Cyber Nation
Posted 05-22-2009 at 12:56 AM by VPTurner
Updated 05-22-2009 at 01:19 AM by VPTurner (Changed category..)
Updated 05-22-2009 at 01:19 AM by VPTurner (Changed category..)
Cybernation: The state or act of being cybernated or automated.
The year was 1990. I was 22. I had already spent several years looking out the figurative window to Hollywood. That was my dream, my destiny. I wanted to be a part of the magic. But like any magic trick, once you know the secret, what's behind the curtain or hidden beneath the stage, it has a tendency to lose its allure. The mystery is solved, so the pursuit of understanding ends.
Or does it?
When I studied acting in high school and college, I had a more profound respect for the actors in the movies. When I studied special effects in my late teens, early twenties, some of that wonder and intrigue from my early days watching Indiana Jones and Luke Skywalker was lost to me. And today after 20 years in the computer industry, ten of which specializing in 3D rendering hardware and digital video, I know intimately what lies beneath the cute animation and colorful textures of Nemo and his underwater world. But through all this study and breaking down of barriers to the unknown, there was still yet another mystery: the art of visual storytelling.
As I explored the various jobs available in the film industry during my teens, I was also exploring myself. What did I want to do with my life? Where did I want to go? Producer, director, actor, special effects artist, miniature model maker, cinematographer? What did I know well enough to break in? Well, not much. I had a background in construction, but I hadn't mastered it. I had a background in drawing and painting and model making, but I was still a novice relatively speaking. I did some acting to the point where I could hold my own on stage, but I certainly didn't look like Harrison Ford or have the physique of Arnold Swarzenegger. So what was the one thing that always stuck with me no matter what? What was the one area I could fall back on if nothing else? Writing. That had to be it. That was my ticket. If I could become a skilled writer, I could literally write my ticket into Hollywood.
Or so I thought.
Book after book, hour after hour, dollar after dollar spent on computer equipment and writing materials, I toiled to create my cinematic masterpiece on paper. The first draft took about 6 months and was 118 pages. It had a three act structure thanks to Syd Field, rhythmic pacing, proper formatting, and a definitive beginning, middle and end. I thought I had nailed it.
Cyber Nation, a play on Alien Nation, another popular film and television series of the time, was about a homicide detective on the trail to discover the secret behind a cybernetic appendage found at a disastrous and deadly crime scene. His journey would take him into the world of my antagonist, a narcissistic entrepreneur who believed that the perfect society, the perfect human, was a melding of man and machine. The story played out as a Dirty Harry meets The Terminator buddy cop film, a mixture of several Hollywood influences of the 1970s and 1980s. I even put the words at the top of the title page I thought should appear on the poster:
I thought I had something everyone wanted to see.
I was wrong.
While Cyber Nation got the attention of a few Hollywood agencies, I did not have a sellable script. My writing style and presentation of the material got decent marks. So what was missing? First of all, the collective unconscious is a nasty bitch who will stab you with a rusty fishing knife when you least expect it. And not having a solid understanding of why films work on an emotional level crippled the story. Don’t get me wrong, It was a fun read. Even today, it’s a fun read when I pull it off the shelf for nostalgia. I suppose that’s a testament to my writing style; there must be some raw talent lurking in these fingertips. But every element, every character, every situation was a cliché. I didn’t realize it then. Today, however, I can name every single movie and character who influenced the writing. And the key prop, the cybernetic hand, was that bitch with the rusty fishing knife. I had no idea Terminator II was in pre-production with that very same key influence driving the mystery and motivating the story. How could I know? I wasn’t plugged in.
Dejected, I moved into other aspects of life, trying to find my bread and butter because I refused to be a starving artist. The reality written on rejection letter after rejection letter told me I still had a long road ahead of me. Ironically, I found a solid niche in computer technology having grown up in Silicon Valley with a computer operating mom and an electronics engineering step dad. It was a latent skill that I tapped during the rest of my twenties to become the successful computer engineer I am today. I vowed to make a six figure income by thirty five, and I did it. Good for me. Now what? That nagging feeling, that passion, that fire burning deep down below still beckoned. Hollywood still called to me. The figurative window was still there, albeit a bit clouded and dirty. Well, it’s time to clean the window.
Book after book, hour after hour, dollar after dollar spent on writing materials in order to create the next great cinematic masterpiece on phosphor, I am at it again. I am breaking down the mysteries of the art of visceral storytelling and emotional impact, at least two of the key areas missing from the first attempt. Is there still a chance for failure? Absolutely. Except now, almost twenty years later, art imitates life. The computer and I are one. I am plugged in. Man and machine have melded.
I am cybernated.
So the journey continues. I have one completed feature script under my belt, one completed short, and about seven other feature scripts lurking in the back of my mind. Feature number two is in the drafting stage. It's a horror/thriller, a departure from the first script which was a sci-fi action thriller. I will of course return to sci-fi again because I have a firm foundation in actual science and technology now, but I need to diversify. I enjoy horror, too. And this script might actually have a budget within reach of someone looking for a new writer. But I can't stop there. My revised plan is to have at least five completed feature scripts before again making contact with the agencies. They need to know that I am serious this time. I need to prove it to myself, too.
The year is 2009. I am about to turn 41 in July. And today, my new life begins. In my late twenties, I set a specific goal to achieve by the time I hit 35, and I achieved it. Today, I set one for 45: the sale of a feature script.
Now I need to tackle that other nasty bitch: procrastination. Anyone have a rusty fishing knife I can borrow?
The year was 1990. I was 22. I had already spent several years looking out the figurative window to Hollywood. That was my dream, my destiny. I wanted to be a part of the magic. But like any magic trick, once you know the secret, what's behind the curtain or hidden beneath the stage, it has a tendency to lose its allure. The mystery is solved, so the pursuit of understanding ends.
Or does it?
When I studied acting in high school and college, I had a more profound respect for the actors in the movies. When I studied special effects in my late teens, early twenties, some of that wonder and intrigue from my early days watching Indiana Jones and Luke Skywalker was lost to me. And today after 20 years in the computer industry, ten of which specializing in 3D rendering hardware and digital video, I know intimately what lies beneath the cute animation and colorful textures of Nemo and his underwater world. But through all this study and breaking down of barriers to the unknown, there was still yet another mystery: the art of visual storytelling.
As I explored the various jobs available in the film industry during my teens, I was also exploring myself. What did I want to do with my life? Where did I want to go? Producer, director, actor, special effects artist, miniature model maker, cinematographer? What did I know well enough to break in? Well, not much. I had a background in construction, but I hadn't mastered it. I had a background in drawing and painting and model making, but I was still a novice relatively speaking. I did some acting to the point where I could hold my own on stage, but I certainly didn't look like Harrison Ford or have the physique of Arnold Swarzenegger. So what was the one thing that always stuck with me no matter what? What was the one area I could fall back on if nothing else? Writing. That had to be it. That was my ticket. If I could become a skilled writer, I could literally write my ticket into Hollywood.
Or so I thought.
Book after book, hour after hour, dollar after dollar spent on computer equipment and writing materials, I toiled to create my cinematic masterpiece on paper. The first draft took about 6 months and was 118 pages. It had a three act structure thanks to Syd Field, rhythmic pacing, proper formatting, and a definitive beginning, middle and end. I thought I had nailed it.
Cyber Nation, a play on Alien Nation, another popular film and television series of the time, was about a homicide detective on the trail to discover the secret behind a cybernetic appendage found at a disastrous and deadly crime scene. His journey would take him into the world of my antagonist, a narcissistic entrepreneur who believed that the perfect society, the perfect human, was a melding of man and machine. The story played out as a Dirty Harry meets The Terminator buddy cop film, a mixture of several Hollywood influences of the 1970s and 1980s. I even put the words at the top of the title page I thought should appear on the poster:
“Frank Morrison has received a hand from the Cybernetics Industry.
He just doesn’t know who, or what, it belongs to.
He just doesn’t know who, or what, it belongs to.
He’s about to find out.”
I thought I had something everyone wanted to see.
I was wrong.
While Cyber Nation got the attention of a few Hollywood agencies, I did not have a sellable script. My writing style and presentation of the material got decent marks. So what was missing? First of all, the collective unconscious is a nasty bitch who will stab you with a rusty fishing knife when you least expect it. And not having a solid understanding of why films work on an emotional level crippled the story. Don’t get me wrong, It was a fun read. Even today, it’s a fun read when I pull it off the shelf for nostalgia. I suppose that’s a testament to my writing style; there must be some raw talent lurking in these fingertips. But every element, every character, every situation was a cliché. I didn’t realize it then. Today, however, I can name every single movie and character who influenced the writing. And the key prop, the cybernetic hand, was that bitch with the rusty fishing knife. I had no idea Terminator II was in pre-production with that very same key influence driving the mystery and motivating the story. How could I know? I wasn’t plugged in.
Dejected, I moved into other aspects of life, trying to find my bread and butter because I refused to be a starving artist. The reality written on rejection letter after rejection letter told me I still had a long road ahead of me. Ironically, I found a solid niche in computer technology having grown up in Silicon Valley with a computer operating mom and an electronics engineering step dad. It was a latent skill that I tapped during the rest of my twenties to become the successful computer engineer I am today. I vowed to make a six figure income by thirty five, and I did it. Good for me. Now what? That nagging feeling, that passion, that fire burning deep down below still beckoned. Hollywood still called to me. The figurative window was still there, albeit a bit clouded and dirty. Well, it’s time to clean the window.
Book after book, hour after hour, dollar after dollar spent on writing materials in order to create the next great cinematic masterpiece on phosphor, I am at it again. I am breaking down the mysteries of the art of visceral storytelling and emotional impact, at least two of the key areas missing from the first attempt. Is there still a chance for failure? Absolutely. Except now, almost twenty years later, art imitates life. The computer and I are one. I am plugged in. Man and machine have melded.
I am cybernated.
So the journey continues. I have one completed feature script under my belt, one completed short, and about seven other feature scripts lurking in the back of my mind. Feature number two is in the drafting stage. It's a horror/thriller, a departure from the first script which was a sci-fi action thriller. I will of course return to sci-fi again because I have a firm foundation in actual science and technology now, but I need to diversify. I enjoy horror, too. And this script might actually have a budget within reach of someone looking for a new writer. But I can't stop there. My revised plan is to have at least five completed feature scripts before again making contact with the agencies. They need to know that I am serious this time. I need to prove it to myself, too.
The year is 2009. I am about to turn 41 in July. And today, my new life begins. In my late twenties, I set a specific goal to achieve by the time I hit 35, and I achieved it. Today, I set one for 45: the sale of a feature script.
Now I need to tackle that other nasty bitch: procrastination. Anyone have a rusty fishing knife I can borrow?
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