Life is for living, dammit

Some people have been a tad surprised at me putting it out there yesterday.  In reply, I'd just like to make a couple of points (bad language may follow):

1.  IF I had followed "advice" given to me, I wouldn't have entered Miss Waikato, and gained 2nd Runner-up;

2.  IF I had listened to those who were snarky and said I couldn't do it, I wouldn't have moved overseas and started my degree, and in turn finished the whole thing six months early;

3.  IF I had followed "advice" given to me, I wouldn't have become the leading female luxury car sales person in Australasia;

4.  IF I had listened to all the negative people in whom I'd confided my plans and dreams, there's a whole stack of other things I wouldn't have achieved (of which I am damn proud).

In The Muppet Movie, Fozzy said "turn left at the fork in the road", and I guess that's what I've always done.  I haven't gone with whats perceived to be "right", I've chosen various challenges because, well...they were mine to choose and for one reason or another they appealed to me.

Life is for living and I truly believe that deep down inside YOU alone know what is right for YOU.  The next time someone tells you that what you want to do is the stupidest thing they've ever heard or that you won't succeed, don't listen, ok?   You'll never know whether or not you could have achieved it, if you haven't given it a whirl. 

Oh, by the way...this doesn't go for people who attempt things half-heartedly.  You've gotta give it all you've got.  Work harder than anyone else you know, especially if you're in a competitive situation.  Prove those fuckers wrong. 

Imagine being on your deathbed with a "I wish I'd done such and such" list so long, that you died before you could remember everything on it?  How annoying would that be? ;-)  I, for one, will not die wishing that I'd given something a whirl.

Oh, and by the way...maybe if I was to re-write the above list in another five years time, my fifth point would look something like this:

5.  IF I had listened to all those who were snarky and said my script would never amount to anything, I wouldn't have won an Oscar.

"Out damn script, out I say!"

A picture speaks a thousand words, right?  One single photograph in a Cleo magazine captured my heart and imagination when I was at high school, and has gone on to speak tens of thousands of words to me since that time.

The image was of a girl wearing an Arran sweater and sitting amongst beautiful tussock-like beach grass.  She had her back to the camera, was hugging her knees and her stunning long brown hair was windswept.  The photo was part of a series of winter wear, and other images showed her with her boyfriend and other friends.  Everyone at school bought a copy of that magazine, and we all cut out THE picture and hung it on our bedroom walls.  Eventually the picture must have made way for something a bit more "mature", and it was lost.

During my teenage angst, I'd gaze at that photo for hours and wish I was that girl (either literally her or who she was representing).  And after hours of gazing, a story began to form in my mind, a story so compelling to me about why she was on that beach, who she was, and who she was pining for, that I HAD to write it down. 

The words tumbled easily through the end of my biro and began to fill up an exercise book.  I also wrote notes on other scraps of paper and soon had a scrapbook full to the brim that needed to be molded into a novel.  A family friend gave me an old laptop just before I finished university and I started to type the novel into Microsoft word.

Uh oh. This is where the problem began.  For some strange reason when I was no longer handwriting my story, I began to see camera angles.  I could hear music in my head and I could see more than clothes, they were costumes; ends of sentences became ends of scenes. 

The opening scene became apparent, and so real that I could literally feel the icy grass crunching beneath my feet as the mist swirled around the group of people I was with.  The titles, the music...everything...this was no longer a novel, it wanted to be a screenplay.

Damn.  I tried to ignore the screenplay issue.  But then Matt Damon and Ben Affleck won an Oscar for Best Original Screenplay for Good Will Hunting.  At that moment, the dream could not be denied.  My story born from a picture in a teenage magazine, which had developed through novel form and was morphing into a screenplay now had a goal.  An Oscar.  I needed to win for me, for all the heartbroken, forlorn and angsty teenagers, and for my country New Zealand.

The next step was to research screenplay layout, and I painstakingly "tabbed" for all I was worth to put in dialogue, scene changes and action into Microsoft word.  Courier New 12pt became my best friend.

What next?  Acting class, of course.  I successfully enrolled in Michael Saccente's Meisner class in Auckland.  The two year course was brilliant, and I devoured every script that I was presented with and learnt more about script construction and indeed me, than at any other time during my life.  If you don't know about the Meisner technique, Google it.  Fascinating and extraordinary.

Then I discovered the script formatting software "Final Draft".  The order arrived from the Writers Store in Los Angeles within a week, and tabbing became a thing of the past.  Final Draft is so damn clever!  It can almost anticipate who is going to speak next and where the scene is set.  Best of all, you can assign voices to your characters and have your script read back so you can ascertain the flow of language and check that conversations actually sound like conversations in real life.

Unfortunately, without the pleasure of being able to write full-time, boring stuff like work and study has inevitably held up the final push needed to complete the script.  But, two weeks ago a competition was launched, and now I have that final kick in the pants that I need.  I'm entering the script into http://www.makemymovie.co.nz/

A requirement of entry is to produce a movie poster.  A dear friend was happy to become my "star" on the poster, and via facebook, I was put in touch with an incredibly talented young photographer who leapt at the chance to be involved.  We were supposed to shoot the poster yesterday, but the weather wasn't playing nicely.  Hopefully, we'll get it shot next weekend, and then my entry will be complete.

I’ll let you know when the entry has been loaded, then if you like the idea, I’d be thrilled to receive your vote so I make it into the next round of judging.

If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be, right?  And maybe, just maybe this story will stop gnawing at my soul, and begin to stir other people's souls as they watch the tale unfold on the silver screen. Just maybe.

Thirty years

Thirty years ago yesterday, my father died in a helicopter accident in the Urewera National Park.  The crash also claimed the life of a young guy who was new to the deer industry.  The pilot survived.  

The pilot went on to crash another chopper about a year later in the same region, in which he again survived, but another of my father's friends was killed.  That took a long time for me to come to terms with.  He has to live with that burden, not me.

I can remember every detail like it happened yesterday. Every. Single. Detail.  I know what I was wearing.  I can remember how I felt.  I remember what other people wore.  I remember what people said to me.  I know what I ate (or didn't/couldn't eat).  I can remember the crunching sound of the icy grass beneath my feet.  Ironically, we had exactly the same sort of fog today as we did 30 years ago today. 

In 1983, Rex Forrester published a wonderful book called "The Chopper Boys".  It is a great read, full of real salt of the earth Kiwi men and stories that make you wonder why that era hasn't yet been turned into a movie. 

The guys in the deer industry in the 60's and 70's were a breed of their own.  They had to deal with extreme weather, very isolated locations and had a massive task on their hands. 

Rex followed up with the sequel "The Helicopter Hunters".  Both books have now been published in one volume.

The Chopper Boys & The Helicopter Hunters by Rex Forrester

"This is the story of the chopper boys, the men whose sweat, skill and heroism provided the foundation for the now-thriving deer-farming industry. Working in dangerous conditions in New Zealand's remote back country, these men risked serious injury, even death, for the adventure of it all - as well as sometimes for serious financial gain " (from the back cover).

It would be a fantastic movie.  Honestly, an utterly incredible film given the stories that Mum and our friends in Te Anau have to tell about the industry in its heyday.  And, the scenery.  Oh my god, the scenery.  Fiordland is simply the most beautiful place on earth.

A Helicopter Line chopper casually parked up in Fiordland

Hmmm.  I'd be keen to co-write with someone.  This is one movie script I wouldn't have the strength to write alone. Any takers?

Finally, they say that "time heals all". Maybe it does.  For me, I'd say that "writing heals all".

RIP Dad.

PS. The anecdote in "The Chopper Boys" about the guy who was using the kitchen light as a navigation tool at night...nah, no idea who that was.

PPS. And, the anecdote in "The Helicopter Hunters" about the guy swinging from the strop conducting an orchestra (and singing Ava Maria)...I have no idea who that was either ;-)