The King's Speech and the Inspiration of Motivation

I caught The King's Speech last night at the local theatre and the damn thing floored me. Took my breath away. What an amazing movie. Simple, yet complex as we follow the Duke to the thrown he doesn't even want due to his stammering. Although it was subtley directed, passionately acted...the writing was quietly powerfull. All the explosions happened within the characters themselves or the interactions with each other, not in the fx department. As an aspiring screenwriter, every once in awhile a script comes along that gives me this feeling of awe...as is in awe shucks, I wish that was mine! David Seidler's screenplay did just that for me last night.

As I lay in front of the television pretending that watching American Idol is somehow preparing me to write, as I lay in bed reading because I need to step away from a story that I haven't even visited in days, as hold my phone trying to come up with something witty to tweet about, I could have been writing. Attempting to write a script that moves me the the way Mr. Seidler moved so many of us last night. When the "Every Once In A While" story strikes, it inspires me to move from the couch or the bed or from the phone and plop myself in front of the computer and dive into the world that exists, for me, inside. It motivates me to, allow the characters clamouring inside my head, taunting me to give them breath, to have their voices heard, put them on paper. It's the Inspiration of Motivation that has moved me to delve back into the souls of these charaters and attempt to do what David Seidler did do. I MAY never sell a screenplay I write and that's ok... but I'll NEVER sell a screenplay I never wrote.

Who The Frock Am I part 1

Who the frock am I?  Where do I begin?  Am I middle aged? Over the hill or just cresting it?  The shit caught in someone's shoe or the shoe itself?  All good questions of doubt and insecurity...wonder and denial.  I guess first and formost I'm me.  The good and the bad, the black and the white, the weak and the strong.  I love to live within the limitless worlds in my head and then try to place these worlds on a paper landscape.  They're never as rich, or with as much depth on paper as they seem in my head.  The pen and pad, for me, reduces a 3D imagination to a 2D reality.  Am I a good writer?  I would guess not.  I choose the wrong words, the wrong locations, the wrong characters, the wrong titles, I could go on an on, but is there any point to?  Writing is my mistress, my guilty pleasure, my home away from home, although I don't get to visit as often as I'd like.  As painful as it is, I wouldn't stop doing it for anything in the world.  It haunts me at night, the voices clang about in my skull, screaming to get out.  I couldn't stop if I tried. 

Who the frock am I? I'm a parent of 2 amazing children.  As characters bang about in my mind, these 2 bang around outside it.  They splash color upon my life, keep me grounded, keep me young, give me drive and ambition, a reason to believe that the world is still good.  They are the reason I write and wake up in the morning.  They are my breath and my devotion.

Who the frock am I?  I'm just a guy.

@onemundanelife