Friday, July 25, 2014

A Piece of Eternity

I spent ten years as a struggling screenwriter. The first five years were one of the best times of my life. The second five years, not so much.

A Piece of Eternity was written early in those first five years.

I had spent my twenties writing three novels, with three different agents and far too many editors praising a manuscript, then passing on it, but always wanting to see my next one. And almost always saying, "This is so visual, it should really be a screenplay." I took that as a compliment early on, generally mumbled some neutral acknowledgment and ignored it a few years after that, then finally started wondering if I was writing in the wrong field altogether. So in my thirties, I switched, and life got wonderfully bizarre.

I landed an agent in Hollywood fairly quickly, after she read my second and third attempts at a screenplay. (Even I didn't want to read my first.) The third one even found some interest with the first producer who read it, which put me in a strange position: I had a project (supposedly) coming together, but I had never made the rounds of meet-and-greets with a calling card of a spec script. My agent and I both agreed the second one was better as a follow-up than an introduction, and a micro-budget indie producer was interested in it anyway. And that third one needed a budget to give even the most artistically minded bean counter the vapors. So I needed another one, a big yet affordable one, and quickly.

A Piece of Eternity was the script.

Kindle | Paperback

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

I Only Drank The One


I swear.

Thursday, July 17, 2014

Jesse Pinkman, Street Therapist


A bad neighborhood, where TWEEKER and TWEEKETTE argue.

TWEEKETTE: You’re holdin’ out on me!

TWEEKER: I ain’t holdin’ nuthin’, bitch!

A ratty car squeals to a stop at the curb beside them.

TWEEKETTE: It’s Jesse Pinkman, Street Therapist!

JESSE: I can help, yo!

TWEEKER: Got any blue?

JESSE: I’m outta that life, man. Now I do therapy to redeem myself, ‘cause if I know anything, it’s meth-heads. But I do my therapy on the street, ‘cause I’m still an outlaw.

TWEEKER: I really need some blue, man!

JESSE: And I need a state medical license, but the DEA ain’t gonna let that happen either. What’s the problem here?

TWEEKETTE: Tweeker’s holdin’ out on me!

TWEEKER: For the last time, I ain’t holdin’, bitch!

JESSE: Hey! Don’t call her a bitch, bitch!

TWEEKETTE: And stop holdin’ out on me!

JESSE: Meet her needs, yo!

TWEEKETTE: He never tells me what he’s got hidden away in there!

JESSE: Narrate that fat stack of feelings!

TWEEKER: But all she wants is the blue, man!

JESSE: Yo, the blue is just a cover for your deeper issue.

TWEEKETTE: Oh, it’s all about the blue!

JESSE: It is not about the blue, alright?! And what’s with you expecting him to take care of you? You got, like, daddy issues or something?

TWEEKETTE: I don’t have daddy issues!

JESSE: Hey, I know daddy issues, okay? So no more half-measures. We’re going full DMV-2067 psychosociable science here.


JESSE: Yo, this is science! Like, with beakers and robots and shit. Let’s try a role play –

Tweekette pulls a gun on Tweeker.

TWEEKETTE: Gimme your blue, Tweeker!

JESSE: So not what I had in mind…

TWEEKER: Pinkman! Help!

JESSE: What, you think I got some magnet hidden away here to pull that gun from your old lady’s hands?!

TWEEKETTE: I said gimme the blue!

JESSE: She’s got a gun, bitch! Give it to her!

Tweekette shoots Tweeker.

JESSE: Yeah… Um… I’m gonna give you a referral.

Jesse peels out, fleeing the scene.

TWEEKETTE: I shoulda stayed in grad school…

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

24: Trek Another Day

Apparently, Yeoman Janice Rand in the original Star Trek series was the Chloe O'Brian of her day...

Damned rips in the space-time continuum, always switching people in parallel universes...