Bullfight in Tijuana (Fouth of July)

Well . . . my Black Laptop finally uploaded the videos from the Tijuana bullfight. And yes, that is how we celebrated the Fourth of July weekend here in sunny San Diego, CA.

Frankly, it was a bad week. First, I got worse food poisoning than anything I got in the Middle East. Second, I went to visit my younger brother in the hospital after a malicious surfing accident. Then, I got stung by a stingray, and the IRS messed up my taxes and sent a few nasty letters threatening to foreclose on some of my vital organs.

So, one might ask in a similar situation, what does one do? Nothing like a Tijuana bullfight to ease the bummer. And honestly, guys, it's not some savage, sick-joy kind of thing. It's very cultural. Taking you back a few hundred years to an event that isn't Indian-Mexican, but Spanish-Mexican . . . and yes, for you gringos out there, there is a difference. Below are the videos from the Fourth of July weekend in Playas de Tijuana and the old Spanish days of Mexican's roots.

And just in case any of that isn't over-the-top enough for you, here is my friend Kasey and I "honoring a sick chicken:"

Tijuana Bullfights and Terry Rossio

OK guys, what I'm doing right now is sitting on the couch working on the final edits for Surfing the Middle East. When I'm doing in the other room is uploading YouTube videos from the Fourth of July weekend here in North Country San Diego . . . where my cohorts and I went to a Tijuana bullfight.

And I know what you're thinking . . . so savage man, why kill a bull?

My response? Well, it's a lot more than that. It's actually the kind of thing that takes you back to the Old Spanish Days, spiting the difference for us gringos between Indian-Mexican Things & Spanish-Mexican Things. Of course none of this was an issue 500 years ago . . . No Spanish. Yet.

So while I'm uploading, I thought I'd 1) share a picture of my twin black laptop work station where I separate media from book writing, and 2) share one of the best things I've ever read on writing, sent to me by my friend and editor, Donna Beech.


Screenwriter Terry Rossio is being interviewed by John Robert Marlow. Click here for his blog and the full interview.

JRM: It’s been said that nothing is more common than unsuccessful people with talent. So other than the obvious­an abundance of talent­what do you believe makes you different from other writers?

Terry Rossio: Ah, great question. I don’t know the answer to that right off. But you’ve made another questionable presumption. I do believe there are writers with “an abundance of talent” … that would be Stephen King, Harlan Ellison, David E. Kelley, Theodore Sturgeon, Rod Serling, etc. Their first drafts are brilliant and they have a high level of output. Let me tell you, I do not belong in that category.

I’m just an average writer. But I’ve learned the trick of applying what talent I possess many times over to a project, elevating it a little each time. What you do is create from a personal, subjective viewpoint, and then assess what you’ve done from an objective, audience viewpoint, and then switch back to creating, and then back to assessing, etc. Essentially, I am an abundantly talented editor.

* * *
JRM: What goes through your head when you sit down to write? What are you thinking?

Terry Rossio: Well, okay. Starting from the beginning …

The first issue to me, and most important, is whether the concept is intrinsically compelling. I like to feel with absolute certainty that the fundamental idea is, without a doubt, an exceptional premise, without question.

Next, I would ponder exactly WHY the concept is compelling.

This is kind of like examining a diamond from every angle under different lighting, against different backdrops. Yes, you know it’s pretty, but what makes it so? And how does it achieve its beauty, and could it be enhanced even more?

... Right away [my writing partner] Ted and I start to see key images. There is nearly always a series of filmic images naturally associated with every good film idea. As those images come we try to think of ways to link them or group them, to write toward them and away from them … a plot starts to form.
(It’s sad when­-much later on-­one of the early, key images drops out, or falls away from the spine of the eventual storyline.)

Next I spend time thinking about the All-Important SECOND IDEA.

Since I fear working on something that isn’t great or compelling from the start, I want to stack the deck in our favour by taking the first inspiration and going past it, add to it with a second inspiration.

This is hard to describe because it could be ‘adding’ or ‘merging’ the first concept with another concept or it could be coming up with some twist that derives from the original idea and pushes it further. At all times we keep thinking, ‘how can we push this’ more than what we have already? Can we do the entire concept in the first thirty pages, and then go from there, and really blow the audience away? Again, this is all fear-based … is it good enough? No, not yet, it can get better, we can do more …

Then I shouldn’t go too far without starting to think about the main character relationship or relationships. (Note, not the main character, or characters, their histories and such. That’s not so important. To me, the relationship between characters is what needs to be defined, those are the moments audiences want to watch, and the actual characters can be adjusted to make the main relationship or relationships the most interesting). That leads to thinking about what kind of character, and character situation, is best to mine the concept, or take best advantage of the concept or tell the story.

Next. As always, I would try to think of ways to push the characters into extremes.

Because this is my personal weak point, I worry that my characters are too timid, or bland; too much a reflection of myself ... meaning my actual self or the self I wish to present to the world ... Not enough a reflection of my hidden self, my fears, experiences, dreams, wishful thinking, intuition, hang-ups and psychoses.

Or at the least, not compelling or unique enough [compared to others], like the world’s greatest detective (Sherlock Holmes) or a man ages backward from birth (The Curious Case of Benjamin Button) or a man who lives 2000 years (Lazarus Long); etc.

Next, I start to explore umbrella situations (overall themes that are simple and so allow for complex exploration) as well as interesting sub-situations.

My goal from page one is to present whatever the story is in a series of ‘characters in situations’ where the information and issues appear as a side effect of people dealing with immediate problems--with no relief.

Then I ask myself: Have you made the mistake of making the secondary characters more interesting than the leads?

Early in the process I want to focus on the ending. Nothing else matters, nothing will happen, no project will be begun or get anywhere or make any progress at all until the ending is known. If there is no satisfying ending, or at least the glimmer of one, then the idea will sit on the shelf.

Good endings are hard. But once you have it, then everything else derives from the ending, because it’s all about setting up that final twist, or emotion, or feeling, or thematic statement, or rush of excitement, or chill, or brilliant payoff, or sublime wisdom, or whatever.

.... It’s almost impossible to have the makings of a story without a theme implied, but next you ask: Is the theme trite? Is the opposite of the obvious theme more interesting? Or is there an entirely different theme that is actually better, more sublime, more compelling?

Then ... What is a compelling opening image?

At some point, after having a few scenes and images in mind, some characters, I would start to wonder: What is the point of view?

It usually starts off flying all over the place to explore the story, but is there some way to limit the point of view that would actually enhance the telling of the story? (What if we revealed stuff from this character instead, how does that change the emphasis, how does that change the unfolding narrative from the audience’s point of view?)

At some point I would also double check:
Is the setting right?
What if I changed the gender of my lead, would it matter?
What if I opened at the end instead of the beginning?
Would the whole thing be better if the leads were ten years old?
These are just routine questions used to double check the whole creative process, shake things up, and make sure I’m fully exploring all options.

I might ask: Is this all really best suited as a screenplay … is it really a novel, a short story, or a play, or a comic book or a television series just masquerading as a feature screenplay?

I would also double check: Have I fulfilled, but also exceeded, the genre? If it’s a horror film is it actually scary, if it’s a romance is it actually romantic? What are the reference films (and books) the audience will bring to this to measure it by?

I would wonder: Does it require a character as villain or is it not that type of film? Is the conflict imbedded in one person? ... What if the villain turned out to be the hero? What if we told the story from the point of view of the villain?

Again, these are just questions I would ask to assure myself I’m not missing some obvious opportunity.

Hopefully then I’d have enough answers to start getting into the story problem solving.

Then I would start to generate ongoing patterns: Character relationships. Setting up reversals. I would want to build in Surprises.

I play around a lot with the lines of force which just means tracking each character through the story, understanding that each would continue toward the path of what they want, unless their wants change. But all their actions are a result of intent and intent comes from desire. If I want the plot to work, the character’s desires have to be designed as such...

Over and again, I ask: What’s cool? What’s a cool sequence? Cool character? A cool line of dialogue? A cool set, a cool exchange, a cool sequence? A cool relationship? What’s a cool demise? What’s a cool fight sequence, a cool visual? A cool opening image?

Repeat this whole process several times, as needed, until in an excruciatingly slow process, each solution asserts itself and declares itself, ‘good’ and finally, when everything is good ... or you run out of time ... it’s done.

THEN you can start writing.