Jun

27

Screenwriter’s Bible

Filed Under Books, Career, Consumer Concerns, Mailbox | 10 Comments


The wonderful, wonderful reference book I’ve ordered from Amazon has finally arrived. Hurray! (I always order books from Amazon since books here in Switzerland are generally expensive, and the English titles I’m looking for are not readily available in Swiss bookshops.)

The Screenwriter’s Bible by David Trotter had received glowing reviews from satisfied Amazon customers in the past. And browsing through the 386-page book, I’m not surprised why.

No, I will not write a book review now. It’s too premature to do that. I have to read the book from cover to cover first before I attempt to post a comprehensive feedback here.

What I can say now, though, is this: The Screenwriter’s Bible seems easy to read, what with its nice font and large typeface, as it categorizes into digestable sections and chapters basic screenwriting principles and techniques.

Dubbed as “six books in one,” the book covers a lot of things needed in knowing the ins and outs of screenwriting. It basically includes a screenwriting primer, a workbook, a formatting guide, a spec writing guide, a sales and marketing guide, and even a resource guide.

As early as now, I know that the formatting guide, which presents correct formats for both movie screenplays and TV scripts, will be the most important section for me (well, it helps that I already have some working knowledge on how to write scripts for RTV presentations). It’s something I had long wanted to have for my screenwriting reference but never got around to buy; there had always been more pressing matters in the general scheme of things.

And so I rejoice now in the thought that, finally, I own a copy of The Screenwriter’s Bible — not forgetting to mention that it’s the 4th edition, expanded and updated — that will keep me company as I sink my teeth into my first ever movie screenplay project, hopefully sometime this year. I’ll take my time. Writing, after all, is a long creative process that requires intensive research and constant revision.

Who knows, my would-be screenplay, which can be loosely based on “the life of a salbutamol-dependent Filipino storyteller stuck somewhere in scenic Switzerland” (sounds familiar?), might just catch the fancy of an independent filmmaker someday. On second thoughts, that would not be an interesting story. My life here in Switzerland is generally langweilig (boring) by Filipino standards. I’ll think of something more interesting. There are lots of material out there, anyway. One thing for sure, I’d like to create something that will reflect life in a non-commercial way and without the pretentious trappings common in many art films.

*****

FIVE THINGS TO BE HAPPY ABOUT:

1.) The Screenwriter’s Bible by David Trotter
2.) Shopping for books on Amazon
3.) Seeing a package in the mailbox
4.) Brilliant art films
5.) International Academy of Film and Television in Cebu

Jun

26

Lausanne Reunion

Filed Under Family & Friends, Travel/People & Places | 6 Comments


Eight years. After eight long years, we’ve met again. But this time around the setting was not in Amsterdam; it was in Lausanne, his Swiss city of residence. Who would have thought that two old friends, who’ve lost touch with each other due to extreme busyness on both sides, would hook up again for a four-hour tete-a-tete?

Le Kroc (his old ICQ name) has not changed a bit — he’s still the charming and analytical French-speaking Swiss gentleman I know — except that his English has improved a million times ever since I last talked to him (that is, in October 1999, with my parents and his best friend who served as his translator and “chaperon” during our holiday in Holland). It seems that having an English-speaking Polish girlfriend has helped him tremendously in improving his oral English. Amazing progress.

Prior to our first meeting in Amsterdam, he took on the challenging role to “work” as my French language teacher on ICQ. And I was supposed to be his conversational English language assistant (the term “teacher,” in this particular context, sounds pretentious to me). That was the deal. But for some reason, both of us didn’t make so much progress to master our respective target languages at that time.

In the end, the language exchange program we had started online, which we continued in real-time in Holland, proved to be a bit stressful to maintain for the long haul, given our circumstances. A few months after meeting with Le Kroc and his friend during my European holiday with my family, I got so preoccupied with my two high-pressure jobs as an in-house writer of a Christian broadcasting network and a features correspondent of a newspaper company that I didn’t have the luxury of time anymore to have a social life, be it online or offline. He, meanwhile, got tied up with his computer programming studies and freelance videography work. The e-mails and ICQ chats between us soon became few and far between — until there was no more.

But when we met again last week, it felt like there had been no eight-year communication gap beforehand. An info gap that had actually left us both wondering at some point in time whatever happened to Le Kroc or to Chacha (that would be me). It was like we had just met the other day and were just resuming our conversation, albeit without the former lingusitic mish-mash that used to agonize us. Our stress-free chat (done mostly in English, thank God) over a sumptuous beef steak and pasta lunch meal at an Italian restaurant in Lausanne, then extended over a plastic cup of iced mocha and a mug of hot coffee at Starbucks, was surprisingly not awkward. Not at all. Perhaps it was because there was no more language barrier that strained both our ears and nerves in the past. Or maybe because we have more time in our hands now than before, now that we are both freelancers and have the distinct advantage of “controlling” our work hours.

We talked about many things. Chocolate-smelling collector’s stamps (his gift to me). Amsterdam miniature houses (my gift to him). Eating horse meat (his favorite, ugh). His freelance job. The German langauge, both High German and Swiss German. The French language. Ballroom dancing (he’s so much into it). Zurich people. Lausanne. Bilingual Biel. His brother now based in Tokyo. My father, now paralyzed by Parkinson’s Disease, who can no longer travel. My excessive body fat (how I had ballooned from 55 kilos to 72 kilos, thanks to the fattening power of Swiss cow’s milk and Swiss chocolates). Bicultural relationships. Being “older and wiser” (and wrinkled?).

We could have gone on and on, but when I looked at my watch, I knew it was already time for me to go.

Before we parted ways at the train station, we said good-bye with a Swiss beso beso (i.e. cheek-kissing three times), a common practice among friends here. Both of us went home with the other person’s new home address and telephone number scribbled on paper.

Pleasant reunions are indeed happy moments.

*****

FIVE THINGS TO BE HAPPY ABOUT:

1.) Reconnecting with old friends
2.) The comfy atmosphere at Starbucks
3.) Iced coffee
4.) The international feel of Lausanne
5.) Chocolate-smelling stamps from Switzerland

Jun

16

Righteous Anger

Filed Under Faith & Values, Language, Migrant Life, Society & Culture | 15 Comments


I’m normally a self-controlled, peace-loving person. Being a Christian, I would usually take the high road and not fight back even though I’m surrounded by rudeness. I would simply bite my tongue, pray for an extra supply of grace, and forgive that rude stranger in my heart — determined to be pro-active and not reactive. This has always been the case ever since I arrived in Switzerland exactly four years and four months ago.

But this morning’s incident downtown was an exception. I didn’t remain cool and composed after receiving a dose of oral rudeness in rapid French. I blew my top — in English.

A French-speaking Swiss shopkeeper got irked during the pre-shop opening hours when she spotted our car parked temporarily in front of her boutique, while my husband and I were unloading our wares and arranging them neatly on our stall table for today’s handicraft market. (All the sellers’ cars were parked temporarily on Marktgasse — generally a wide pedestrian area used as a location for tiangges on special days — as we, the stall renters, unloaded handcrafted products and waited for the police officer to give us some intstructions where to park. As a rule, market participants have the right to temporarily park their cars at the market place to unload and load merchandise before and after an outdoor market’s “opening hours.”)

Being the nice person that he is, my husband immediately went inside the car to park it elsewhere, despite the fact that there was really nowhere to go; it was a very congested pathway. Other sellers’ cars, most of which were parked in front of different store fronts, blocked his way to an alternative, temporary parking space. Besides, the police officer was not yet there (he came in late). We needed a parking ticket from him in order to park our car at the designated parking lot reserved for handicraft market participants.

My husband, who suddenly became logistically challenged, was on his way to pull out the car away from the spot of contention — to appease the shopkeeper — when I tried to help him and said, “Lovee, park here!” using both my hands to point at a vacant spot near our stall. I suggested this, knowing that it was just a temporary setup. Some of the sellers had their vehicles parked parellel to their market stands, waiting for the police officer to collect the parking fees and the stall rent.

Out of the blue, the shopkeeper suddenly barked at me in French from her shop 15 meters away where I was standing, pointing an accusing finger at me. My husband couldn’t hear her because he was already inside the car. Somehow, I understood what she was trying to say — that what I had suggested to my husband was wrong. I based it mainly on her tone. She kept on shouting at me in angry French, treating me like some kind of stupid alien. I took in a deep breath before I said in a diplomatic yet firm way, “I can’t undersand what you’re saying. I don’t speak French.” The other sellers, especially the Turkish one, whose market stand was beside ours and whose car was also parked in front of another store, took notice of the heated exchange that began between the irked Swiss shopkeeper in her thirties and the inexperienced Filipino stall renter who had suddenly become a victim of bullying.

She continued to berate me in her palengkera French, deliberately embarrassing me and my husband in front of all the other sellers. I paused before I hissed, “I don’t understand French,” controlling my already rising anger.

The shopkeeper suddenly stopped harassing me for a while as she groped for English words in her memory bank. Then she shouted, “No…no…! Don’t park there! The police will….”

That was it. To imply that we were doing something illegal was already too much for me. This extreme disrespect forced me to fight (and win) this particular battle. In a raised voice, I cut her short and said sharply, “My husband is already doing what you had requested him to do. What’s your problem? We are waiting for the police!”

Dead silence. The shopkeeper surprisingly said nothing, and resumed fixing the arrangement of her clothing items at her store front with a stony facial expression. At this point, I suddenly realized I really looked angry, ready to verbally fight for our rights anytime if I had to. And that was it. The French tirade stopped.

My clueless husband, who was at the steering wheel waiting for my hand signals, reparked the car where I told him to, after the Turkish seller approached and assured him in Swiss German that it was all right to do so (it was perfectly legal). He did the same thing, actually.

When you know you’re right, your words have the power to silence arrogant and erring accusers. Righteousness puts people in their place.

This morning, I made a rather bold move to put a discriminating Swiss shopkeeper in her place — and rightfully so.

In everything, there’s a season. A time to be silent, and a time to speak up. For the first time in my so-called Swiss life, I’ve chosen not to be meek in the face of rough intimidation. After four years and four months of Swiss residence, I’ve finally arrived at a point of self-assertion.

I’m pleased with myself.

(Note: I’m exhausted now, having participated in three local outdoor markets — click here, here, and here to view my Flickr photos — all in a span of one week. One more to go next Saturday. Hopefully, I’ll be able to post some bloggable stuff in the coming days.)

*****

FIVE THINGS TO BE HAPPY ABOUT:

1.) Opportunity to join outdoor markets
2.) Meeting nice market stand sellers
3.) Freedom of speech
4.) Courage to fight back when needed
5.) The English language

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