Storytellersunplugged

(ON WRITING PROSE, DIRECTING FILM, BEING A HALF-ASS TEACHER, AND THE FULFILLMENT OF LIFELONG DREAMS)

by John Skipp

Dear gang –

I have a sort of confession to make.

And I hope you won’t hate me for it.

I never went to school to be a writer. Took my last creative writing class in junior high, where I wound up editing the fiction section of the school newspaper.

Never took advanced courses. Never took a single course in Literature. Dropped out of high school, lucked into a special school for rich kids and troublemakers with an “in” (I was one of the latter: my dad was in the government, and that’s how I snuck in). Graduated with A’s and D’s.

Never went to college. Never took a writer’s workshop. Never joined a writer’s group (or a writer’s organization, for that matter).

I learned a lot from elementary school English. Learned to spell. Learned basic grammar. Got hooked on the language early, courtesy of Dr. Seuss, and never looked back. (THANKS, MOM AND DAD!)

But past that, it was all about reading and writing voraciously, on my own time. Writing mostly songs, through high school – I wanted to be some sort of weirdo genius rock star – and then devolving into grandiose schemes that ultimately came to naught.

It was only after months spent dreaming up an elaborate, tripped-out Fellini-esque motion picture – and realizing I was light years from manifesting such a dream – that I began to write fiction in earnest.

It was the cheapest, least complicated means at my disposal for communicating things I desperately wanted to express.

And it was something I had a knack for.

And I could do it all by myself.

So I just started writing writing writing. Writing a short story that turned straight into a novel. Part one of a trilogy. Which never got past book one. And shitloads of short stories. And then ANOTHER book one, for ANOTHER trilogy (actually, kind of the same one, reconfigured).

And so on and so on, until I finally (after more than 50 rejections) sold a short to TWILIGHT ZONE.

And then took off from there.

But my point is: I NEVER SET OUT TO BE A BOOK-WRITING GUY. Or at the very least, that was not my early lifelong dream.

I always wanted to make happenings happen. To create live events that would communicate to crowds.

To create artifacts, live, that could be viewed and enjoyed forever.

Writing books became my form of performance art.

And to this day, when I sit down to write, that’s pretty much how I view it.

But my heart is in collaborative arts, which is why winding up in collaborative writing arrangements has always suited me fine.

I like total self-propelled integrity in my work – and I love alone time, which means I LOVE WORKING ALONE – but I really love bouncing off of madly-gifted others, in the course of the creative process itself.

Thinking about people with talents other than my own – people I love to be around – and then teaming up with them, to elicit stuff that none of us could do alone.

Which brings me to directing. Now.

And I guess this is the real confession part.

I JUST WANT TO MAKE MOVIES FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE.

———-

Last week (well, almost two weeks ago), I wrapped up shooting on a 15-minute spec for JAKE’S WAKE, the feature film that I will make my director’s debut with.

Preparing for it – for that 15-minute spec – was the single most arduous and all-encompassing project I have ever engaged in.

It wasn’t just writing the script (starting with an idea for a short film that I got almost three years ago). Having a solid story, a cool collaborator (the brilliant screenwriter/actress Laura Bahr), and a couple of weeks to do it in was almost the easy part.

Then it came down to getting financing committed.

Fortunately, I found a great production partner in the guy I wrote the lead role for: my bro Stephen Walter (uncle of my children, and a Robert DeNiroid force of fucking nature unto himself). He bankrolled the thing, at a low but sizable cost, and partnered with me in pulling the rest of the gang together.

We hired an ace line producer named Ed Polgardy, who assembled a low-budget crackerjack crew, and budgeted everything out to a tee. (Ed is a god.)

Then it was time for casting.

I went to a website called NowCasting.com, where L.A.’s hungriest multitudes gather to let themselves be known.

Aside from Laura, Steve, and Cody Goodfellow (the brilliant author for whom I wrote the part of “Gray”), the roster was wide open. I knew I couldn’t afford even NOMINAL stars, from within the horror genre. We had to go with virtual unknowns, who would work for love, a pittance, good food, and the hope that awesome footage would result. Not to mention a shot at the feature.

Interestingly enough, the part of the recovering junkie/hooker “Evangeline” was the one we got deluged for. Hundreds of women lined up for the part: most of them gorgeous, quite a few of them gifted.

The second I saw Alisha Seaton, I knew she was the one.

She had the haunted look, the amazing face, the depth and conviction and chops that I sought. I just looked at her photo, and said, “That’s Evangeline.”

Then I looked at her reel. And she was terrific.

So I checked out her website, and saw that she’d just starred in a DVD feature called DARK REALITY. I ran straight to Blockbuster and checked it out.

Didn’t love the film – I’m gettin’ tired of torture films – but I loved every speck of her performance. There was no doubt that she’d deliver.

And as it turned out, she did.

Then there was a woman named A.K. Raymond. She wrote in for Evangeline, but I saw her as “Esther”: the fucked-over wife of Steve’s corrupt evangelical, Jake. She had class. She was lovely. And again: she had staggering depth.

She came in, and read for Esther, and knocked it out of the park.

And so with the rest of the cast: some from the website, some from actor friends. We got Kerr Seth Lordygan (late of Clive Barker’s staged L.A. plays) to play Evangeline’s gay hardass buddy, Christian. We got Garrett Liggett (a pal and student of Sid Haig) to play Mathias, the Bible boy. We got stuntman Steve Stone to hang around till he got killed. And we got stage veteran Peter Pano to play Esther’s houseboy, Eddie.

All of them were trained stage actors, and so we ran the spec script as a play: rehearsing it over and over, everybody settling into character as they blocked out their moves, established their relationships, and nailed down their reality.

Then it was time to shoot.

At the last minute, we lucked into Laurence Avenet-Bradley, a supremely focused and wonderful French woman who was director of photography for all of her husband Brian’s horror films (DARK REMAINS being the latest, coming out on DVD next week).

Once hooked up, we worked over every single shot that we’d be taking, over the 20-hours-in-two-days that we’d have to pull this off. She drew elaborate diagrams of every camera move, right up until 1:30 on the Friday night before we began shooting.

But because we put so much pre-production care into every second of the film we were about to shoot…

…we were able to GET ALMOST ALL OF IT.

Which is to say – as the hours blew by – that we got every shot we absolutely needed, in order to tell that story through.

Because I did my homework – and EVERYBODY ELSE DID, TOO – I was able to sit back, during the actual shooting, and barely lift a fucking finger.

Saying “ACTION!” at the beginning of every take.

Saying “CUT!” as they executed their moves.

And just watching the magic take place.

As they nailed it, again and again.

Bottom line: it was a dream come true.

And moreover, it was a LIFESTYLE, AFFIRMED.

Now all I have to do is edit it together. (With an experienced badass editor, of course.)

Then get it out there, kickin’. So that I get to do it again.

Because I love this more than anything.

And I just never want to stop.

——

So what was my point?

Oh, yeah.

I LOVE MAKING MOVIES. I trained for it – actually putting myself through years of school – to get to the point where I might actually do it well.

I never felt that need, with writing fiction.

It was just something that I did.

But I think about creative dynamos I’ve known – like Oscar-nominated actress Susan Tyrrell – who felt that her art was a cheat and a con. It came SO EASY TO HER that she honestly had no respect for neither it nor herself.

But God, she was great.

Just a natural, with a gift.

So maybe I’m more excited about making films, right now, because it’s something that I’m REALLY HAVING TO WORK AT. Something that makes me push myself beyond my natural gifts to get to.

In that sense, I feel like I’m a lousy writing teacher, because all I seem to be able to say is DO WHAT COMES NATURAL, AND DO ITS ASS OFF!

But if it DOESN’T come easy, that certainly doesn’t mean it’s not worth doing.

For those of you who earnestly dream of being a writer, and for whom it is a struggle, I wish you joy and fortitude. And I wish you all the best.

Maybe you need all the technical training – schooling, work-shopping, peer-grouping – available, in order to achieve your goals. That’s certainly what’s now happening to me.

Or maybe you just need to trust yourself, and go for it, and make mistakes all along the way, in order to find that thing that will allow you to cut loose, and deliver all that your soul/life/destiny demands.

Whatever you need, go get it.

And remember: if you want a chance, and no one will GIVE you a chance, you’re gonna have to TAKE a chance.

—————

This, I know, is a pretty shitty essay. And I’m really very sorry.

But it’s an honest and sincere soul-dump, at least, from a singular stretch of this boy’s weird, adventuresome life.

I hope there was something useful in it.

And, as always: I LOVE YOU KIDS!

Yer pal, on the cusp of a whole new world,
Skipp