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Category Archives: Fiction
Blake Replies
Read yesterday’s to follow today’s…
FROM BLAKE:
Attn. Daedalus (if that indeed is your real name) –
Poor sir, you’re a fool. This search for yourself in the eyes of women is dull and ordinary. Moreover, the identity motif in your slipshod reportage is not only trite but telling. No wonder you haven’t made any satisfactory gains [...]
Also posted in The Press Club Leave a comment
Her Many Lovers
Blake, man –
Forgive the lapse, chap. Been waylaid conducting important research: indeed, the search for a unified field theory of women continues. At least ex post facto. And no thanks to the Lumaville Daily Echo, by the way. It’s with some relish that I admit to having spent a week on the clock, wine-soaked and [...]
Also posted in The Press Club Leave a comment
Under Coverage
In the screen trade, Readers are the proverbial guardians at the gate, the first line of defense the industry has against the teeming horde of wannabes, sycophants and otherwise undiscovered geniuses prostrate before the gaping maw of the great bitch goddess of Hollywood.
These literate worker-bees are the oily cogs of the dream machine. They produce [...]
Also posted in Backlot Leave a comment
Scene One
FADE IN:
EXT. DESERT – DAY
A wind-swept desert plain. Dervishes of dust dance over the cracked earth and lead to an army-issue tent, which is tiny on the horizon.
Close on the tent — a hand-painted sign reads “Lumaville Daily Echo: K—istan Bureau.” Below it, seated at a makeshift desk is a weatherbeaten young man. He has [...]
Also posted in The Press Club 1 Comment
Prelude to Drinks at Dawn
It was late when we started drinking.
And hours since our host had abandoned us in his kitchen with a blithe “Help yourselves” before trundling out to the still waters of the River Lumaville and the boathouse astride its banks. The carelessness of the nouveau riche, I thought. His guests comprised the press club after all [...]
Also posted in The Press Club Leave a comment
When Blake Speaks of Love
For Rigby, our paper’s theater critic, every evening was Opening Night, every meal jug wine and cubed cheddar, and every aspiring actress a Sarah Bernhardt — so long as there was a dressing room door to lock. That the dressing rooms were locked to keep Rigby out of them only caused him mild consternation like [...]
Also posted in The Press Club Leave a comment
The Bird
I’d heard it before ? clink, clunk, clink, clunk ? like some nervous junior exec sifting pocket change in his chinos. Everyone on the Backlot claimed to have heard it at least once and reported, variously, that it was “like an alarm clock being wound,” or “thimbles on a washboard,” and perhaps most lyrically, from [...]
Also posted in Backlot Leave a comment
Paint By Numbers
My fashionably faux-bearded partner Cary Carpe and I just rescued our latest script, “Painting By Numbers,” a commercial spec of the proverbial “high concept” variety eleven drafts in, from being recycled by the studio as a coffee cup insulator composed of 33% post consumer waste. This is ironic seeing as the screenplay itself is already [...]
Also posted in Backlot Leave a comment
Future Tense
All this future-baiting (see below) reminds me of a moment that occurred last week at the Directors Guild of America, where my writing partner Cary Carpe and I screened our new spot for the 7th Annual Filmmakers Alliance Screening. The event served, in part, as a tribute to “Sideways” director Alexander Payne who was on [...]
Also posted in Backlot Leave a comment
1977 Redux