It was my general plan and intention to stop writing shorts when the coming of the new year and move steadfast into production but as the camera, steady cam, and several key components have yet to arrive including a new power adapter for my laptop and as a concept for yet another new idea has more than popped into my but rather is more like haunting me… I have found myself sketching out ideas for yet another new short.
For me in writing I have found it is usually more difficult to start with the theme. Usually it is easier to start with an image or a feeling or an idea and then themes in life which are important to me seem to passively inject themselves into the project. This is not always the case – I’m working on a feature on the medical industry which started with that axe to grind. For some reason the story followed quite easily from the theme on that project (tentatively entitled “The Needle”) – But usually it is harder for me to write from theme.
Problem is: with this project that’s exactly my starting place.
This theme is a favorite of mine: the male/female dynamic. I have a friend whose a famous musician and actor who walked up to me after he got off the treadmill and told me a lyric came to him. It was something to the effect: it takes a woman to make a man feel like a man. That stuck. It was akin to the thoughts that go through my head: how man is so dependent on woman for his own validation but how the reverse is not so.
Confusion is nothing new. It’s always present at this stage. The head feels clouded with ideas, the direction – unknown.
Usually at this point I start writing questions: “How do I feel about this or that?” “How can I say this?” “What’s my story here?” “What am I trying to say?”
I found myself vamping on this theme with no end in sight:
Do women really not need men the way we need them?
What about the mystery of being a woman? They seem to have this incredible power at hiding things from us men. There is a mystery about women that men don’t seem to have. And we are a more curious sort. Are we more curious than they are? We like to unravel their mystery. But, they seem hardly interested in ours.
Why dosn’t it take a man to make a woman feel complete? Does it? Maybe it does but they are better at hiding it? At being mysterious?
Why do they look at us like we’re savage apes while we look at them with such awe? We worship the female form but they don’t worship the male form. This makes me feel neglected. This doesn’t feel fair.
How can I make a poetic short (when I say poetic my intention is to show more through images rather than dialog) on this subject?
On and on the questions go…
And, to my amazement the answers usually come after I ask them and a lot sooner than I’d think when asking them in that utterly confused state. From where? I don’t know.
They usually come but haven’t come yet.
Confusion is nothing new.