Wednesday, August 18, 2010

A Sort-of Update on the Writing Front

Speidi, moving vigorously, Elisabeth Hasselbeck, any performance involving Joss Stone/John Mayer and an aging black soul legend, humidity (my hair), Frangela, all condiments, sunglasses indoors, and the following sentence: "Hey, Tia, how's the writing going?" - Tia Williams
It's been a while since I've written about my writing... but since I'm committed to posting on this blog three times a week - and I'm still in pep-talk mode on a lot of personal matters outside of the blog-world - I might as well bring up my screenplay.

One of the reasons why my writing takes too long to finish is because I have the tendency to style and art-direct my characters. This does not always work for novels and short stories (seriously, there's only so much droning on and on about blouses and polo shirts that the average reader could take), but I find it easier to show more and tell less by using clothes as a narrative device in my screenplay.

So far I have included the following details:

- His-and-hers Ed Hardy shirts;
- A short-sleeved barong;
- A Panama hat, not unlike what this guy is wearing; 
- Several variations on the khaki-and-polo retail uniform, inspired by Best Buy employees;
- White veils during a church scene;
- An awkward pairing of a conservative blouse with jeans;
- A virtual parade of off-the-rack suits;
- Sweats and a beat-up T-shirt worn by the female protagonist during her Moment of Catharsis; and
- A semi-fictional version of this jacket, worn by (who else) the main love interest:

(I don't know if this one's still available, but I do know that this Old Navy one comes pretty close.)

And now there's a scene where said protagonist emerges from the subway to meet said love interest for lunch, which means that I now have to procrastinate look through the Internet retail sites for a sandal that looks comfortable and sexy at the same time, since it looks like they're doing a lot of walking. Behold:

Clarks Women's Erda Sandal

...And now I must find an excuse for my heroine to wear serious stiletto heels. Not in a cliched, Cinderella-ish way, but as one of many subtle details in the story. Maybe - in spite of her outward dorkiness - she had a pair of them all along, and waiting to dig them up for a special occasion?


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