Let’s face it. Most of us dream about writing the big books that shoot to the top of and linger on all the bestseller lists. Then Hollywood snaps them up and makes them into megahits that set new box office records.
But what makes a book big? There are how-to guides out there that propose to tell you what a Big Book is and how to write one. Albert Zuckerman’s Writing the Blockbuster Novel and Donald Maas’s Writing the Breakout Novel spring to mind.
Over at Muderati, Alexandra Sokoloff has a great discussion going on about what makes a book big. What’s your definition?
Almost a year has passed since screenwriting teacher and script consultant Blake Snyder died. To commemorate that sad anniversary, the Save the Cat! folks have repeated his last blog post, which reminds us to be patient with ourselves as we learn any craft.
It’s the kind of wise advice that bears rereading.
I’m as shallow as the next girl when it comes to eye candy. It’s in my blood. My 80-year-old mother still appreciates male pulchritude as much as I do. Ask her about it when she turns to look at a handsome man, and she’ll say, “I may be old, but I’m not dead.”
Last night, I went to see “X-Men Origins: Wolverine” with my children. I enjoyed every shot of Hugh Jackman’s magnificence and all the other fine-looking men in the cast. Finest of them all was Daniel Henney as one of the villains, Agent Zero.
This is him. He’s 6’2″. I hope I’ll be seeing lots more of Mr. Henney.
Two posts in the same week? Can you stand it?
So, today I went to see “Last Chance Harvey” because I think Emma Thompson is amazing in everything and a romantic comedy about people who aren’t 20-something or even 30-something is always welcome. Yes, Virginia, there is love after 40, and sometimes it’s better.
Anyway, “Harvey” has its charm. A decent script and winning performances from Emma, who is always wonderful, and Dustin Hoffman, who reminded me how affecting he can be with the right material. Great cinema? No. Profound? No. This story doesn’t try to be more than it is–a sweet little movie about people who find each other after both had given up on having love in their lives. There are some laughs, and it’s a pleasant way to spend an hour and half.
Go see it.
Several years ago, my mother and I took the Coast Starlight from Los Angeles to Seattle. Walking through L.A.’s lovely old Union Station, I imagined Hedy Lamar, resplendent in furs and a smart hat, hurrying to catch a train. Or Tyrone Power, all masculine beauty and elegance, doing his patriotic duty and heading to Marine boot camp in San Diego in 1942. Movie stars. Hollywood history. Glamour. I felt positively gorgeous myself.
The 80th Academy Awards are on this Sunday ( 8 p.m. ET on ABC, if you’re interested), and I’ll be glued to my television. And that’s not just because my man George Clooney is nominated for Best Actor this year. I never miss the Oscars if I can help it, even if I haven’t had a chance to see most of the movies. All those beautiful people in fabulous clothes and jewels. Seeing the cinematographers and the directors and–yes!–the writers who make movies happen. Getting teary-eyed when they flash the photos of all the movie people who’ve died since the last Academy Awards. I even like the dance numbers. For a little while, I’m part of Hollywood, almost an insider.
So I’m starstruck. Yep, shamelessly so. It’s fun to see actors I recognize. Once, Jackie Chan was on my flight to Los Angeles. I smiled at him as I passed through first class to steerage, and he smiled back. I passed Tony Shaloub walking along in L.A.’s Larchmont Village. In “X-Files” days, a friend who worked on the show introduced me to David Duchovny. In Park Slope, Brooklyn, I saw John Turturro eating a bagel and reading the paper in a coffee shop. It was even thrilling to see Paul Winfield come out of a store in the Beverly Center in Los Angeles, clad in a yellow caftan.
And it’s all because I love movies. Hollywood may be artifice, but the movies, they’re magic. There’s nothing profound or original about saying it, but it’s true. And that’s why I love the Oscars. They honor the magic and the magicians.
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