"Fucking Roger Morris"

2005-09-22T22:00:00.000-07:00

I'm in film school. I will withhold the name to protect the innocent (myself). So, I'm sitting in a class squished with 120 other wannabe filmmakers and we're learning script writing (easy). Our illustrious teacher lectures away, keep in mind he's a working filmmaker, he gives us the following advice:

TEACHER: "The following is what is called a slug line."
He writes on board: LECTURE HALL - INT. - DAY
TEACHER: "That is a slug line."
A student nicely raises his hand.
TEACHER: "Yes, Justin?"
Actually, it went...
A student nicely raises his hand.
TEACHER: "Yeah, you. The dopey looking kid in the Spongebob shirt.
Student looks around.
TEACHER: "You! You who's holding up your hand."
ME: "Oh. Ha, ha. I was just going to say that you have the slug line wrong."
TEACHER: "Excuse me?"
ME: "No. I don't mean any harm. I'm only a lonely film school student..."
TEACHER: "Yes you are. And who's the working professional?"
ME: "I don't know. You got me."
TEACHER: "Me. I'm the working professional. I know what I'm doing. It's correct."
After class he asks me into the hallway. We have a nice chat. He says he's sorry, that he did have the slug line wrong. Here, I'll let you listen...
TEACHER: "Who the fuck do you think you are?"
ME: "I'm..."
TEACHER: "I'm not asking. Don't you ever fucking correct me again."
ME: "But I didn't want one hundred and twenty students learning script writing the wrong way."
TEACHER: "I got it right. It's right. I'm a working professional!"
ME: "You keep saying that. But if you truly were a WORKING PROFESSIONAL you probably wouldn't live sixteen hours away from LA."
TEACHER: "And if you truly wanted to learn filmmaking you wouldn't go to a school sixteen hours away from LA."
He got me there.
TEACHER: "What's your name?"
ME: "Roger."
TEACHER: "Roger, what?"
ME: "Roger Morris."
TEACHER: "I'm watching you Roger Morris. And don't ever fucking correct me again. Cocky son of a bitch."
He walked away.

CLASS TWO:
Teacher lectures. Paces in front of the room.
TEACHER: "Who knows the correct length of a feature film script?"
He continues as if he wasn't really looking for an answer.
TEACHER: "110 to 120 is the standard."
A student nicely raises his hand. The teacher pauses.
TEACHER: "What is it Roger?"
Handsome student looks around. He's the only one holding up his hand. Then who's Roger?
TEACHER: "Roger Morris. You, the dopey looking kid wearing that Finding Nemo headband."
Oops. It occurs to me that my "name" is Roger Morris.
ME: "Actually, the headband's a joke I was playing on a friend. I just forgot to take it off. Thanks for reminding me. (I laugh... awkward).
TEACHER: "Uh huh."
ME: "I believe the answer you're looking for is 90 to 120 pages for a standard script."
TEACHER: "No, actually you're wrong."
ME: "If I'm wrong, then ten thousand other documents are wrong. Cause that's what I read."
TEACHER: "Yes, they're wrong."
ME: "Yep. They're wrong."
TEACHER: "Uh huh. Sometimes scripts will be less, for instance, a low-budget producer, but the standard is 110."
ME: " You mean less as in down to 90?"
TEACHER: "That's correct."
ME: "So why don't you say no lower than 90 pages? Much more clearer instead of 110 but can be lower...."
TEACHER: "Are you still talking?"
ME: "Yeah, actually I am."
The teacher continued on. I sat there with my Finding Nemo headband in my pocket.

I love school. Sometimes I wonder... Especially all the students who would be getting this info wrong. But I digress. I do feel I got the last laugh though, because unbeknownst to him, his wrong slug lines and page count, one of my characters in a script of mine is named Roger Morris. The character replies to him, "Fucking Roger Morris." And in my sick and twisted mind, I find the best way to get people back is by doing it with the exact things they're arguing about. He just got bitchslapped by one of my characters in one of my "properly" formatted scripts with the "proper" page count. By the way, I can't wait for screenwriting class to start next year!

"I'm a rockstar, I'm a cowboy. Everybody sing along."

2005-09-22T21:00:00.000-07:00

"Yee ha! Well, now, swing your partner round and round, spring her on the butt and spin her all around."

That describes me perfectly. My state. My life. No, no, it doesn't. It doesn't describe anything about me, really. I'll confess, I'm listening to a Big and Rich song as I write this. Pretty good. Pretty, pretty, pretty good (Don't question my music tastes yet.). So, here I am. A new blog on the internet. The world-wide-web (add echos and a deep-voiced-man for effect). To be honest, I've thought about writing a blog for some time. I even have a lot of blog ideas. So I'll be blogging a lot in the immediate future. Why do I deserve a blog? I don't. To be honest, I just want to get hate-mail and a lot of it. I find a few good hate-mail letters really motivating. It gets me saying, "I'll show you assholes I can be something! I'll make it!" You know, prove 'em wrong! You'll find that I write in first person (duh!), add a lot of extra comments (as if we couldn't figure that out), could careless about my grammer and punctuational skills (Okay, I must confess, I'm usually a stickler. But, one, since this is my world, I'm not going to care. Two, since I'm already writing so much during the day, so much that has to be perfect, it feels good to write something that doesn't have to be perfect! To just write.). And I write in short sentences. Why? Oh, I don't know. It's fun. It gives the feeling of dialogue. It helps me answer myself in less typing.

About me? By the way, I will talk to myself. And answer. Well, I'm crazy. I'm nineteen. What?!? I know. Young, dumb and innocent. That's my motto. In real life, you know that place I avoid like the plague (see, I really am a writer!), I am actually quite shy and reserved. Honest. I won't even look you in the eye (see, I really am a... oh, I already said that). But here, in annonymous cyber-space, I can be whatever I want. An egotistical jerk. A porn addict (I'm really not, mom). Or, even a screenwriter. Yes, you heard right folks, I consider myself a screenwriter. Contrary to people thinking you actually having to sell as script to be considered one, I don't.

But this blog isn't how to write scripts. There's plenty of them for that, johnaugust.com (when he isn't writting letters to THE GOVENAH) and don't forget the invaluable wordplayer.com (which I don't think ever gets updated - other than the impossible-to-use forums) and scriptsales.com (which is a writers paradise, just don't ask a dumb question in the forums ot they'll eat you to bits! I'm still recovering.). The last and final reason why this isn't a place on how to write scripts is because frankly, I couldn't tell ya. I have no idea. Write how you want to. I'm in no position to tell you how to write a script. Most days I'm still trying to figure it out. I feel each project, each script, is a new learning challenge. A new way to discover writing. To find your groove. Your way. Your style. Sure I have my theories and if you were to ask me a question I'd answer how I see fit. But, since you're not me, it might not help you.

What's the point of this blog? Who knows (actually, there is a secret covert reason for this blog, I just can't tell you... yet.). All I know is that I'm trying one. I'll give you the up close and personal accounts of a younger-than-average writer/actor/producer/director/hot chocolate lover making his way to that illustrious first sale, that illustrious first assignment, that illustrious first... whatever! I have contacts (Few. Very, very, few.). I have scripts (Few. Very, very, few.). I have passion (Lots!). Determination (Sometimes.). And a great desire to see Austrialia (Definitely!). So without further ado, welcome to my life. There's no going back!

"I got a spaceship, fully equiped, cause I'm a cowboy Stevie Wonder." - Big and Rich