I’ve come to the conclusion that being a writer is being able to ask the right questions at the right time. “The hardest thing about being writing is knowing what to write”. - Syd Field.
But hey, it’s writing so who the fuck knows? We just try our measly best to create a story that people can remember for over an hour. A story that makes them seek out people who have also read it and when they find them, they reveal those treasured moments to them from the story as though there was five minutes left on earth. That’s the main aim I think.
Detective Hart: I’ve been trying to get you to talk for 3 months, now I’m begging you to shut the fuck up.
We’ve always defined ourselves by the ability to overcome the impossible. And we count these moments. These moments when we dare to aim higher, to break barriers, to reach for the stars, to make the unknown known. We count these moments as our proudest achievements. Are we lost on that? Perhaps, we’ve just forgotten that we are still pioneers. And we’ve barely begun. And that our greatest accomplishments cannot be behind us, because our destiny lies above us.
How can a man die better than by facing fearful odds. - Horatius
Make time for two documentaries that dissect the making of Orson Welles' masterpiece Citizen Kane.
Infographic of the day: This is both a fascinating look into the movie-making process and a stern warning to any amateur screenwriters out there. A anonymous top professional scriptreader spent the last year reading 300 prospective scripts for five different film studios and made notes on all the trends and problems that they spotted across what they read. Looking at the amount of scripts that were rejected and how often certain mistakes and cliches popped up, you imagine making an infographic was the only way for our anonymous scriptreader to deal with all the rubbish.
Farewell Phillip, you’ll be missed.
Let’s face it - English is a crazy language. There is no egg in eggplant nor ham in hamburger; neither apple nor pine in pineapple. English muffins weren’t invented in England or French fries in France. Sweetmeats are candies while sweetbreads, which aren’t sweet, are meat. We take English for granted. But if we explore its paradoxes, we find that quicksand can work slowly, boxing rings are square and a guinea pig is neither from Guinea nor is it a pig.
And why is it that writers write but fingers don’t fing, grocers don’t groce and hammers don’t ham? If the plural of tooth is teeth, why isn’t the plural of booth beeth? One goose, 2 geese. So one moose, 2 meese? One index, 2 indices? Doesn’t it seem crazy that you can make amends but not one amend? If you have a bunch of odds and ends and get rid of all but one of them, what do you call it?
If teachers taught, why didn’t preachers praught? If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat? In what language do people recite at a play and play at a recital? Ship by truck and send cargo by ship? Have noses that run and feet that smell? How can a slim chance and a fat chance be the same, while a wise man and a wise guy are opposites?
You have to marvel at the unique lunacy of a language in which your house can burn up as it burns down, in which you fill in a form by filling it out and in which an alarm goes off by going on. English was invented by people, not computers, and it reflects the creativity of the human race (which, of course, isn’t a race at all). That is why, when the stars are out, they are visible, but when the lights are out, they are invisible.