Farty Arty

I was in a high school art room all day, making the BIG BUCKS, and trying to throw together five new scenes for my stop animation.

The process with this movie has been long and convoluted and fascinating, but the most unexpected thing about it is how conventional the whole route to production has been.

1. Premise
2. Brainstorm the plot and character arcs
3. Sketch out the characters (literally in this case, since I had to build them)
4. Build the characters (again, literally)
5. Build the backdrops
6. Test shots
7. Change lighting/location to work better, tweak the characters
8. Write the entire script
9. More test shots
10. Storyboard (20 pictures/3 minute movie!)
11. Revamp the storyboard to add scenes that actually show the characters' inner lives
12. Revamp the script
13. Build new sets/add props

Still need to:
14. Finish all props (ie, make rain. Claymation rain)
15. Finalize lighting and equipment (ie, wires for all the dangly things)
16. SHOOT!
17. Edit the visuals
18. Record sound effects
19. Write soundtrack
20. Record soundtrack
21. Final edit
22. Production icon.

Have I left anything out?!

Now, albeit, I haven't done everything in conventional order...which has cost me a lot of time and effort, but which is unavoidable in a learning experience like this. The point is: I've since learned the conventional process is probably the fastest way a newbie can get from point A to point B still all in one piece

I'd figured that because this was a three minute short, it could be throw together--in other words, that it wasn't a real movie. Figured, this was a week, two-week process. It's been months! My only "excuse"? Hubris...

But, on the other hand, I LOVE IT! Making things with my hands again, thinking in visuals, being on the path to a *finished* product, as opposed to a draft (even a "final" draft! Everyone knows those are never final...). This is right. It's for me. And even after going through this long, convoluted process, I love my vision, and believe I can do it justice. I still know: this is worth it.

Anatomy of a Three Minute Film

Tomorrow, I'm taking the last standardized test of my life-- and beginning film on my clay creature stop animation.

I got the story idea sometime in the early spring. Brainstormed with my cousin when I went to visit family in France in last May-- that's when it started to coalesce. Everyone was so enthusiastic, I felt like I had to make the film.

In June, I wrote the script and made my first sketches of the clay creatures.

In July I made the creatures.

In August, everything just sat-- I started wondering if I was really going to do this.

But in September, I happened to mention it to my mentor, and she seemed enthusiastic. I promised I would have it ready for her to see in a week.

Of course, I didn't. But in the last three weeks I've been building the set, researching stop animation, and watching as much short-film stop animation possible.

I'm setting everything (creature, set, camera) up tonight, and taking a few shots to get a feel for it. Tomorrow afternoon/evening, here I come! The goal is to get all shots done (about 2,200-2,700) by Tuesday. Yeah, it's basically impossible-- 700-800 shots/day, for three days. One of those days I'm taking the GRE, the next I'm going pumpkin picking, and the next I'm working.

But this coming week, I want to concentrate on editing, so it's absolutely got to get done. This is turning out to be a project I'm proud of, and I want a chance to show it off-- in time for Halloween, in time for meeting up with my former professors, and in time to show my film-making credentials to my possible writing partner!

Hmmm-- got something to prove, don't I?

Collaboration and Control

After writing class on Saturday, I got coffee with a fellow student.

Our manuscripts are both skirting the edge of literary/horror and both have a medical tinge. We're both twenty-odd years younger than anyone else in class. Turns out, we also were both taught by the same teachers at the same university at the same time. Ok, she graduated *one* year ahead of me.

It was bliss talking shop to somebody else in my boat. Some who is

1. serious enough about writing to make social and financial sacrifices in an effort to make it her number one priority-- and who is in for the long haul;

2. has the training to know the basics and the jargon that makes critique so much easier and friendlier;

3. has the curiosity and imagination to do fascinating and in-depth research, as well as using the world around her as inspiration;

4. is open-minded enough to not worry about being low-brow; and

5. is my age! I never knew before trying out these writers' groups and classes how different our aesthetic is from people even ten, fifteen years older... it was a relief to be around someone who wouldn't be confused at a literary jump-cut, or flinch at melodrama or super-human violence. Not to say everyone in their early to mid twenties has the same aesthetic-- but I do find a disconnect between how people my age and people even a decade older understand stories.

We started talking scripts, and are currently doing research so we can beat out a story in a couple weeks-- the idea is phenomenal (or at least, it'll be fun and challenging to work on) and it's such a *relief* not to be in total control.

With this claymation project, it's all me: the story, the lights, the sound, the camera work, the set, the schedule, and on and on and on. With all my manuscripts and short stories, there are fewer logistics, but I still bare all responsibility. It's only my vision on the page.

Which is nice in it's way-- but it's also overwhelming--and lonely. *This* is why I thought television writing would be wonderful-- because collaboration is part of the joy. We write to communicate, right? It's easy to loose that when you have to spend all your time in your own little world, all by yourself. It's fascinating to layer visions-- the actors', director's, production crew, AND the writer's. In this case, writers'.

It'll be a new experience for me to collaborate (long-term) on a script, but so far it's invigorating. I would never have thought of this story alone, but it immediately sparked my imagination, and I do think I have a lot to add to our partnership. This will be an adventure, but the comradery alone is enough to make it exciting and worthwhile-- let alone all I have to learn from this woman, our project, and how we function as a team.