Thomas M. Watt's Blog, page 23

2020 Screenplay Competitions

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Photo by Griffin Wooldridge on Pexels.com

The computer components will be arriving next week, and most of my film gear is already here. I have 3 screenplays that I need to enter into into contests but spending more money on this toxic relationship I have with writing is the last thing I should be doing. It’s always funny to me how after I spend large sums of cash I skimp on the already cheap stuff. Below are three contests that I intend to enter. They are affordable, reputable, and still open for 2020:

Nicholl Fellowship – $48 March 6th (early deadline)

Scriptapalooza – $60 March 2nd (late deadline)

Breaking Walls Thriller Contest – $60 February 29 (extended deadline)

The first 2 are more well known. The third I’d like to enter because I have a strong thriller and it seems legitimate.

I’m not a big fan of screenplay competitions – in fact I’ve never entered one. I don’t believe winning a competition can actually land you a job in the film industry. I do believe it can get you attention. Winning a big competition seems like a great stride toward some form of representation.

Unfortunately, the world of writing is over-saturated with writers. It is difficult enough to craft a novel or screenplay that is emotionally engaging for the reader. The harsh reality is that this is not where most writers get rejected. Having a professional open your story and read the pages is next level – it’s much more common to complete a clean chunk of work that never even gets opened. That’s why there is so much emphasis on writing a catchy logline and intriguing synopsis. By shooting my own short films I’m finally be able to see how my writing plays out for real world viewers. By entering competitions, I’ll essentially be paying people to read my screenplay. It’s not a decision I’m at peace with but viewing my prospects logically I believe it’s a necessary investment. But for today, my only investment is going to be 2 chicken sandwiches and a small drink from Jack in the Box – for a cool $5 I’ll glad trade the health points.

Building a desktop for Video Editing

After purchasing roughly $1000 in camera & microphone equipment, I’ve come to a jarring realization – my current computer is not strong enough to support video editing.

According to desktop documentaries, there are certain spec requirements for fast and efficient editing, capable of 4k:

 

Memory/RAM: 8-32 GB RAM or as much as you can afford (ideally at least 16GB)
Processor: Multi-core Intel i5/i7/i9 models (i9 is best). Preferably 4 or more processor cores.
Storage: At least 256 GB hard drive, 7200 RPM, preferably SSD (fastest)… buy as much as you can afford, you can always add external hard drives.
Graphics card: Depends on video editing software. For example, Premiere Pro and Davinci Resolve do well with both AMD and NVIDIA. (Minimum 2GB memory)
Operating System: Windows 7 (64 bit edition), Mac OS X, Linux (Your OS will likely determine the editing software you go with)
Nice size screen – 19-21 inch minimum
Firewire or Thunderbolt Port built in or as an external dock

I spent the weekend educating myself on computer components and compiled a list of all the accessories I would need to purchase to transform my desktop into a video editing machine. Then I discovered my motherboard is so outdated it will not support any of them, so I might as well build a computer from scratch. I discovered this super helpful video for the low-budget filmmaker and have nearly all of the items “Adam with Tech Dive” recommends waiting in my amazon cart. It will cost me under a thousand dollars but will be capable of doing everything the modern day filmmaker requires. I’m not excited to spend more money, but I don’t have much of a choice. If you are going to build a video editing computer, I highly suggest this man’s helpful video.

Filmmaking

Haven’t been on here hardly at all over the last few years. I’ve been writing regularly and seriously since October. I’ve completed 3 scripts that I’m happy with but haven’t gotten any luck with production. The smart decision would be to enter the scripts into contests, and because that’s the logical choice I’ve decided instead to invest $2000 in film gear and a computer capable of editing 4k footage. I’m very excited because this will not only allow me to learn how to direct, but I’ll have the ability to reach an audience much easier. After writing on and off for about 9 years, I’m really just excited to see my stories unfold on screen. Part of the reason I’ve decided to pursue screenwriting rather than book writing is the efficiency of scripts. You can write a 90 page script in a few days, but a first draft of a novel always took me 3 months. Anyways, I’m going to try and post here daily for updates. I have a tendency to disappear from social media but this is the on account that’s always been significant for me. Have a great Friday.

Jolly the Leprechaun

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I take the box with me with my eyes set on the rainbow above. I smile gleefully as I travel through the woods, swinging the box at my side. The painstaking hike lasts hours – my sneakers are muddy, my back hurts, and my stomach gurgles. I stop in my tracks – I’ve reached the end of the rainbow.

“Eric,” says Jolly the Leprechaun, eyes at a squint. “I think you’ve gone the wrong way.”

“I want to make a deal,” I tell him. I walk holding my hands up, showing him I’ve got nothing on me besides the power-reversal box. I set it down on the tree stump between us. Jolly shakes as he tries to hide his glimmering gold coins behind his two-foot-eight frame.

“No deal,” he says. Jolly nervously waves a bloody, sharpened stick. I notice the body on the ground next to him. The young man’s mouth is open with eyes on me. He blinks and his chest rises.

Jolly shoves the wooden dagger down into his heart, then twists it. The man on the ground screams in agony until becoming completely motionless.

“You’ll never get me pot of gold, Eric,” says Jolly.

“I’ve actually got something to offer you this time.”

A sharp smile rises from his lip corners. “Do you remember the last time you saw me?”

I scratch my cheek and look away. Jolly continues.

“You told you me it wasn’t right, the way humans treated me. You said you wanted to help me.”

“I did want to help-”

I shake your hand and you grabbed me by the arm, threw me into a tree, then ran off with me pot o’ gold screaming nobody will ever love me.”

“I don’t remember that last part but I’m sorry you’re upset.”

“Oh you don’t remember the last part?” says Jolly, tugging his make-shift spear out from the corpse beside him. He carries it with the sharpened end aimed at me as he approaches. “Do you remember why you never escaped with me pot of gold, eh?”

“Vaguely,” I tell him. “From what I remember, I didn’t have the heart to leave you stuck in the tree. So I stopped running, set your pot of gold down, then returned to make sure you were ok.”

“Oh that’s interesting,” says Jolly. “Because I remember you stopped running when you saw a dead squirrel, picked it up, then returned to find me in the tree just so you could pretend it was making fun of me, using your fingers to move its jaw while you did all the speaking.”

“That was wrong of me,” I say, with sincerity. “But I’m here today with something to offer you. Something that will help you from ever having to deal with people like me again.”

Jolly begins studying me with his hands on his hips.

“Listen!” I say, shaking the box in front of his face. “See this red button? One push, and I can make you tall, human… maybe even… generous,” I tell him.

“I don’t believe you,” says Jolly. “How tall?”

“You don’t have to! I just need you to agree. I’ll push the button. And if it doesn’t work, then fine! We won’t have a deal.”

“And you want what for it, eh? me pot o’ gold?”

“Yes, that’s all I want.”

“That’s all you want, you sniveling animal,” he says with a sneer. “That pot’s got ten million dollars worth of gold and you have the nerve to say it’s all you want.”

Jolly points his stabbing stick at me as he speaks. He lunges for the box in my hand, but I tug it away like I’m keeping candy from a child.

“Just tell me it’s a deal,” I say, softly. I hold the box out with both hands. “One press, and you can be tall. That’s all it takes Jolly.”

His face burst with redness as his wrinkles contort with anger. The way he glares back makes me certain he dislikes me.

“Please, Jolly,” I say. “This is a win-win for both of us.”

“We’ll try it,” He blurts out, waving his stick ferociously. “But if your button doesn’t work than this stupid deal is off. I am more than willing to kill you for attempting any -”

I push the button on the box and suddenly Jolly shrinks into half his previous size, until he might as well be a leprechaun action figure.

“Oh shit,” I say.

Jolly looks at each of his hands with profound sadness. His defeated gaze slowly tilts up to me.

I hop with my left foot then punt Jolly off into the leaves with my right. I grab the pot of gold sturdy with both hands and begin sprinting away, tongue hanging out my mouth. That’s when I see it.

I stop in my tracks – a skunk, moseying around some leaves all alone. I could easily tape Jolly’s little legs to the skunk and watch him get tossed around like a miniature horse jockey. It will only take a minute, no more than ten. I set down my newfound riches and approach the skunk cautiously.

Thomas M. Watt

Mom

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He finished through the last row of vines and entered the tower in a blaze of panic. It had been 2 days since his last full glass of water and a meal a few berries. Lenny was in no mood to make new friends.

They smiled at him. Sharp, ear to ear grins.

“Congratulations,” the one with a black pendant necklace said. “We believed in you.”

A colony of men and boys. Heads, eyebrows, and faces all completely shaven. Wearing white, priest-like robes.

Lenny, on the other hand, had a beard, a torn Metallica shirt, and tennis shoes.

“Who are you?” said Lenny.

“I’m your keeper,” said the one with the black pendant. “My name is Sugar.”

“Sugar?” began Lenny, still panting. He grabbed the glass of water before a colony member had offered it and took a swig. “Your momma name you that?”

The colony grinned smugly, but none so much as chuckled.

“No,” said Sugar. He reached out and retrieved the empty glass. “But momma would like to meet you.”

Two of the more husky-looking colony members grabbed Lenny by each of his arms. Lenny resisted, snapping free from their grasps and turning for the door. He was stopped short by a dagger point aimed at his eye. Lenny returned to Sugar.

“I don’t know what this is,” Lenny gritted out. “I don’t remember what happened before I entered that bullshit maze. I just want to go home. I just want to return to my boring life.”

“Meet mom, and you’re free to go,” said Sugar.

Lenny eyed the rest of the room. These bald-headed clowns all displayed the same mindless expression. He’d been kidnapped by a goddamn virgin convention.

“Let’s do it,” said Lenny.

He followed along with the colony outside of the tower. So far he had seen swords and daggers, but no sign of any guns. Even if he was to fight his way free, where would he go? Lenny had fought so hard to escape that maze but he never imagined he’d find himself in a more perilous situation.

The walk from the tower was illuminated with Tiki torches lining the dirt path. The fires ran tall and provided some welcome warmth. White-robed colony members flanked Lenny on all sides as they walked in step-by-step unison toward the Gothic Cathedral. The outdoor area was surrounded by an Iron gate. Arrowed spikes decorated their peaks. Then Lenny spotted something – a gate, appearing badly damaged. It had been busted apart by some kind of army jeep. Whoever had tried to break in hadn’t made it very far – there were pikes still sticking out from the windshield.

“This way!” One of the colony members with a thick, low voice shouted at him.

“You might not be afraid of us,” Sugar said to Lenny. He stopped at the doorway, flashed a devilish smirk, then yanked the fat spiraling door handle to the large door of the cathedral and directed Lenny to enter.

The rest of the colony laughed.

“I ain’t afraid of your fucking mom,” Lenny said.

A set of hands shoved Lenny from behind, and he fell onto his hands and knees inside the building. The door shut behind him, and he was filled with cold dread.

The pews were of old wood, vacant of any church parishioners. The statues inside were nothing like the Catholic saints he had seen growing up – these were of dragons flying, wolves eating, and at the front one giant black leopard, in the pouncing position.

“Hello,” said Lenny, surveying the empty building as his voice echoed through the chambers. His foot struck something – a spotted dog, with a knife in its head. Blood pooled around it.

The sound of glass shattering brought Lenny to jump. It had come from up ahead.

Lenny knelt down, rubbed the bloody dog behind its ear, then tugged the knife out from its skull. He stuffed the blade into the waste of his jeans, then adjusted his ragged shirt to hide the handle.

“Lenny,” said the voice ahead. It was a sort of whispered moan. The type of voice you’d expect to hear from a dying creature. “Bow down to me.”

“Fuck you.”

“Bow down to me!”

The smoke from the candles inside swirled together, materialized into a sort of foggy witch, then sucked the knife out from Lenny’s waistband and plunged it straight through his foot, nailing him where he stood.

“Arrgh!” grunted Lenny. He gripped the knife but a sort of magnetic energy kept him from withdrawing it. The black smoke dispersed into a cloud of locust, swarming the inside of the church. Lenny slapped as they attacked at his face, and when he opened his mouth two crammed their way into his throat. Lenny coughed them out.

The locust dissolved into dust, floating like a dark cloud throughout the empty church.

“You’ve caused me great distress.”

Lenny shook his head, and returned his focus to the knife. He couldn’t get it to budge as his own blood puddled around his foot.

“You entered and were never invited. You destroyed my gate, and have brought with you a curse upon my sons. You will die for this, Lenny.”

Return for Part II tomorrow

Thomas M. Watt

 

 

12/30/2016

I’ve just finished writing roughly 1500 words, 1300 of which I am happy about. The other 200 can go fuck themselves cause that was straight absent-minded trash.

I’ve developed a theory lately that I’m watching play out before my eyes each and everyday. There is magic in this world, and it exist in this present life.

When you have a singular focus in your life, and you remain centered around a specific goal, things sort of magnetize toward that goal. I truly believe that and am determined to make that my personal premise. I hope that one day my life’s story will prove that premise.

It’s easy to dwell on all the things that we don’t have, and all the opportunities we’ve failed to take. It’s equally easy to convince ourselves that we are incapable of making a true difference, unable to become more than we are. How nice things would be if we were limited to the current capabilities of our mind, and that beer we drink after a long day at work will always be the high-point of our lives.

But the truth is different, and somewhere deep down, we know that. When we really try to improve our lives, we take steps. Each step comes one at a time, but they’re still steps.

A wealthy man used to stop by my table whenever he’d see me working at Starbucks to say hello. I came to know him as a friend, but during that journey I came to learn his unbelievable background.

He was in the navy and married young, and once he was finished serving he grew to be very close to his wife (allegedly, many members of our armed forces marry at a young age more because they receive financial benefits than because they fall so deeply in love). So he said that he had come to actually love his wife, which I recall him saying with a smirk. But two weeks after his wife was discovered to be pregnant with their first, sorta-planned child, he lost his wife. He told me she lost her in a car accident, but someone who knows him once told me she hung herself. The guy who told me that was a piece of shit, however, so I took that with a grain of salt.

Anyways, after he lost his wife, he really, seriously, struggled. They’d just purchase their first place together, and were depending more on her income then his. Family helped initially, but he began spending their donated funds on alcohol. He said within six months he became a full-blown alcoholic.

His family lost their patience, and soon he lost his home. He moved back in with his parents but developed into a “really nasty, awful person.” His folks gave him the boot, and he wound up living on the streets. He said he was homeless for the next five years, with a brief stint in jail & a brief stint in an apartment sandwiched in between.

After living like this for five years, he said that he finally reached a point where he realized he would never, ever, know happiness or love again. It always struck him as odd that this was his turning point.

He said that back then 24 hour fitness gyms charged a $20 per month membership. He realized that if he cut down on alcohol intake to 1 bottle and 1 six pack per day, he could afford that. So he did, and he saved, and soon he had his membership. Now, the reason he wanted this membership was so that he could have a place to shower and shave everyday, because he knew full-well he wouldn’t be getting hired as dirty as he was.

The problem was, he would need to pool together another $30 for a towel, deoderant, soap, a razor, etc.

…I’m sorry. This story is taking me way longer to write than I thought it would. I’ll try to complete it tomorrow, and I apologize for the abrupt ending.

Hello Dreamers

Im going to start by wishing you all a Merry Christmas. Mine wasnt great but im not here to complain. Im here to ramble, so here it goes.

As some of you may know, 2016 has been spent purduing a career in firefighting over writing. I had my first girlfriend in a while, and am currently employed as a full time EMT and part time reserve firefighter. Im 1 semester away from getting my associates.

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But I want to write, God Dammit. I dont know why, because its not something I tell anyone about. Im 80 pages into a new manuscript right now, and literally nobody knows it. I feel that it is really good, and for once Ive chosen a story I am qualified to write about.

I want to get back on track with dreaming in 2017. I dont want any relationships for a while. They are impossible for me.

I want to do something incredible in this lifetime. That is more important to me than finding happiness and fullfillment in the present moment.

Im going to begin hosting competitions on this blog for writers, musicians, and artists to compete with works amongst each other and gain valuable exposure in the process. Im going to complete my novel and im going to get it published.

 

 

Sorry for the delay…

Alright, obviously, I have hardly been posting here for a while now. That’s mostly because I’ve been concentrating my efforts on firefighter training and employment, but partially because I’ve had a girlfriend. Well we broke up today, so I’m going to have more time to write (please, spare me your tears:).

I’ve thought an awful lot about writing, and also pondered ways to make this website more fun. I used to play full-tilt poker a lot, before it was deemed illegal. Full-tilt was an online gaming website where you could bet money on poker games after making a minimum deposit of fifty dollars.

I think it would be interesting to offer a competition similar to this here on my wordpress site. I’d open 9 spots for a writing contest, and award prizes to the top 3 short story writers. I would request an entry of 500-2000 words.

Not only would the winner receive a monetary prize, but I’d also publish the winning story here in 4 parts. On top of that, I would feature a portrait of the author, put their name and a link to their blog ahead of their story, and build a database of pasts winners for new website visitors to browse through. This same format for a contest could also be used for art, music, and anything artistic. I would aim to host contests once per week, and announce the winner the following week.

Any thoughts on my idea? Are any of you interested to the extent you would submit something for an entry fee of around $5? Let me know, I want to hear your thoughts!

Thomas M. Watt

Able to Write Again

Today marks the first time in a while I’ve got an open morning to start writing again. It feels weird and makes me anxious, but I’m going to dive in and begin. In the meantime, here’s the video from my academy. My brother and I put it together based on GoPro footage recorded by the other cadets. Enjoy!

Thomas M. Watt

Life Update – 8/14/2016

Waddup, waddup.

So I’m 12 weeks into my fire academy with only 2 weeks left to go. I know that I left my last short story on a major cliff hanger, but it has been so long since I last posted on here I felt it was more necessary to update you on all I’ve been up to.

The fire academy has taught me an enormous variety of new skills. I learned how to operate a chainsaw for the first time in my life, and a few days ago I had the opportunity to carve a five-cut hole in a roof over a working fire (a technique referred to as vertical ventilation). I’ve become comfortable using an SCBA (self-containing breathing apparatus), which is what firefighters don in order to breathe inside a burning structure.

This vertical ventilation picture is from my academy, and the guy with the saw could even be me (even I can’t tell). The fire is in the room directly below us, which is why we are so smokey.

In order to prepare us for the worst, part of our training required us to crawl through confined spaces wearing our turn-outs (firefighter outfits) as well as our SCBAs. One area was known as the confidence course.

This space was basically a trailer that is pitch black once they shut the door on you. The interior is a maze from hell – one that includes ladders and unexpected drop-offs. In order to pass through it successfully, we had to squeeze through narrow openings, navigate through total and complete darkness, and climb up and down ladders and slides. This is NOT a drill for the claustrophobic.

One confined space drill that was much worse than the confidence trailer was the X-box (no, not like the video game console… not at all).

It’s called the ‘X-box’ because that’s what a box with criss-crossed wires looks like.

The X-box is rectangular box of wood with wires running through it everywhere. We were required to crawl through this confined space wearing our turnouts and SCBAs with a hood covering our eyes in seven minutes or less. At one point when I was passing through, the wires prevented me from moving forward or backward. I began breathing frantically and felt like a trapped rat. While this was going on, one of our instructors was yelling at me to give him a proper LUNAR (Location, Unit, Name, Air, Resources). A lunar is the distress call a firefighter gives when they are trapped in an environment with an immediate threat to life and health. Here’s an example:

Firefighter: Mayday mayday mayday!

Incident Commander: Clear all traffic for emergency broadcast.

Firefighter: This is firefighter Watt with interior attack. I’m entangled in wires on division 1, alpha side of the building. I’m down to my last quarter of air, and I need a Ric team with wire cutters to extricate me.

In the next few weeks I’ll be able to post the academy video for you all to see some of the footage for yourselves. I’m really happy I’ve had the opportunity to acquire all of this knowledge, as it is not only preparing me for a career in the fire service, but I also have a wealth of personal experience that I can use in future action/adventure stories. I won’t be as busy as I have been, so I should be able to post on here more frequently.

Oh yeah, one more thing – I have a new girlfriend : ). Say hello to Riley!

Thomas M. Watt