Rules for Writing, Stellar Dorks, and two *perfect* striped t-shirts
Hello my favorite people!
Here we are in April already. Everything is blooming, and I just got cussed out by a stranger for talking too loudly on the phone. ♥️🌸😁
I’m happy to report that I’m 30-odd pages into my new screenplay. It’s rough, you guys, like roughhhh, but it’s slowly shaping into something. It’s not about Antarctic exploration—my ode to the Shackleton book in last month’s letter may have been misleading—but it is about explorers, sort of. And disparate personalities thrown together in very close quarters.
I’m writing parts for Lupita Nyong’o and Rosario Dawson, because why not. Carrie Fisher was a big inspiration for the aging rock star character in the last script, and she carried me through four drafts (no pun intended). (Get it, Carrie, carried?? But seriously, no pun intended.) It helps to hear a very particular voice in my head. Otherwise, all the characters wind up sounding like me.
In other writing news, I joined a group. I will just admit right now... I dread the weekly meetings. We start off by checking in; we’re each supposed to take 10 or 15 minutes to talk about what we’re working on, and it gets dull on this end, lemme tell you.
I say, “Welp. I’m trying to write for an hour every morning before I go to work.”
And they say, “How’s it going?”
And I say, “Fine. I mean, it’s not any good yet. But...”
And that’s all I have to say, really.
Then we sit there and write. Which, in the evening? The worst. And then we check in again. I kid you not.
“How’d it go?”
Like, what could the answer possibly be?
“It went great. I FINISHED my script, actually.”
??
I don’t mean to be an asshole. I really like these women. And each time I go, I come away with some little nugget of wisdom.
For example, one journalist-turned-screenwriter told us when she was doing long-form reporting she had a rule that she had to write a thousand new words every day before she was allowed to go back and edit. I’ve been trying to follow this rule. Write one fucking page before I’m allowed to go back and tweak... It’s so tempting to start by reading through what I’ve got, and tinkering, and then there it goes. My hour is over.
Contrast this with a rule for screenwriting, that comes, indirectly, from the creator of a verrry successful Amazon series: Big things have to happen on page 5, 15 and 30. This is non-negotiable. And you must reach a turning point within the first 15 pages. So of course that made me go back to the beginning and tweak. I’ve been tweaking for the last four days. I’ve got to lead up to that TURNING POINT.
Anyhoo.
I like rules, even when they conflict with each other.
*****
This month in clothing: I bought the perfect pants and two perfect striped t-shirts (1, 2) (also available here and here). For more on what I’m wearing and some deadly serious thoughts on the idea of the “capsule wardrobe,” you can read a convo I did with Meghan Nesmith over on The Billfold.
This month in movies: Louder Than Bombs, Joachim Trier’s English-language debut, opens in theaters this week, and it is terrific. The acting is so so good, especially in the awkward, funny, painful exchanges between the dorky 15-year-old kid and his dorky 30-year-old brother (played by Jesse Eisenberg, Stellar Dork). I also so appreciated that the central character—the one the men revolve around—is a flawed, ambitious, emotionally distant WOMAN. What a refreshing change.
This month in tacos: R and I and our friend H made a trip out to Colonia Tacos Guisados, in Whittier. The doradito, a crunchy potato taco, was good, and R really liked the vampiros, but my favorite was the tesmole, a super tender chicken taco made with a tomato-based “seed salsa.” Delicious. The shrimp ceviche was also top notch. (Note: This is a pretty casual joint. They don’t have a liquor license, but if you bring a bottle of vodka—or mezcal!—nobody will stop you from slipping a little into your agua fresca.)
*****
xoxo,
Laramie
p.s. Please forward this to your favorite emotionally distant woman. KIDDING! I’m kidding. Fwd to whoever you want.
Here we are in April already. Everything is blooming, and I just got cussed out by a stranger for talking too loudly on the phone. ♥️🌸😁
I’m happy to report that I’m 30-odd pages into my new screenplay. It’s rough, you guys, like roughhhh, but it’s slowly shaping into something. It’s not about Antarctic exploration—my ode to the Shackleton book in last month’s letter may have been misleading—but it is about explorers, sort of. And disparate personalities thrown together in very close quarters.
I’m writing parts for Lupita Nyong’o and Rosario Dawson, because why not. Carrie Fisher was a big inspiration for the aging rock star character in the last script, and she carried me through four drafts (no pun intended). (Get it, Carrie, carried?? But seriously, no pun intended.) It helps to hear a very particular voice in my head. Otherwise, all the characters wind up sounding like me.
In other writing news, I joined a group. I will just admit right now... I dread the weekly meetings. We start off by checking in; we’re each supposed to take 10 or 15 minutes to talk about what we’re working on, and it gets dull on this end, lemme tell you.
I say, “Welp. I’m trying to write for an hour every morning before I go to work.”
And they say, “How’s it going?”
And I say, “Fine. I mean, it’s not any good yet. But...”
And that’s all I have to say, really.
Then we sit there and write. Which, in the evening? The worst. And then we check in again. I kid you not.
“How’d it go?”
Like, what could the answer possibly be?
“It went great. I FINISHED my script, actually.”
??
I don’t mean to be an asshole. I really like these women. And each time I go, I come away with some little nugget of wisdom.
For example, one journalist-turned-screenwriter told us when she was doing long-form reporting she had a rule that she had to write a thousand new words every day before she was allowed to go back and edit. I’ve been trying to follow this rule. Write one fucking page before I’m allowed to go back and tweak... It’s so tempting to start by reading through what I’ve got, and tinkering, and then there it goes. My hour is over.
Contrast this with a rule for screenwriting, that comes, indirectly, from the creator of a verrry successful Amazon series: Big things have to happen on page 5, 15 and 30. This is non-negotiable. And you must reach a turning point within the first 15 pages. So of course that made me go back to the beginning and tweak. I’ve been tweaking for the last four days. I’ve got to lead up to that TURNING POINT.
Anyhoo.
I like rules, even when they conflict with each other.
*****
This month in clothing: I bought the perfect pants and two perfect striped t-shirts (1, 2) (also available here and here). For more on what I’m wearing and some deadly serious thoughts on the idea of the “capsule wardrobe,” you can read a convo I did with Meghan Nesmith over on The Billfold.
This month in movies: Louder Than Bombs, Joachim Trier’s English-language debut, opens in theaters this week, and it is terrific. The acting is so so good, especially in the awkward, funny, painful exchanges between the dorky 15-year-old kid and his dorky 30-year-old brother (played by Jesse Eisenberg, Stellar Dork). I also so appreciated that the central character—the one the men revolve around—is a flawed, ambitious, emotionally distant WOMAN. What a refreshing change.
This month in tacos: R and I and our friend H made a trip out to Colonia Tacos Guisados, in Whittier. The doradito, a crunchy potato taco, was good, and R really liked the vampiros, but my favorite was the tesmole, a super tender chicken taco made with a tomato-based “seed salsa.” Delicious. The shrimp ceviche was also top notch. (Note: This is a pretty casual joint. They don’t have a liquor license, but if you bring a bottle of vodka—or mezcal!—nobody will stop you from slipping a little into your agua fresca.)
*****
xoxo,
Laramie
p.s. Please forward this to your favorite emotionally distant woman. KIDDING! I’m kidding. Fwd to whoever you want.
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