but love. What does that do to him?

And there was the sexual tension I touched on, between Angelina and her brothers, and even her father. It's a terrible thing and may haunt the remainder of Joe's family for generations to come. Will the lost child ever feel relaxed enough around Simon to ease up and believe in his love for her, or will she ever be afraid that one of her beast relatives will steal him from her?

She may feel forced to keep herself high maintenance on the killing fields just to keep Simon's attention focused on her. One day the McKay family may yet get a midnight caller that takes more than the family jewels away with them in the night. Simon promised Joe he'd protect his family. What would he do if Angelina slaughtered the lot?

So there you have it. That's probably quite close to what I was going to write about.

Unless I was going to bring up the bonnet thing again. That's always good for a laugh.

***

More poetry. Yes - you have to suffer too. It's a rule.

Alone. By AM Parke.
I walk alone, I chose this path. I see what no one sees.
I dance on air, I'm fierce and proud, I fulfil my own needs.
I walk alone. It has its risks. I chose this path. I can't complain.
If streaming past it seems to me, that no one sees my pain.
I see clear, I walk tall, I need no chaperone.
But sometimes it is sad. To walk alone.

Shell. By AM Parke.
Sometimes pain leaks from my eyes.
Sometimes I get sick of telling half lies.
There is no reason for you to worry
Tell me your woe's, I've got no hurry
I can see how you have been hurt
By that crap they said at work.
No, nothing happening here
Same every year
No screaming, no crying
No fear of dying
No shortage of help
No pain being felt
No trauma, no needing
No inability to do weeding
Everything is well
Outside my shinny shell
I stand tall and hold the line
While others fall and can't climb
From their little bumps and missteps
Their tiny pains and workplace spats
No trouble here
All is well
Even if
My life is hell.

Blaarrgh!

With the screech of a thousand infernos Gerald the Racing Snail pulls up at the edge of the blogging room and Fire Frog catapults herself from the saddle and onto the podium. Mania gleams in her little beady frog eyes and sparks shoot from her flaring nostrils. Hold on - tonight you're in for a rant....

***

You may have been wondering where I've been and why I haven't been writing anything. I wasn't too far away, but the fact of the matter is I haven't written lately because of one pesky little problem.

I've forgotten what I was going to write about next.

Which reminds me of another question people ask me sometimes. "Fire Frog," they say, "How come you don't write in our fandome any more?" or even - "We know you haven't written anything for ages in our fandome, but you wouldn't mind writing a little story for our next fanzine - would you?"

Nope, I wouldn't. But there's a reason I shan't see my name in the fanzine when it comes out. See, I'll have forgotten about it. The fanzine, the fandome, whatever.

For Fire Frog has a bitty little tumour in her head that is placed in exactly the wrong spot. I call her Elizabeth, and why the hell not.

Elizabeth is the reason I have 42 stories in 'The Sentinel' fandome, with another sixteen at least mapped out in rough in spiral note pads, and will never get to write a single one more. Nor will those stories in the rough ever be fleshed out and posted.

You see, I've forgotten about The Sentinel. All those episodes I've watched, the fan fic I've read, the research into wolves, panthers, spiritualism, stupid yank ways of saying simple things like the 'bonnet' of a car a completely different way. All gone.

There are shreds left. I clearly still do remember the bonnet incident, for example. I remember Blair Sandburg was my favouritist character ever. But I don't remember enough of anything else.

Well, just learn it all afresh, you say. Sure thing. And while I'm at it I'll just take back all that lost Chemistry and Physics I've spent the last four years learning as well. Of course, once re learnt, there's no guarantee I won't forget it anew. Or remember everything half way through relearning it. Elizabeth is like that. Capricious.

I'll just have to be happy with my Certificate in Applied Science, and kiss the Diploma away. You can't continue on if you no longer know why X = Y+ 25. Bit of a bitch that, really.

It could be worse. I remember my name most every day now. It's been six months since I last forgot what the red stop light meant.

Four years since I forgot what a bucket was. Not just what you call a bucket - such little slips were hourly events at one time. No, this was different. I forgot what a bucket was!

I stood looking at it for ages. What does it do? It's hollow like a bell, or a well. It doesn't go as deep as a well. It didn't have a clapper for making noise. The idea of putting something in it never occurred to me. Until suddenly it did and I was left reeling, terrified by a bloody plastic 'pail' (as the yanks will call it).

And now I can't remember what I was going to write about here next. Come on, I was getting better! Oh. Fuck it. Just...fuck it.

Perhaps I should mention at this point that I'm on the tail end of a four day migraine. Perhaps I should explain that I am beginning my second flu for the year. Perhaps I should say that NOBODY HAS BOTHERED PHONNING UP TO SEE IF I'M STILL FREAKIN ALIVE FOR THE LAST FOUR DAYS!!!!!

...wheeze, pant, gasp, snuffle, gasp, pant....

I wrote these Bantu Poems yesterday.

***

My head aches,
The bleeding of thoughts.

Bright fish in the river,
Ribbons fly on the wind.

The yellow moon veiled by clouds,
A coin hidden in my pocket.

Blood in the water,
Ghosts for my eyes.

The computer hums,
I drink coffee by the lake.

Moonlight in dark rooms,
Secrets never shared.

Tiny red berries,
Guineapig squeals.

Tears in the minds membrane,
The angel's swords.

***

It's a funny old world, isn't it?

Small World

During the screening of Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, one of our own Demon Under Glass Actors, Harrison Young (Conroy) made a pivotal appearance. That was funny because Jon had been waxing nostalgic and with a considerable amount of residual bitterness for three years about the 17 takes the man needed to just barely get out of one scene. I realized who he was and that Jon would have a conniption a split second before he went off. The rant wasn't loud as rants go, but it was vitriolic. I was thrilled that the major movie cast someone in our film.

Lagging

Jet lagging, blog tardiness, both. I'm suffering from it and guilty of it. I know this blog was my idea --well, I'll get into the day to day travails when I start the detailed reports. And I find it hard to complain on a near perfect say in the breeze looking at the Queen Mary 2.

There are a lot of wonderful small moments being here that I want to talk about later. Today I want to talk about our first red carpet screening here. Red carpets are not new to us. We did Power Rangers Turbo after all. We've experienced excited fans wondering who the heck we are on two continents now.

The grand staricase at the Palais is an amazing experience. There is this incredible mix of very A-list and those of us who fill in the various ranks below. It was as if the festival wanted to acknowledge that we're all doing the same thing -- making films -- so enjoy some of the glitter. Because of the crush of the crowd in front of the Palais, everyone including stars have to abandon vehicles at least a block away and walk. The balcony folks were funneled through a chute that opened onto the staricase really quickly. I couldn't look at myself on the stadium sized outdoor screen. I was busy not tripping, sucking in my gut, keeping up with Jon and not grimacing because of my aching feet. I was aware of the sanppily dressed honor guard and the flashing cameras but it didn't seem right to pause. Even if cameras were allowed (though I saw lots of them) I didn't have the presence of mind to get a good shot. My hands were shaking when I reached the top.

The film was Kiss Kiss Bang Bang or as the French say keeskeesbongbong. I love that. It is a Shane Black film starring robert Downey, Jr. and Val Kilmer. It was described as a film noir, but it was a hilarious and brilliant spoof. I'm still chuckling over it this afternoon. It was a really great pick for a first time.

We have a lot of schmoozing to do on Monday. Three big actors who've all said yes to the same part at one point in time will be in the same environs. Could be awkward or it could jump start the project. But schmoozing is for tomorrow. Today's red carpet event is soon. Hang the competition. Everyone here wants to see Star Wars Episode 3.

On a Blog & a Prayer

The rich greenery sprouting from the ornate pot plants stirs and the squashy body of the Fire Frog is revealed, collapsed on a divan of crushed ferns and bruised mini palm trees. She blinks, eyes the dent high above her on the burgundy wall that marks the last bump of her impressive rebounds to touchdown landing, and sighs. Maybe she should buy Gerald a video recorder after all.

Hopping up from her supine position Fire Frog trots happily over to the podium, creates and mounts the magic soap box and stares enthusiastically into the whirring kaleidoscope of cyberspace.
***

Story Three.
Angelina
- where the idea came from.

Long ago, high on a mountain in Mexico...no, wait, that's the beginning of an ABBA song....

Er, long ago, notanywherenearMexico, Fire Frog joined the yahoo!group dedicated to DUG. And one of her posts ran thusly -

'Any hoo, the questions about Joe's past reminded me of what I was thinking when I started reading the Oracle part of the novel<'Demon Under Glass' - FF>. The bit where Sibyl is introduced. 'I' thought - hello, Simon has arranged Joe's life so that he will have kids, and plans on 'getting ahold' of those kids early on and bringing them up to 'like' friendly Mr Molinar. This second story will be about 'can Joe keep the kids from Simon?' Will Simon be able to resist their dad's final plea to release them and take him instead? And did he plan for it to go that way all along?'

running away together, hiding from every stranger...oh, you're back from the past already? Bugger.

So there it is - the germ of an idea. What if Simon was a real bastard - willing to look at the long-term possibilities and harnessing the patience to engineer his companion?

First he takes the terrified Joe and is super nice to him until the fear subsides, then hunts down and introduces him to the woman of his dreams - one that just happens to have the antibody as well....

He leaves - but not to far, drops in, keeps in touch with the young family, makes sure nothing bad ever happens. Waits for the inevitable children to grow up to a point where having them as lovers won't get him busted by the police in the millennia to come.

Has limited success with son number one - Tommo. But manages to keep their brief fling from daddy Joe by use of friendly extortion and lovers persuasion.

Second son Conner immediately senses danger and heeds dad's life long warning - don't ever trust uncle Simon - ever! He tells dad, dad talks to son number one, confessions are made all round - but now the daughter is old enough to be in the mix - and she is not like her brothers.

A self centred teen Angelina is anything but angelic. Manipulative of her family since the cradle the girlchild has been kept in check by strong family influence and unending support and love. With no need to act out to gain attention and with well-defined boundaries Angelina was a good girl.

Then came puberty, a widening of horizons, the surge of hormones, sudden mysterious power over boys and girls alike. At school she soon became known as a queen bitch. At home she struggled to maintain her good girl image. Still wanted to maintain it.

Simon came for her at the perfect time. He not only saw Angelina for what she was, he loved her for it. He encouraged her to be all she could be, to not worry about pleasing or disappointing her parents. To embrace the power and the purity of her soul. And when he was forbidden to her by her family he became all that she ever wanted.

Her family did what they could to separate them. Warned Simon off, moved house in the middle of the night, kept to themselves in a new, isolated little one horse town. The place was grindingly boring and had sucked the life from everyone that lived there.

But her family had proved how much they loved her by the move, the disruption to their lives, and Angelina wavered. Unfortunately she now found out that Simon had been involved with her elder brother Tommo and sexual jealousy came into play. Simon was her lover! Simon had left Tommo for her and she would not let her uptight, moralistic parents keep her from him any more. (What if Tommo changed his mind, what if he accepted the gift, where would she be then?)

Simon found her ten minutes down the road from the outskirts of the one horse town, marching determinedly towards escape. Going back to him. His smile was candescent.

He had wanted to wait awhile to see if Joe would turn up and offer himself as substitute for his daughter, but Angelina was insistent and somehow he had been carried away by her demands.

And as he stroked her long hair and listened to her sated rest, he wondered if all the waiting, all the planning, had been for the best. Joe would never love him now.

But Angelina did.
***

Field Note -- Before the Trip

I'm writing my field notes here because the trip is, in part, a business trip for Sybaritic Press. and the thrust of the entire trip is broader than any one project we've done and any individual actor we know, so it seemed inappropriate to any single list I'm on. I had hoped to include photos on the blog, but I can't figure out how to upload them. If anyone can, let me know. I'll probably have Jon post them on the Dragoncor site on an unlinked page.

Despite my reputation, there are few times that I drink alcohol in the morning. But I'm flying this morning and I have to get my buzz on or I'll try to leave the plane while it's flying. We're flying the unlikely carrier Air Tahiti. They were the best price and for some reason have daily flights from LA to Paris.

The luggage seems to have made it to the hotel in Cannes. I really hope it did. Well, I've frittered away three hours somehow. Gotta get my cab. More from Paris.

Multiple Personalities

If you are aware of my stories in any fandom I write in, you're probably aware that I rarely take the characters in the same direction twice. In a manner of speaking, the result is that my favourite characters end up as multiple personalities, with each personality represented by a different story. In Demon Spawn II, my Simon and Joe in "The Midnight Sun" react differently to each other than the way they interact in "Storm Surge". For DUG, I like to take the wonderful characters I saw in the movie, put them in a new situation, then see what they do while trying to keep them as true as possible to my personal understanding of the movie canon. Coming from a different life experience than any of the other writers, I read things into the characters that perhaps Deb and Jon never intended.

Right now I'm working on two different "what if's" for DUG.

The first, which I must finish by the end of this week because of its publication deadline, answers a couple of "what if's": Firstly, what if Joe and Simon's first encounter had come about while Joe was working at a different VA hospital? Actually, the different location was a request from the lady who won my 'your-choice story' in the 2004 Moonridge Charity Auction. She wanted an AU, first-time story set in her home town of Baltimore, MD. We discussed several different ideas and possiblities online, then got into a side conversation about Edgar Allen Poe, who died in Baltimore. The next thing I knew, I was wondering what if Simon had been in Baltimore and had been personally acquainted with Poe? The next thing I knew, Joe and Simon were off and running, and I've been typing it into the computer as fast as I can. I'm not going to give the plot away, but let's just say that at one point Simon refers to himself as "lily-livered". It was fun exploring what could make a powerful vampire feel that way.

The second story, which has already been promised to Demon Spawn III, asks, what would happen if the very tenacious Gwen Taylor carried on her pursuit of Simon after the Delphi debacle? How would Joe feel if Gwen drew him into her crusade? How would both or either of their reactions by affected by the very different circumstances of their own involvement with the vampire during the events of "Demon Under Glass"?

Okay, gotta get back to writing the stories now...

Jenny

Why I write DUG

I started a new DUG story today. While going over the storyboard for it, I stopped to think about the reason I picked it to work on today as opposed to one of the other five projects I have in various stages of completion. This story is going to be long and somewhat complex. It involves bring back a character or two from the original movie, Nurse Susan, and expanding her personality from the few insights we were given in the film. A difficult task, IMO, having little to go on besides her anger and pain over Hirsch's death and her career as a nurse. The story will have to be long and tangled to work the way I plan on it going.

So why take on a task that will require so much time and energy when I have less demanding work of my own original characters I could be working on? Because I absolutely love these two characters!

Joe and Simon are so very complex, both together and seperately. They are driven by a number of non-obvious and obvious factors in their ever changing relationship. It's non-obvious one I like to explore -- the need for comfort and support all human's have taking its toll on a man's boundaries, how dependency can make a relationship stronger, how jealousy factors in -- and a million other less visible things that affect them. Where does friendship factor in? Can you be exclusive sex partners without being lovers? Or turning into lovers? Can basic need become love? Does the means justify the end? How can Joe, a doctor of medicine, object to Simon killing the only food source he has to survive be wrong when allowing a person to willfully commit suicide is against his oath as a doctor? Of course, nothing says Simon has been completely up front about everything about his feeding habits, either. Can their relationship survive the misconceptions? And the biggie, will Joe turn?

Complex and interesting possiblities that other storylines don't get the chance to explore. That's what DUG offers to me as a writer. I can get twisted or sappy. It runs the whole spectrum of emotions. I love them!
Love to write them! Hope you love to read them, too!

LauraB

Simon and Joe's Relationship

Firefrog has been doing a marvelous job of examining the stories she wrote for Delphi. My dear, your work was well worth any momentary angst over broken faxes. We were very impressed with your rendering of the characters and your creative plots -- wherever they come from.

Without revealing anything about my story in Demonspawn 2, I can tell you why I decided to write the story. The collection of works we'd read from fanfic authors over the last year depicted a wide and sometimes an extreme range of Simon personalities in the way he handles his relationship with Joe. Some of the takes we thought were valid within the perameters of the film. Some made us raise an eyebrow. Readin begets writing, so I decided to explore the dynamics of Joe's seduction. Jon and I agreed that no matter how willing Joe seemed to be, he was ultimately his state of mind was a result of Stockholm Syndrome. The simple fact is that were it not for the fact that Joe McKay is in eminent and grave danger, he would not chose to be with Simon in any fashion.

Thus my contention is that Simon would take advantage of the circumstances while this grave danger exists. He would do nothing to cause Joe pain or give him any reason not to trust him. Despite his behavior at the end of Demon Under Glass, Simon is willing to be patient with Joe. He has to be the Doctor's safe harbor. Meanhwile, Simon shows Joe the most appealing aspects of his peronality: his wit and charm and sensuality. Delphi sets things in motion in the beginning of Identities and Simon deftly turns the circumstances to his advantage. Joe has not alternative but to yield and bring himself closer to Simon. Both men are aware of the reasons for Joe's responses, but it doesn't matter to either by then.

The question I will explore with the next story is how will Simon behave when someone else shows an interest in being close to Joe.

Blog it on!

"Good evening...." the over stuffed arm chair swivels round and a smiling Fire Frog takes the carrot she is nibbling from the corner of her mouth.

Around her the big 'vaguely classic with a hint of Myan and could that be Egyptian' statues have arrived and been put on display, as have the pots and pots of ferns and ribbon grass. Large puffy cushions cover most of the lime green floor, Fire Frog is now mindful of Gerald's TV watching habits.

From the look of the armchair our Fairy Frog has in mind some more serious author type discussions ahead. Oh joy.
***
Story Two.
Sharks.

Inspiration from much honoured and respected senior authors is often gained in moments of quiet reflection. Their words spur us on in our quest for just the right word, the right idea....

I would certainly never have pinched the whole shark killing island women who live on canoes holus bolus from Patrick O'Brian, author of the twenty four maritime Aubrey/Maturine 'Master & Commander' books. Oh no, not me.

Well, maybe not.

Okay then, I did.

But the shark episode was sparked in my head by something that happened to my dad when he was out scuba diving one day.

And my own sea/darkness/wonders/holycrapwhatbitme,I'mgonnakillyouRobert! experience. So there!

Now remembering that this is a stand alone story, the first one I wrote in the DUG universe I believe, I still have Joe just discovering that he might kind of, maybe, like the bloodsucking fiend he's been running away from capture with after all.

And who can hate a guy who saves you life twice? Hmmm?

Being mistaken for lovers is Simon's dream come true and an outsiders natural assumption. Aren't the guys always whispering together? Isn't Simon always hovering protectively and glaring every potential rival off? Aren't they just the cutest couple?

I had the boat load of divers accept that the guys were gay after some deep thinking on Australian homophobia. It exists - especially in schools and churches. Rural folk are mostly okay with it so long as the offenders are strait seeming and don't rock the boat. Big town citizens are cliquey, uptight, often religious, and less tolerant than true bushies or big city dwellers.

Aboriginal people are very tolerant, unless they pick up prejudices from an enforced mission upbringing. Metropolitans are also more relaxed and I think you'd have a good chance at finding a boatload of these guys. We do have a violence free gay and lesbian Mardi gra every year after all.

So I opted out of the angry homophobe on board. Am I however a coward for doing so? Why not confront and encourage facing off with prejudice at every turn?

Nah - it was a short little fun story that ended up longer than I had planned anyway, my deep thoughts on homophobia just happened to go in the same direction as my time limit did.

Ditto on the time restriction with my photographer just handing over his film. No way would a real life snapper have done that, and I felt bad for letting him do it.

But the story had to end! I've written too many novellas that started off as one paragraph throw-aways, a line has to be drawn! As it is the ending is kinda wishy washy, I just went - okay, I'll end it here. As story telling goes - not a wise move!

In hind sight I also shouldn't have included everyone's blasted surnames all the time either, but I had some worry that just using first names would make the characters two dimensional. Then once I'd used the full name I kept using it because the readers might not recognise the first name without the second one tagging along at the back.

A load of crap you say? Well, yes. But it made sense at the time. Honestly!

And just one quick note on the sharks used in the story. A juvenile White Pointer did the tasting run on Joe, the Black Tip Reef Sharks were just there for a free feed!

Which reminds me, where the hell is my deluxe cheese pizza? I've gotta feed this flu quick, before the cough medicine kicks in and I fall......................