We went to see "Enchanted" over the weekend. It was a great film! Fabulous! Everyone should go see it! But it needed a better action climax. So, I’ve decided to re-write it. Maybe they can use my action climax for “Enchanted: The Broadway Musical Stage Version.”
*** SPOILER WARNING ***
If you haven’t seen the film yet, STOP! Go see the movie, then come back and read my improved version:
NARISSA transforms herself into a fearsome purple CG dragon. Laughing maniacally, she throws back her scaly head.
NARISSA- Mwuf mworwr mummuffle mwom mwor!
ALL give her quizzical looks.
PRINCE- (to NARISSA) I beg your pardon, what was that?
NARISSA - (Sounding exactly like a falsetto version of Elliot in Pete’s Dragon) Wummor wum ruwowor wum morfurumuf!
(Suddenly NARISSA realizes she can’t speak. She goes through the exact reaction PIP wnet through earlier in the film, only much angrier. While she is ranting, PRINCE recovers his sword.)
NARISSA- Wummor wuf MWAR!
(NARISSA lunges for GISELLE, but PRINCE is there with his sword to block the attack. LAWYER pulls GISELLE to safety. NARISSA, sneering, amused, blows fire on PRINCE’s sword until it is too hot for him to hold.)
PRINCE- YOW! (Drops sword).
Cackling, Narissa creeps forward, intending to eat PRINCE. She is distracted by a violin bow striking her in the head. She turns to see HENCHMAN and several musicians using their stringed instruments to fire upon her. Furious, she turns on them. HENCHMAN dives under the grand piano just before NARISSA reduces it to matchwood. HENCHMAN scrambles out the other side, unscathed.
But NARISSA is no longer interested in HENCHMAN. She hunts around the room for PRINCE, and spots him showing his reddened sword hand to a sympathetic GISELLE . Meanwhile, NANCY has discovered the control panel for the chandelier. She flips the switch that will lower the chandelier. It is coming down far too slowly, so in frustration she whacks the control panel with her shoe. With a small explosion, the chandelier falls and drops directly on NARISSA’s head. NANCY is surprised by how effective the chandelier was. PRINCE looks impressed.
By the time NARISSA recovers from being hit by a chandelier, everyone has her surrounded with some form of makeshift weapon, a chair, a trombone, a bottle of champagne, what have you. Even the ball guests are ready to throw food. Realizing she can’t face so many opponents, NARISSA gives GISELLE a leer, grabs LAWYER and makes a spectacular exit through the window, knowing that GISELLE will follow her out onto the roof.
GISELLE- (Taking PRINCE’s sword, which is now cool enough to touch) I need to borrow this!
PRINCE- (Protesting) GISELLE!
GISELLE- (As she follows NARISSA out through the window, accidentally leaving behind a shoe) Go find PIP!
PRINCE is a little miffed that GISELLE would prefer a chipmunk’s help to his own, but he turns to HENCHMAN
HENCHMAN- Come on, he’s in the car.
The rest of the action climax proceeds as it does in the film, only shorter and better because the dragon doesn’t say anything.
See, now everyone is well motivated and we play a couple more of our favorite cliches. In fact, if they had wanted to, they could have had a really big fight scene in the ballroom and included a nod to every single Disney Princess Movie action climax that has come before. I would have loved it. Anything would have been better than listening to that dragon monologue-ing.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Exciting News!
The day before Thanksgiving I planned to do some baking. I wanted to get a head start on the day to come.
Then I went out to the mail box. I do have a few query letters out so going to get the mail holds that certain thrill of suspense. Lo and behold, I spotted a SASE! "Oh, what a shame," I said as I pulled it out. This wasn't about my novel. It was concerning a short story I had sent to the Friend magazine six weeks ago. I worked so hard on that story, I really thought they were going to buy it, and here it was, rejected.
As I got back in the house I began to get suspicious. The envelope didn't feel thick enough to have my whole manuscript in it. I opened it up, and out dropped a contract! They bought my story! They bought my story!
I didn't think I could get any happier, and then my brother Jon called to tell me he got the internship at Pixar Animation Studios! Click on his digital painting blog over there at the right to see his demo reel.
The last time I sold a story to a magazine was seven years ago. The day I got that letter I was trying to cook caramel flan. I was so excited I burned three batches of sugar in a row. This time, not wanting to serve my family scorched pies for Thanksgiving, I saved all the cooking for Thursday.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Vampire in Love
Shortly after reading Stephanie Meyer's "Twilight," I happened to be watching the Muppet Show episode where that blond headed girl singer performs "Teenager in Love" with a back up group of tall, pink furry monsters. Inspiration struck, and this was the result:
I'd like to dedicate this song to Edward, Bella, and all you Twilight fans out there:
Vampire in Love
Each time I want to bite you
It almost breaks my heart.
If I should suck you dry, dear
Then we would have to part!
Each night I ask the stars up above
Why must I be a vampire in love?
My looks have got you charmed, dear.
My diet makes you sad.
You'll have to learn to take
The good with the bad.
Each night I ask the stars up above
Why must I be a vampire in love?
My folks would like to meet you.
Come over for a bite.
But then they just might eat you,
And I'd be alone tonight.
Each night I ask the stars up above
Why must I be a vampire in love?
I'll cry a tear for no victim but you.
I'll be a lonely one if we can't see this through.
Well, if you want to become like me,
to do that won't be hard,
But then where would the fun be?
You're delicious as you are!
Each night I ask the stars up above
Why must I be a vampire in love?
Why must I be a vampire in love?
Why must I be a vampire in love?
Why must I be a vampire in love?
Note: Original lyrics to "Teenager in Love" are by Doc Pomus and Mort Shuman.
-RJC
Vampire in Love
Each time I want to bite you
It almost breaks my heart.
If I should suck you dry, dear
Then we would have to part!
Each night I ask the stars up above
Why must I be a vampire in love?
My looks have got you charmed, dear.
My diet makes you sad.
You'll have to learn to take
The good with the bad.
Each night I ask the stars up above
Why must I be a vampire in love?
My folks would like to meet you.
Come over for a bite.
But then they just might eat you,
And I'd be alone tonight.
Each night I ask the stars up above
Why must I be a vampire in love?
I'll cry a tear for no victim but you.
I'll be a lonely one if we can't see this through.
Well, if you want to become like me,
to do that won't be hard,
But then where would the fun be?
You're delicious as you are!
Each night I ask the stars up above
Why must I be a vampire in love?
Why must I be a vampire in love?
Why must I be a vampire in love?
Why must I be a vampire in love?
Note: Original lyrics to "Teenager in Love" are by Doc Pomus and Mort Shuman.
| To see Dion and the Belmonts singing the original, check out this classic clip: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SNYdcwunG7g |
-RJC
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
You Sunk My Battleship!
This morning while I was working on my amazon.com author profile, my two year old sunk my ten year old's aircraft carrier in the fish tank.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Samurai, Leopards, and Pirates, Oh My!
Today was a great day! Let me tell you about it!
Yesterday I had called everyone on the church choir roll who has showed up to practice at all in the past six weeks and told them that rehearsal would be at eight fifteen this morning. At eight o’clock this morning all my children were dressed and in the parlor for morning family prayer. After a song and a prayer I noticed that the two year old had gone missing. I found him at the sink, splashing, with his sleeves soaked to the elbow and the front of his dark blue shirt stuck to his belly with day-old dirty dish water. I had to run him upstairs and get him a fresh shirt.
At least he had a fresh shirt. There was a time when I would have had no choice but to take him to church in a wet shirt simply because there was no other Sunday shirt in his size. As I went upstairs I could see the black sock collection spread out on my bed. Every week I find myself hunting for at least one more match out of the basket, but there was a time when each child had only one pair of Sunday socks and if it was missing, too bad! There was a time when Russel and I got a big laugh out of an article that lamented that young families with only one income often had to get by on less than $30,000 a year, as if this were some great hardship. Oh wouldn’t it be nice to make $30,000 a year, we thought!
But now we all have extra shirts and extra socks, not necessarily because we have enough money to buy clothes now, but just because over the years I’ve amassed enough hand-me-downs from friends and neighbors. As I brought the toddler downstairs in a shirt that my friend Mati had handed down to him just two weeks ago, I heard the sound of a machine running in the garage. It didn’t quite sound like the car. I opened the door to the garage only to find my husband vacuuming up pieces of a shattered mason jar off the cement floor. I didn’t even ask.
When I got in the van I realized that the five year old had climbed over the back seat. I climbed back there to grab him. He was hiding under the old picnic blanket. As I pulled the blanket off I saw spots of scarlet on his white Sunday shirt! He was bleeding. I looked him over. Was his nose bleeding? No. His mouth? No. At last I spotted it. His ear was bleeding! He handed me a small, sharp piece that had broken off the handle of my big yellow pressure canner, explaining that it had cut him. Telling him once again that he was not to climb into the back of the van because he might get hurt by something, I pulled him into the house, took off his shirt, put it in the sink, and went upstairs to find him a fresh one.
At last we were all in the car with no broken glass waiting to pop the tires and everyone in a clean, dry shirt. Hunting for the booster seat, I looked in the back of the van again and saw four gallons of milk sitting there. Just sitting there! “Russel!” I bellowed. On our Friday night date, Russel had told me that we needed to stop at Albertsons on the way home because I hadn’t bought any milk when I went to Costco on Thursday. I couldn’t believe it. I was sure I had bought milk on Thursday. Four gallons of it. I could remember walking up to the milk case and loading it onto my cart, or was I remembering the week before? Had I really forgotten to get the milk? It was possible. I looked in my purse for my receipt, but I couldn’t find it. I wondered if I had left the milk in the cart in the parking lot. No, I thought, I would have seen it. Puzzled, I sat there and wondered when I had gone insane as we drove to Albertsons to pick up some milk.
The mystery milk had reappeared. Russel had left it in the van when he had brought in the rest of the groceries. “When did you first think I hadn’t bought any milk?” I asked after I had told him what I had found in the back of the van.
“When there wasn’t any in the kitchen to put into the fridge.” He said.
“Why didn’t you ask me about it then?” I demanded.
That, I guess, was a rhetorical question.
At last I just laughed, “Well, at least I know I’m not going insane.”
“No, I am,” Russel said with chagrin.
Twelve dollars down the drain!
By the time we started the car it was 8:20. We were late, but not later than the choir director.
The choir sang "Now Thank We All Our God" a capella. I love that song, and it sounded great.
In Primary, one of the little eight year olds got up to read. He had this great big Bible that he could barely manage. When he got it lying open on the podium he began to read the story of the ten lepers. But when he read it, it was the ten leopards. You see, Jesus was passing through Samurai. Ten leopards came and stood afar off and cried unto him, have mercy on us! When Jesus heard them he said, go and shew thyselves unto the pirates. And as they were going they were healed. And one of them turned back and glorified God, and he was a Samurai.
So if kids knew there were Samurai, leopards, and pirates in the Bible, maybe they would be more eager to read it!
I made biscuits and gravy for dinner. Afterwards, the toddler insisted on me holding him instead of washing dishes, so I called a friend to pass the time while I held the toddler in my lap. While I was on the phone the doorbell rang.
“It was Mati,” Russel said, “She brought these,” he had a plate of cinnamon rolls.
“Mati?” I cried, “Stop her!”
“Too late,” Russel said, but I was already charging for the entry way. I grabbed the cheese grater off the little candle shelf just as her tail lights were pulling out of the view through the front door. Out the door and down the sidewalk I ran, “Mati!” I shouted, waving the grater in the air, “I have your cheese grater!” She didn’t see me.
I left Mati a message on her answering machine thanking her for the rolls and telling her I tried to chase her down with a cheese grater.
“Dad said he enjoyed your article,” my husband told me. He was on the phone for his weekly call to the folks.
“My article?” I asked, “The one in Toccare?” I was surprised. That wouldn’t come out until December. How had he seen it?
“I guess,” Russel said. “The Revolutionary Alarm Clock?”
“You mean they used my story?” I asked. This was another matter entirely, “They printed it in BYU Magazine?” I had submitted that story so long ago I had forgotten about it. I figured they would let me know if they were going to print it or not, so I gave up on thinking about it months ago.
They did print my story! I got the first slot on the page, and a very cute illustration! I want that cartoon of college student me napping in the grass with a back pack for a pillow for my web site! Click here to go take a look! I was so excited I called my mom. I could hear my sister in the background groaning when she found out that they hadn’t told me they were going to use it. They owe me fifty dollars! That’s the most I’ve ever made on a piece of writing.
To top off the day, I took the cover off my big harp for the first time in months. I had just volunteered to play background music at the church Christmas dinner in three weeks, and figured it was time to start practicing. After I replaced a string, tuned up, and tightened the screws on all the levers, Russel ran upstairs and got his new penny whistle! Whee! I had so much fun playing carols with him. Maybe the two of us should play together at the dinner.
Oh happy day! When have I had so much fun?
Yesterday I had called everyone on the church choir roll who has showed up to practice at all in the past six weeks and told them that rehearsal would be at eight fifteen this morning. At eight o’clock this morning all my children were dressed and in the parlor for morning family prayer. After a song and a prayer I noticed that the two year old had gone missing. I found him at the sink, splashing, with his sleeves soaked to the elbow and the front of his dark blue shirt stuck to his belly with day-old dirty dish water. I had to run him upstairs and get him a fresh shirt.
At least he had a fresh shirt. There was a time when I would have had no choice but to take him to church in a wet shirt simply because there was no other Sunday shirt in his size. As I went upstairs I could see the black sock collection spread out on my bed. Every week I find myself hunting for at least one more match out of the basket, but there was a time when each child had only one pair of Sunday socks and if it was missing, too bad! There was a time when Russel and I got a big laugh out of an article that lamented that young families with only one income often had to get by on less than $30,000 a year, as if this were some great hardship. Oh wouldn’t it be nice to make $30,000 a year, we thought!
But now we all have extra shirts and extra socks, not necessarily because we have enough money to buy clothes now, but just because over the years I’ve amassed enough hand-me-downs from friends and neighbors. As I brought the toddler downstairs in a shirt that my friend Mati had handed down to him just two weeks ago, I heard the sound of a machine running in the garage. It didn’t quite sound like the car. I opened the door to the garage only to find my husband vacuuming up pieces of a shattered mason jar off the cement floor. I didn’t even ask.
When I got in the van I realized that the five year old had climbed over the back seat. I climbed back there to grab him. He was hiding under the old picnic blanket. As I pulled the blanket off I saw spots of scarlet on his white Sunday shirt! He was bleeding. I looked him over. Was his nose bleeding? No. His mouth? No. At last I spotted it. His ear was bleeding! He handed me a small, sharp piece that had broken off the handle of my big yellow pressure canner, explaining that it had cut him. Telling him once again that he was not to climb into the back of the van because he might get hurt by something, I pulled him into the house, took off his shirt, put it in the sink, and went upstairs to find him a fresh one.
At last we were all in the car with no broken glass waiting to pop the tires and everyone in a clean, dry shirt. Hunting for the booster seat, I looked in the back of the van again and saw four gallons of milk sitting there. Just sitting there! “Russel!” I bellowed. On our Friday night date, Russel had told me that we needed to stop at Albertsons on the way home because I hadn’t bought any milk when I went to Costco on Thursday. I couldn’t believe it. I was sure I had bought milk on Thursday. Four gallons of it. I could remember walking up to the milk case and loading it onto my cart, or was I remembering the week before? Had I really forgotten to get the milk? It was possible. I looked in my purse for my receipt, but I couldn’t find it. I wondered if I had left the milk in the cart in the parking lot. No, I thought, I would have seen it. Puzzled, I sat there and wondered when I had gone insane as we drove to Albertsons to pick up some milk.
The mystery milk had reappeared. Russel had left it in the van when he had brought in the rest of the groceries. “When did you first think I hadn’t bought any milk?” I asked after I had told him what I had found in the back of the van.
“When there wasn’t any in the kitchen to put into the fridge.” He said.
“Why didn’t you ask me about it then?” I demanded.
That, I guess, was a rhetorical question.
At last I just laughed, “Well, at least I know I’m not going insane.”
“No, I am,” Russel said with chagrin.
Twelve dollars down the drain!
By the time we started the car it was 8:20. We were late, but not later than the choir director.
The choir sang "Now Thank We All Our God" a capella. I love that song, and it sounded great.
In Primary, one of the little eight year olds got up to read. He had this great big Bible that he could barely manage. When he got it lying open on the podium he began to read the story of the ten lepers. But when he read it, it was the ten leopards. You see, Jesus was passing through Samurai. Ten leopards came and stood afar off and cried unto him, have mercy on us! When Jesus heard them he said, go and shew thyselves unto the pirates. And as they were going they were healed. And one of them turned back and glorified God, and he was a Samurai.
So if kids knew there were Samurai, leopards, and pirates in the Bible, maybe they would be more eager to read it!
I made biscuits and gravy for dinner. Afterwards, the toddler insisted on me holding him instead of washing dishes, so I called a friend to pass the time while I held the toddler in my lap. While I was on the phone the doorbell rang.
“It was Mati,” Russel said, “She brought these,” he had a plate of cinnamon rolls.
“Mati?” I cried, “Stop her!”
“Too late,” Russel said, but I was already charging for the entry way. I grabbed the cheese grater off the little candle shelf just as her tail lights were pulling out of the view through the front door. Out the door and down the sidewalk I ran, “Mati!” I shouted, waving the grater in the air, “I have your cheese grater!” She didn’t see me.
I left Mati a message on her answering machine thanking her for the rolls and telling her I tried to chase her down with a cheese grater.
“Dad said he enjoyed your article,” my husband told me. He was on the phone for his weekly call to the folks.
“My article?” I asked, “The one in Toccare?” I was surprised. That wouldn’t come out until December. How had he seen it?
“I guess,” Russel said. “The Revolutionary Alarm Clock?”
“You mean they used my story?” I asked. This was another matter entirely, “They printed it in BYU Magazine?” I had submitted that story so long ago I had forgotten about it. I figured they would let me know if they were going to print it or not, so I gave up on thinking about it months ago.
They did print my story! I got the first slot on the page, and a very cute illustration! I want that cartoon of college student me napping in the grass with a back pack for a pillow for my web site! Click here to go take a look! I was so excited I called my mom. I could hear my sister in the background groaning when she found out that they hadn’t told me they were going to use it. They owe me fifty dollars! That’s the most I’ve ever made on a piece of writing.
To top off the day, I took the cover off my big harp for the first time in months. I had just volunteered to play background music at the church Christmas dinner in three weeks, and figured it was time to start practicing. After I replaced a string, tuned up, and tightened the screws on all the levers, Russel ran upstairs and got his new penny whistle! Whee! I had so much fun playing carols with him. Maybe the two of us should play together at the dinner.
Oh happy day! When have I had so much fun?
Thursday, November 8, 2007
The Busiest Day of my Life
Yesterday I had four major events scheduled:
- Music Time: Every Wednesday I teach a one hour singing and movement class for toddlers. The first Music Time of the month always takes a little extra because I have to swap out the props for the new monthly theme. Then I dash off afterwards to pick up my kindergartener from school.
- PTA Meeting: As the newsletter editor, it really helps if I actually attend the meetings to get the scoop on what's going on. From three thirty to four thirty I scribbled notes, then ran home to get some food in the kids before. . .
- Red Mountain Choir: Last night was the first rehearsal for the Red Mountain Choir, a community group that my husband and three of my children belong to. I drove them there, then sat in the car with the two youngest ones. Fortunately I had brought the lap top computer, so on half the screen I put on "Fantasia 2000" for the kids and on the other half of the screen I used Red Mountain Choir's wireless internet signal to check the blogs and message boards while I waited for rehearsal to be over.
- Book Club: After the choir rehearsal, I left my children watching "The Castle of Cagliostro" in Japanese while I went to a ladies book club meeting. We discussed "To Kill A Mockingbird." This was fun, since all of us had read it in high school but got SO MUCH more out of it reading it this time as adults.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Got Mail?
"Get Mail!" my two year old son insisted as we reached our driveway. Of course the mail had not come yet, it was only nine in the morning. The flag was still up. My query letter was still in there.
I opened the mail box and for a moment I felt like taking the letter out. It was not the fear of rejection, no, I expect that. It was the fear of success. There is a tiny, remote possibility that the letter in my mailbox this morning could set off a chain of events that would lead to my becoming a successful, published author. As badly as I want that, I know it could also destroy me. Success is dangerous, even in small doses. It tends to make one think one is somehow more important.
I left the letter in the mailbox.
I opened the mail box and for a moment I felt like taking the letter out. It was not the fear of rejection, no, I expect that. It was the fear of success. There is a tiny, remote possibility that the letter in my mailbox this morning could set off a chain of events that would lead to my becoming a successful, published author. As badly as I want that, I know it could also destroy me. Success is dangerous, even in small doses. It tends to make one think one is somehow more important.
I left the letter in the mailbox.
Monday, November 5, 2007
How Not to Query
They say you learn more from failure than success. If that's the case, I've learned a whole lot about getting a novel published these past few months. Allow me to share my wisdom so that those who come after me do not have to tread such a thorny path:
- TARGET YOUR QUERY: I noticed that many agents say they will look at fantasy, but few actually publish it. So, before you send the letter, make sure the agent has a recent publishing deal in your genre. You want to make sure that she knows how to sell what you've got. Besides, agents who don't publish books like yours are a lot less likely to seriously consider your manuscript.
- HONE YOUR PARTIAL: Before you send the letter, make sure your first fifty pages are in top condition. Read them over carefully. Did you get to the plot? Did you begin to develop the interesting aspects of the characters? Did your exposition succeed in enticing the reader to want more? Hand out the first fifty pages to some people you trust, have them read, and get their honest opinion. If they're not dying to read the rest of the book, little chance an agent will be. The second agent I heard back from wanted a partial, but, alas, my first fifty pages did not impress her. I have since rewritten the first fifty pages. If I'd done that in the first place I might be signing a contract right now.
- NEVER GIVE UP: Someone will be my agent. If I don't get any takers in this next round, I'll revise the book, revise the letter, revise the synopsis, and try again! This is a game of luck and skill. I have the skill, and luck will come with time.
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