Eric Staggs: Writer

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How many of you have seen the recent film “Role Models?” (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0430922/) You’ll notice it had five writers working on the script. In film lingo, “and” means the two worked together on the project. The “ & “ means the second person re-wrote the script. When you see something like this:

…it means the script was written by a committee and is likely to suck since we all know that a group of people can’t really do anything. Don’t believe me? Have three people order a pizza and try to get everyone what they want. It doesn’t work. Someone will have to give.

I digress.

What follows is an excerpt from a story I wrote in early (February) 2006, for my final “Fiction Seminar” course, my senior year of my undergraduate program.

“Morning, I slow-drift into the Starbucks on the corner. Despite everything I know about Starbucks, it still means only one thing to me: coffee.

The sights and sounds are all alien to me, but I can smell coffee. I do not like coffee, but I need it. Entering the place, I find tall men, in black wool coats, scarves and newspapers. They drink things, the mill about. Women, hawk faces with too much make-up, too much perfume, like some sort of poisonous flower. So oddly attractive, you are drawn to it, and when you touch it or breath it in, the trap is sprung. The thick pollen sets in your innards and festers. You’ll never be free of it.

There is a line and a woman-girl in a Starbucks uniform takes my order well before I get to the register. Efficiency. Blinking the tentacles of Chanel from my eyes, I turn and reply.

“Medium coffee please.”

Moments later I’m at the register. A boy-man stares at me. “You had the venti?”

“What? I don’t speak latin.”

“What?” He stares.

“Venti. Sounds latin. I guess it could be Spanish. I could probably speak Spanish.”

He looks at me.

“What, Sir?”

“You know, Spanish? I could probably speak it. Like, hola, gracias, su casa es me banyo, that sorta shit.”

“Sir, did you order a venti coffee?”

“I ordered a medium coffee.”

“That’s what venti means.”

“No it doesn’t. I lied to you before. I speak a little Latin. Venti means to come. I doubt it means medium in Spanish either.” He stared. I went on.

“Come to think of it, medium means medium in Latin. At least, medi, medius, mediam.”

Behind me, a voice. “What hell is your problem buddy?”

I turn to face a tall man in a black wool long coat. He looks, funny to me, so I half smile.

“My problem is that this kid is making up words. And I’m dying.”

I put three dollars on the counter, grab my medium coffee and leave.”

The story was submitted to the instructor, Antonia Rose Logue, and shared with ten other students for their review and critique. I also published the original version of the story on LiveJournal (Feb. 6th, 2006 at 2:38 PM). Considering the copies that were made and distributed for the class, there is no end to possibilities of who saw the original story.

Watch the film “Role-Models.”

Tell me, then, honestly, if they stole my scene. Then, tell me what I can do about it…

Being something of a mythology researcher, I’ve found no mention in Christian Biblical Lore about angels becoming mortal when they cut off their wings. In fact, this is an invention of the writer/director Kevin Smith. So, right off the bat, the basis for the film Legion is something Kevin Smith coughed up between bong hits.

The rest of the plot is a mish-mash stolen from films like The Prophecy, revolving about the classic “Hold-Out-And-Run” template. Aliens, 30 Days of Night, Dawn of the Dead (remake), The Mist and about a thousand other films of the genre share the same “story” arc; the characters are presented with an impossible challenge, one steels their wills to survive and they fortify until they realize they must move to stay alive. This decision invariably costs the characters that which they sought so hard to preserve – each other.

An ensemble piece, the cast of characters were there merely to add to the body count. Their deaths however, were nothing less than ignoble, usually getting chewed up by some file-toothed “angel” who has inhabited a human body.

The details of the plot are inconsequential – God wants to kill humans, but the Archangel Michael disagrees. Gabriel flies down after an hour of forced character development and begins to kick ass.

As a writer, you are obligated not to assault your audience’s sense of plausibility. Many will argue the “suspension of disbelief” is elastic and should be stretched – if I can accept that angels are real, I should be able to accept that angels would swoop down and enact God’s will.

However, this film left so many loop holes, even the most devout may begin to question their faith. The only new elements added to the archangels arsenal were bladed, bullet proof wings (stolen, if I remember correctly, from a Marvel Comics character named Archangel) and of course, a mace straight from the MI6 labs – a bludgeoning weapon that whirred and twisted and changes shape, extended and transformed, though likely too heave for even the new James Bond to heft, he was no doubt drooling over the versatility of this ridiculous weapon.

To spoil an already predictable plot, the good guys win and Michael gets his wings back, having taught the omniscient and omnipotent God a lesson in mercy. Gabriel flies off, beaten and the main characters, a trailer-park hussy/new mother and a bumpkin named Jeep (whose only heroic act was to machine-gun a child possessed by an angel) drive off into the post apocalypse desert to rebuild humanity, enacting a sloppy Joseph and Mary/Post Flood analog.

Overall, a  forgettable film.

While I, and perhaps other members of the audience were expecting something more akin to a mystery, I found myself delighting in the pacing. The lightning quick scene-to-scene action slowly but surely redefined Holmes and the indefatigable Watson. There were moments in the film where I felt they were more like Dr. Hunter S. Thompson and His Attorney, than the legendary sleuth.

The dismissal of layered mystery and sub-plot worked for this action adventure film. Sherlock, it seems, has been re-invented.

Reader’s will notice I always gloss over the acting. Well, I’m not changing my pattern. Downey Jr. was excellent, as well as Jude Law, both tried and true performers. I expected no less. In fact, considering their past roles, this might have been a screw-off project for them. Supporting cast was adequate. (Sidenote: I’ve heard rumors that Brad Pitt is cast as Moriarty – dashing my own aspirations – while Pitt has performed some excellent roles, it is my belief that he needs heavy interaction with the director – how else could you explain his “blah” portrayal of Achilles, perhaps the most archetypical character in the history of man?)

A mystery/thriller necessarily must play upon the audiences limited perspective, elsewise we would figure out the mystery well ahead of the main character. Thus, during the big reveal, we see Holmes’ perception of details the audience simply wasn’t shown. That’s cheating.

All said, I loved the film, it will definitely go into my Blu-Ray collection, right next to Iron Man.

The moon watched as I devoured a Nutroll, the nuts cracking and shattering as I chomped, crumbs piling around me, landing on the slick surface of my grim obsidian desk.

I hunkered down and she crept up higher in the sky to keep eyes on what I was doing. I devoured the candy.  The salt from the Nutroll was making me lick my lips. The goo in the center of the candy bar was sticking in my teeth and I was moving my mouth and cheeks in an effort to dislodge the tooth decayer. But I couldn’t give up the salt, so both efforts, the salt removal and the sticky candy-goo removal took twice as long.

The moon watched while I feasted like a dog.

Some hardcore film folk will suggest this is the down fall of cinema, the day the actor and director no longer interface is that day we’re all watching cartoons written my mad children.

And I would tend to agree. Jar-Jar Binks is my primary evidence.

But Avatar, all three hours of it, was something special. The plot itself was simple – to quote my uncle “a child could have written it,” and that’s okay. Most of the best stories are those that we all understand on a primal level. This film was nothing more complicated than Dances With Wolves in space. Which is okay too, since Alien was Jaws in Space and Attack of the Clones was just Star Wars in space (that last one was a joke).

The plot, essentially runs like this – Marine agent goes native. Saves people. Aside from the spectacular setting, there was nothing new or interesting about the story itself. Ancient as the plot may have been, it resonates with audiences because of some very simple and all too human elements: loss.

A sub-textual critique of the plight of Native American peoples can easily be read into Cameron’s somewhat heavy-handed action flick, but the secondary plot thread is entirely unnecessary.

I was disappointed to see that Cameron’s treat of space marines has changed little since the days of Aliens – the jarheads are mostly without conscience and still even talk the same. “Get some!” seems to be a common phrase in all centuries of Jim Cameron’s military vision. While I find his view of our own warrior caste somewhat two dimensional, I must applaud is continued use of powered armor.

Plausibility was kept at an all time high for a sci-fi action flick, and lord in heaven, this was a beautiful film. Simply gorgeous to look at.

I won’t comment on the acting. Sigourney Weaver is a professional who simply cannot deliver a poor performance. Our hero did most of his work in voice over mode, as well as the love interest. Michele Rodriguez (of Resident Evil fame) is sassy and sharp, but her character was a combination of Vasquez and Ferro from Aliens (can Jim never leave LV-426 behind?)

I think she meant that I didn’t just spout off for a grade like the other students. The truth was, I seldom had anything good to say.

Tim Waggoner’s Thieves of Blood: Blade of the Flame read’s like an introductory page from a Dungeons and Dragon’s Gaming book. The exposition nearly bowls a person over, and the character archetypes offer nothing new to readers.

That said, if this book is classed as young adult fiction, or used as the marketing piece it was obviously intended to be, it’s a total success. Those not familiar with the Eberron campaign setting will find the book enlightening. Another refreshing aspect of Waggoner’s approach is his general lack of an “origins” story. He simply starts in with two pre-existing characters and allows their histories, though somewhat two-dimensional they may be, to unfold naturally for the reader.

Another thing the writer’s done here, which I appreciate greatly, is create a literary adventure, a time filler for young adults, that needs neither electricity or software.

B+

I’m sure it has. “Never write the solo person in one room. Nothing happens.” There’s some sense in the advice too – unless of course you’re me. Right now, my office is three stories above my library. Which is now conveniently referred to as Archives.

The room I currently occupy, much like the T.A.R.D.I.S., has the ability to transport me, my trusty laptop (named Hera – she runs Vista, what can I say) and any additional accoutrements I may need to wherever I see fit. Currently, we’re planning a trip past the pleasure planet Teytruis. I’ll leave the sordid details of my stop to your imagination.

Then, I think we’ll swing around towards the galaxy. I want to see this “Super Massive Black hole” for myself.

I read “Death by Black hole” by Neil DeGrasse Tyson (an excellent read, by the by) about a year ago, and since then, I’ve been chomping to get see this thing close up (relatively speaking).

Any another thing, since at the point of singularity, all laws of physics break down and we can’t really see past the event horizon in a black hole (because you know, it’s a black hole), that means the singularity could look like anything.

I vote for dinosaurs.

Today at Border’s, as my inner masochist took over, I stood in line watching a creepy old man lean over the counter, asking the little girl if he could use his coupon, even though he didn’t have it with him.

To most mortals, the answer would have been no. Simply put, the coupon is a prerequisite of the discount. But this old man, beer bellied and righteous, his salt and pepper beard, oddly straight comb-over and weathered shoes thought it possible that his mere presence would be enough to command a discount.

The poor little girl behind the counter didn’t know what to do. To her, it was obvious: physical coupon is a prerequisite of monetary discount. That’s why they are called coupons. Else we might all wander through the retail world, demanding that store owners lower their prices. Not a bad idea – I think it was called haggling back in the day and though you can haggle with the IRS, Cable Company and Hospitals, you cannot haggle with McDonald’s, Gamestop or Macy’s. Isn’t that odd?

Anyway, the resolution to this unfolding Border’s Bookstore drama was simple: Say NO or say YES. The little girl, new to the position (obviously hired holiday help) could barely work the register, let alone offer solid advice on the store policy regarding the presence of non-presence of emailed coupons to Border’s Rewards members.

In her situation, thinking some money is better than no money, I would have given the old codger his discount, sent him away happy, and got the line moving again. From her point of view, she wanted to do the right thing, so she called the manager. Who was busy.

You can all guess how the rest of this played out in lengthy detail. When I finally made my purchase, I presented said coupon (understanding that coupon is a prerequisite of discount), followed by my Border’s Rewards card, and then my credit card. One, two, three. I for lack of a better term, am a well prepared consumer.

So well prepared in fact, that I refuse to do shopping for anyone in the month of December. Everything, and I mean everything, can be done online.

Gift Ideas
Often we’re at a loss for what to purchase someone. Parents and grandparents are especially difficult to buy for. They tend to have everything they need. So, we wander into a store, hoping we’ll see some odd product that we could never have thought of otherwise. But, a simple Google check will provide the same thing. In fact, the Google for gifts is better, because hundreds, if not thousands of merchants are jockeying for your business. Specialized sites for just about any person you could be buying for exist, with links to products, gadgets, books, t-shirts, key chains (I bought myself a Robotech keychain just the other day) and all manner of items, junkwise or other.

Gift-wrapping
Men! Pay special attention here. Most sites will gift wrap things for you. Holy hamburgers in a blender! What more could you ask for? It’s worth the two bucks. Trust me.

Delivery
If you’re reading this and thinking “Yeah, I’ll have it all delivered and wrapped and my Christmas shopping is taken care of…” you’re about two weeks to late. As with all things, order early. Now you’ll be paying a premium to get your gifts on time. If they even arrive. As I once said to a disgruntled women trying to order “American Girl” dolls for her granddaughter “Little Suzy’s birthday happens the same time every year. You can’t order the day before and expect it to arrive on time. You’ll have to explain to her why her gifts are late.”

The Short List
The best places to shop online are listed below, and by the seventh of December, you might even be able to still get things delivered.

1. Amazon.com
Perhaps the finest and most powerful online shopping experience known to man, Amazon has everything. Videogames, cookware, books, DVDs, I’ve heard rumors you can even get Russian Brides somewhere, in the deep links.

2. Serenityhealth.com
These fine folks have been in business for years, specializing in healthy, relaxation gifts. Their products are almost as wide and varied as Amazon’s, except with a more “you-centric” focus. Water fountains, designer candles, quality bean bags, wind chimes, hammocks, the list literally, goes on and on. The added bonus is these folks will fill your order the same day and do their best to make the holiday for you.

3. Walgreens.com
Without compare, this website has everything. From valium (sorry you need a script to order the good stuff) to the irascible Snuggie, Walgreens has everything. They’ve even got “adult products” available on their website. And really, who doesn’t want a Chia-Obama or Slap-Chop as seen on TV?

Back in the primordial mist of self-indulgent web-publishing, blogs were a sort of anonymous, online journal, where someone could write their terrible secrets, post their gruesome thoughts, rant about their hatreds, gush about their crushes, wax vitriolic about their employers, politicians and auto-mechanics.

Somewhere along the way, a very clever person (we have no proof they were really a person – it might have been a pixie, nixie, sprite, faerie, gremlin, goblin, bugbear or imp) figured out that Google rates web-sites on content, relevance and authority.

Then, as if over night, blogging became big business, professional whiners (of which I occasionally classify myself) burst onto the scene, and became experts.

While it’s true, my fifty-plus credits in story, plot, characterization, pacing, method and writing craft, screenwriting and all the rest of it may make me more of an authority than the Fat-beard at the Comic Shop whose most insightful criticism is akin to “Best  Van Damme film ever.” I’m no more an expert than the next guy.*

As I peruse the blogosphere (which the Micro$oft dictionary considers a word apparently) I’m finding thousands of experts, all shouting their opinions on film, politics, literature, poetry, religion, tacos.

This isn’t what blogs are about. Blogs should be about fun – reading some else’s dirty laundry, the voyeuristic rush of peeking into the lives of others, what I call the “Delicate Art of the Human Spectacle.”

No sane person hits up a blog to learn how to re-wire their home! Or how to fix the plumbing from their septic tank to the new guest toilet! Imagine, some greasy handed plumber, sitting down with his morning Chai tea and powering up his Mac Awesomebook and composing a step by step instructional blog for his website (cleverly titled something like Betweenthecrack.com) on how to install proper piping for your pooper. He might order a bagel with lox (gag) while his fat, sausage-like fingers hammer away, struggling to hit the proper keys,  wondering when to use Ergo, Id Est and Exempli Gratia in his rather terse prose.

Yeah. Right.

Not only would said plumber be putting himself out of business by sharing his hard earned knowledge and trade secrets with his eager readers,  but typically, plumbers tend not to be literati.**

I say let’s bring back the spectacle. let’s get some of that Gutspill.com, visceral, reality-show, blogging going on. Let’s hear about your vicious aunt or your drunk cousin, or your mother-in-law who just knows you’re a bad mom… come on folks the holidays are the most psychologically trying times our culture has manufactures. Let’s see some spectacle…

*Okay, that’s not entirely true, I went college to become an expert on those things, but I think my point is valid.

**Obviously, this is a generalization not meant to offend any intelligentsia plumbers who might be reading.

***Second post with Micro$oft Writer, I’m not possessed nor indentured, yet.