Semi-Urban Cartography

Poetry:

Dos Passos, Artistically Rendered

In my hands is the Dos Passos Review Volume #7, Issue #1. On its 46th page is the poem, “South China Sea” — my poem. I’m critical of it. I don’t like the spacing — I like my poems bunchy, contained. Some of my lines, now that they are memorialized on paper don’t spring so strongly toward me:

…against clapboard down,

I don’t know what the word “down” is doing there. It feels messy, either evidence of poor comma usage or poor editing.

…did within the border of forecast,

A line from somewhere I’m not sure where.

Sure the poem is very old, an antique in my collection, springing from experience in the summer of 2000. Perhaps the word “down” made sense then, or the “border of forecast” was more self-evident. Again, I’m not certain about some of the poems lines.

I do however like this poem. It brings me some joy to see it in print, in a review I think feels right in my current poetic career arc. The image of two bodies, cradled like the South China Sea, Kenny Rogers on the Alpine Tavern jukebox brings me back to a certain place I can never return to. This is why we write.

Screenwriting:

On Wednesday of this week I received word from the Nichol Fellowship. My feature length script, “The Ancient Gallery” did not advance with the other 326 other screenplays into the second round. My script fell in with the seven thousand odd others deemed not worthy of a second read. It was a bitter pill, although one I’ve swallowed annually since 2001. The letter is politely written. I knew the methodically paced thriller had little chance to receive recognition being a genre piece. The Fellowship wants more Todd Solondz than franchise style horror. It’s a contest that rewards existential thinking/writing more than a piece with blockbuster potential. Make a list of those scripts that win/place in the contest: they’re hardly household names. The writers may go on to work on recognizable work, but the Nichol is an entre to that world.

What’s particularly bitter about this revelation is that 2010 marks the last year I will be eligible for consideration in the contest. One of the primary stipulations for entry is that writers cannot have earned more than $5,000 in screenwriting. By next May when the scripts are due for the 2011 screening, I will likely have exceeded that threshold by three or four times. Having reached something like a financially profitable place with my screenwriting is the biggest breakthrough in the last year and I’m not shy about saying that. I’ve earned around $7,000 this year already and am looking at potentially more in the very near future. Money is a bi-product of good writing, I believe. One missing for me from the beginning. I’m pleased with being paid. Until now it’s been the one thing I’ve never done as a writer. If it wasn’t for that nasty annual goal of winning the Nichol Fellowship.

I’ve promised myself not to bemoan success . I do however reserve the right to comment on it like I did my experience seeking it out. The joys of amateurism vanish as one ceases to be amateur. In my social work career the “aw shucks” moments have gently ebbed with each state meeting and 4:00pm conference call about slashing state budgets. The same holds true creatively. I’m in that phase of my career development where I can no longer scheme about my first breakthrough. The first one has come already and I am cultivating its evolution. They may get bigger. They just cease to wear the costume of breaking new ground.