Kyle Michel Sullivan's Blog: https://www.myirishnovel.com/, page 115

Find Ray T

I found my last Final Draft version of the screenplay and have it in a PDF, as well. I have a couple pages of notes to filter into it, but overall it's still a solid script. I don't know why no one wanted it...but I feel that way about several of my screenplays, so it's probably just me.

I think I'm going to use Derrick Davenport, who was a Playgirl model in the mid-90s, as the image for my lead character. The story follows Damon Payne, a hot young actor, as he is forced to help the Russian mafia locate a snitch hiding in the witness protection program. The man had written a book about his life of crime and Damon played him in the movie version. It's an action-comedy with lots of running around, but it's also about a young man about to lose his way before finding out what's most important in life -- his ex-wife and his child. High concept, but not that high...

I once read the copy of Speed that sold for a million dollars. That was high-concept. It was written by Graham Yost...and it was just plain awful. Jack is introduced going after his aunt's chihuahua, because it's ventured onto the edge outside her 10th floor window and people think he's a jumper. Harry winds up being the bad guy. None of the passengers on the bus have personalities, and Annie doesn't fare much better. The studio bought it for the bomb-on-a-bus idea.

Story is, they were in preproduction before they realized the script was unfilmable and called in Joss Whedon to do a page one rewrite. Which he did, brilliantly. But got no credit. I'm sure it helped that Jan De Bont worked with him on adding visuals and was willing to let him play with the characters. And the truth is...you can tell who knew what they were doing by looking at what they've done, since.

Graham Yost has worked mainly in TV, with middling success. Nothing memorable. Jan De Bont came out of music videos and commercials and did a couple more films, but mainly he's stayed a DP. Joss Whedon wrote and made Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Firefly, Dollhouse, Angel, Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D, Justice League...and dozens of other fine works. He's said to be an asshole, but in the film biz that can be seen as an asset, not an issue.

I guess the point of this is, people are always saying the script has to be good to sell...but Graham Yost sold a crappy script because it had a good idea. Other writers have done the same thing. I never had an idea like that. Mine focus more on the people in the story, not how off-the-wall it can be. I would never have come up with something like Face/Off, and I'm too locked into reality to allow the stupid plot points in films like Die Hard 2 and The Rock. Hell, there's even been a movie about sharks in a tornado (I know the original writer) and that was a phenomenal success with numerous followups.

So I guess I just don't know how Hollywood and the audience work.

Back from Hudson Valley...

This trip was quick and dirty, and I'm not really done with it till tomorrow, when I turn the car in and finalize the archives for shipping. But it went well enough. It's just a long drive, and half the rest stops on the thruway between Syracuse and Buffalo are closed or being torn down for rebuilding...so that adds to the length of it. Fewer places to pull out for a moment and break things up.

But...both days were lovely, and the scenery amazing. This is of the Hudson River, from the 9D heading up  to Newburgh. In the foreground you can see the railroad tracks Amtrak uses to go from NYC to Buffalo...the same tracks used in Alfred Hitchcock's North by Northwest.

I did get some interesting notes for FRT's rewrite. I just need to find the last version I did in Final Draft and load it onto my desktop. My FD file is too old to work on any newer computer. Irritating, but I'd stopped writing scripts so felt no need to update it.

I haven't stopped on APoS. I'm letting the information I've gathered from War and an Irish Town filter in, blending with Brendan and his life. I don't want to start adding in details for the sake of details or opinions that he wouldn't have had. That can happen too easily. The main thing I'm aiming for is the utter cluelessness of most people involved, and the arrogant stupidity of the British Army commanders, who think something that didn't work before, in India, will work in Northern Ireland.

But first things, first -- redo Find Ray T and decide what to do with it, then.

Returning to my time...

The last week has been madness, work wise, so I don't have the focus to write or even really blog. I decided that today as I was driving to Fishkill, NY (my overnight stop) I would think about APoS and how to increase its depth and humanity. Instead, my mind got caught up in an old screenplay I wrote -- Find Ray T. Why? I have no idea...but I was coming up with ways to make it funnier. I think. I don't really know, since my humor is not necessarily the laugh-out-loud kind.

So I made notes on that. And am being goaded into sending it out, again, once I do a rewrite for jokes and such. It's a good script, I know that already; but no one ever wanted my screenplays...except for friends...and even then not really. I'd get the positive feedback and Yeah, let's do this kind of stuff, but nothing more. It took me many years to realize I am not a good screenwriter. I'm too possessive of my work.

FRT is about a hot young Hollywood actor who's forced to help the Russian mafia find a snitch hiding in witness protection. The actor played the guy in a movie about his life and how he turned state's evidence, and mentioned in an interview he'd met with the snitch. If he doesn't do it, the Russians will kill his ex-wife, his child, his starlette girlfriend, and everyone else he ever knew...just as he's about to start a huge new movie.

This is the script that made me begin wondering if I should shift from writing scripts to books, only. Partly due to an experience I had when I posted it on TriggerStreet. That site was set up by Kevin Spacey and was an interesting concept -- to get your screenplay read and critiqued, you had to read and critique two scripts that were assigned to you. Screenplays with the highest scores got a blue star and consideration for production, if I remember right. It's been more than 15 years.

Well, I did my part and FRT got a good reaction. I achieved a blue star with it. The day after that happened, I got the worst review of my life on anything I have ever done. Blistered the script, line by line. It must have taken the guy hours to do. I lost my blue star. The one positive thing is, it was so over the top in its criticism, I actually couldn't take it seriously, though he did make two points that I felt were good.

So I rewrote the script, uploaded the new version, and got a blue star, again. BAM! The next day I got another vicious review. Not as harsh as the first one but still a negative. This one confused me, so I checked to see what other reviews the guy had done...and they were all pretty much the same. I checked the first guy, and he had hit other scripts just like he'd hit mine. Not one positive critique between them, that I could find. What was more? Neither of them had posted screenplays to be critiqued.

I laughed, now. These were assassination reviews. I mentioned that on the boards and the moderator bawled me out for it. Said I'd made it too easy to identify the culprits, and that my reasoning for this was nonsense. It was pure coincidence this happened. I didn't buy it, but what could I do?

I left the script up and did my bit, as I was supposed to. And got a blue star, again. And BAM! This one took 2 days. This time I went on the boards and spoke about what was happening -- that someone was gaming the setup and had worked out a way to cut down top scripts, probably to help promote a friend's screenplay...and I got bawled out, again, by the moderator.

This time I argued back, but they refused to think that anyone could have worked around their safeguards in order to leave negative reviews and threatened to bar me from the site. I pulled FRT off, instead, and dropped them. I could see where this headed and I wasn't willing to put up with it. Plus by this point I was working on my first book and finding I liked being in control of every aspect of it. Within a few years, I stopped writing screenplays, altogether.

I've thought about shifting the script into a book, but it's not at the top of my list, not at all. So to have it suddenly pop up out of nowhere is a surprise, especially when I'm in the middle of working on book 1 of APoS. But I've learned the hard way, if I ignore a project, everything else gets screwed up. Meaning...when I get home, I'm rewriting FRT.

If I can find the old Final Draft edition I did...

How typical...

 Well...first off, on Tuesday I got a booster shot for Covid. Pfizer. Last one gave me chills overnight, but I'd forgotten it still took me a full 48 hours to get back to feeling normal, again. So yesterday was not a good day for writing. What made it even worse? Two jobs came calling...one taking me to Las Vegas for a hand-carry, the other hopping over to Chicago to pick up a client for Firsts London's book fair. All very scramble, scramble, get it set, now.

Before the day was done, the Chicago job got canceled because they found someone actually in Chicago to do it...so I had to rearrange everything for the Las Vegas job, which was made difficult because cars are hard to come by at the rental agencies, there. My two mainstays were both out of stock. I only got a hotel set up, today...and I'm heading out tomorrow. Jesus.

Then another job came in, driving downstate in NY to pack and ship out an archive. ASAP, please. That's set for next Monday/Tuesday...so there's where my day went, today -- working up costing, arranging for transportation and accommodations and making sure the timing would work...and the following week I'm in Portland.

This always happens when I get heavy into writing or rewriting a book. I managed to get through a little of APoS, today, but found the chapter I'm working on needs to be split in half. One part would be the lead-up to the fight for Bogside; the other would be the actual fight that, for the first time, established a part of Northern Ireland as being under Catholic control instead of Protestant. That infuriated Protestants.

One good thing about this set of trips is, it will give me time to re-read Stetler's book, The Battle Of Bogside, which was written only a few months after it happened. It's long out of print, but I managed to find a copy at Walled Books in Derry, a few years ago. I'm tempted to leave my laptop at home, since I won't reallyhave time to fire it up and don't want the extra weight to lug around. I'm not checking a bag, just taking my rucksack with paperwork and a change of clothes stuffed in.

God, I'd feel so disconnected, even though my phone connects to everything...and means no blogging till Saturday...

4 January 1969

I'm through the point where the People's Democracy march is attacked at Burntollet Bridge, outside Claudy. Brendan's brother, Eamonn, is on the march so Brendan sneaks away from home to try and connect with them, but he is unable to until after the attack has happened. Eamonn is seriously injured and in Altnagelvin Hospital when Brendan finds him.

This image is from the attack, one of the marchers, many of whom were hurt but still carried on their walk up to the Guildhall, which is another 6-7 miles away. I've read reports of anywhere from a dozen people needing hospital treatment to 80. I kept the numbers of this part indistinct, for all that matters is the two brothers and their reactions to what's happened.

I have another angle of it tacked to the bulletin board above my work table. Looking straight out at me. Demanding I finish the story...as I'm trying, now, to do.

I hate to call this a coming of age moment for Brendan, but he does begin to see things more clearly and is unwilling to accept the lies and manipulations from not only the Protestant side of the struggle but also the Catholic. Still, he's only 12 and trying to figure out his way in the world so is confused and uncertain about it all. He just knows people he's trusted are not being honest with him, and it makes him back away in order to give himself time to better understand.

Become even more of a loner.

More and more...

I'm finally up to 1969 in the story. Feeling better about it, but there is still a lot of background I'm missing. Thing is, since this is being told from the viewpoint of a 10-12 year old boy, so far, there's only so much I can put in and have it stay real. Plus Brendan is a loner, with just a few real friends. Keeps to himself a lot. Perhaps a bit autistic. His mother keeps referring to him as being simple, even though he's more than capable in many areas.

He is aware of the growing anger and restlessness in Northern Ireland over the discrimination practiced by the Protestants against them. People are talking...organizing ways to end it. Parallels are drawn with the civil rights marches and protests against the Vietnam war in the US and the May Day riots in France, where younger people are pushing for change, and the old guard just does not want to give way. Once power is tasted it become addictive, so they're fighting back in brutal ways.

It's spooky to me that so much of what's happening in the US is like a repeat of what happened in NI in the late 60s, leading up to the horrific violence of the 70s. The rich are fighting any change in the status quo and the media is going along with them. Fanatical "Christians" are forcing their views down other people's throats, despite us being a secular nation. There was even an attempted coup started by a megalomaniac who is out of his fucking mind, and the law won't do a goddamn thing about it, except arrest the grunts who carried it out and give them slaps on the wrist.

The more the world changes, the more it stays the same...except we are now in a time where Mother Nature is basically saying, "The hell with that. You won't take care of my planet? I'll take care of you." I wouldn't be surprised if the world's population starts decreasing in the next few years, from famine, catastrophe and war...even as the rich think they will be able to buy their way out of the consequences.

Maybe that's the real reason Bezos and Musk are reaching for the stars...evade responsibility while they still can...

Another chapter done with red pen...

 ...But I got sidetracked reading this true story about a writers' room in Hollywood, as told by Dylan Park...and it was edge of your seat kind of fun...

So Brendan and his mother now have an uneasy truce, after a nasty fight, but he still avoids home until he knows she's asleep. One evening a few months later, Danny, leads him to Grianan Aileach, the circle fort just outside Derry in the Republic. They get stoned for the first time...and nearly killed when it turns out they were sneaking pot and bourbon from a smugglers' stash. Their attitude about it? Ah...good times.

I took this photo the first time I went there...20 years ago. I was also visiting Derry for the first time, and just being in the city and wandering around the places where there had been so much carnage and death...and seeing how depressed the city still was, then...it overwhelmed me and I had to get out. So I took a bus to the right stop, walked the 200 meters up to the circle fort, and stayed there until it was too late for me to catch the last bus back.

It was while I was walking to Derry...up and down hills and past fields filled with new lambs that Brendan finally began talking to me...telling me who he was...and showed me I had one hell of a lot of work to do to make the story right. We've had an off-and-on relationship-cum-tug-of-war going, ever since.

It can happen...

Brendan has come back to take over the lead in this story, completely. I had gone through this one section four times, not understanding what it was about until he calmly smacked be on the back of my head and said, "This is it." Then came a moment where he's 12 years old and standing outside a friend's door, having been all but kicked out of the house by the boy's mother for being a bad influence on her son when...

I just nodded and turned, not even trying to smile. I was numb to her words. I leaned against the railing and pulled out my last Blue. As I lit it, I  heard barking from below and saw a pack of dogs chasing after a yellow tom cat. It was trying to escape them, but they managed to surround it in a corner and were howling and snarling and lunging, and the cat was hissing and spitting and clawing at them...and I held my breath. I wanted something to throw down to stop them but had nothing, so I figured the cat was a dead one.

Danny noticed and sighed. "I've seen that one chased a few times," he said. Not a pleasant creature. Looks like he's finally been caught."

"It's not fair, is it?" I murmured. "A pack like that against one."

"It's nature's way."

"Yeah. I guess. Would that it were not so."

I watched the beasts edge closer and closer to the tom, having their fun. He still spat and hissed and scratched at them, giving no hint of surrender. I wanted to turn away, but I couldn't. i felt it would be dishonorable.

The suddenly the tom turned into a whirling mass of fur and claws, startling the dogs. I hear yelps and whines and howls of pain...and poof -- the cat was gone.

"Jesus, Bren, did you see that?" Danny whispered.

I nodded, grinning. "Never count yourself down, eh?"

"I guess not," he said, then fired his own fag off my Blue.

I didn't want to move. I wanted to stand there, in homage. Watch the dogs wander around, hurt and confused. They thought they had beaten the little beast, but it had outdone them...and nothing could have pleased me more than to have witnessed it.

I looked up and across at the Guildhall, looking solid and uncaring. A symbol of all that was wrong in Derry. A Catholic town controlled by Protestants, without a care for those who'd been here a thousand years before them.Behind it, the Foyle whispered past, giving no thought to our pettiness and obscene behaviors. Nature's way was to let the strong destroy the weak? That tom had proven it a lie. I actually smiled at the notion that no matter how badly you seem to have lost, you could still beat your tormenters. It almost made me chuckle.

But then wee Eammon's Ma burst out the door, howling, "Why are you standing there, smoking? He's got asthma, you know! Are you still trying to kill him?"

"Ma, I'm fine," came from within.

I sighed, saluted her with my cigarette, and then Danny and I headed for the elevator.

Dive! Dive!

I got through chapter 5 of APoS pretty quickly and input that, so worked on chapter 6...and found myself in deep water. Funny how that happens. I've gone through it with a red pen. Input the changes made. Printed it out...and an idea burst from it, so I adjusted it more and input those adjustments and printed that out and now need to go through it, again to make certain it's working. And make notes because it changes a bit of the previous chapters. Shit, here I am already closing in on 100,000 words but not 25% of the way through the rewrite. I do love my writing...says the idiot writer...

I'm at the point where Brendan's 12 and beginning to feel things for the opposite sex. He's seen Joanna, who becomes the perfect girl to him, and is beginning to better understand the violent relationship between his mother and father, prior to the man's death.

This is the part that scrambled me, because I may also have found a reason for there to be animosity between Brendan and his mother -- at least, what he thinks is the reason. Hence the possibility of more changes.

And...Brendan's now smoking and drinking. No huffing glue, yet, or spray paint. But that could be coming. What will probably save him from this is his vague autism and preference for solitude. He doesn't need chemicals or drugs to deal with the grinding poverty and boredom in Derry; he has his fix-it jobs that now includes cars. Plus, he and his mates...his chinas, as they call each other...are drifting in different directions, now, so he's not really part of their new crowds.

The way of the world, it seems.

Chapter Four...

Another chapter reworked and input then printed out. I managed to get it all done before I went to the dentist, for my checkup. Still got all my teeth...though some are crowns. I don't count wisdom teeth in that; those left me decades ago. But I'm a bit achy from it because when they clean, they clean...whooh...

What I'm enjoying about this rewrite is seeing how it flows from one space of time to the next. Brendan's telling it in first person, and sometimes he circles back in his life to give more context to an occurrence, but overall it's pretty simple and easy to follow. Not a huge amount happens in these first chapters, but I reference demonstrations and sit ins and events that will set the whole Civil Rights movement in unstoppable motion. Granted, a lot of how I see this is with 20/20 hindsight, which isn't always accurate, but to see it playing out in the US in almost exactly the same way, 50 years later, is sort of validating my points.

Well...Brendan's points.

Over the 50 years prior to the Troubles, Protestants had ruled Ulster with an iron fist. Good jobs went to Protestants. Decisions were made in ways that would benefit the Protestant community. New housing went to Protestants while Catholic families were often ensconced in one room of a dilapidated maisonette -- their word for a tenement. Derry was like a step-sister to Belfast, and not even given the cast-offs from the capital. It was nonstop disrespect.

But then the Catholic community grew strong enough to fight back, and Protestants -- so used to being in control -- honestly thought they could just beat them into submission. But it didn't work. Over and over they tried it, but the Civil Rights Movement kept growing and growing, forcing at least the promises of change. Things reached a breaking point with the Battle for Bogside in August 1969, which forced the British Government to send in troops to stop the exploding violence.

Which they did. Until the British decided to side with the Protestants and blame everything on their favorite boogeyman -- the IRA. Which started the real spiral into death and destruction. (photo is by William L. Rukeyser.)

It's happening here. The BLM Movement started making the white men in power nervous, so they spread lies about it and used propaganda and violence to try and quell it, and it's only grown stronger. Which gave rise to the Proud Boys and QAnon, which gave rise to Antifa which led to the January 6th attempted coup. Now the GQP is threatening to destroy the country unless we let them have their way, in Washington...like a controlling lover who's been jilted. If I can't have you, no one can.

There are already violent confrontations around the country between the right wing and the rest of us. It's only a matter of time before we devolve into civil war, again...and Democrats are doing too damned little to prevent it. We are close to matching the Troubles in death and destruction, just on a very American scale.

God, I hope I'm wrong...