Ladies and gentlemen, we have been casted.

Please remain seated and make no sudden movements...

Danny Stoltz Casting Agency is cooler than the underside of a satin pillow. And Sally at Danny Stoltz casting is like a crazy wizard of spectacularity. She auditioned a bevy of fantastic talent for us and if ever I have felt in awe of what a person can do at their respective beloved day job, it is now. So we have a Rita. And our Laura. Mr. Eriksson is on board. And Sam. Our Sam is walking and talking.

I watched the audition videos in Kate’s cube at the beloved day job. I noted how different people said different lines, the way they paused here and sped up there, the size of their smile, the movement of their eyebrows, the narrowing of nostrils… Then something hit me.

No, not literally.

Ever see that episode of Quantum Leap where Sam Beckett leaps into the body of a concert pianist? In the middle of a concert? He looks out at the packed audience, the eager, open faces. He turns back to the piano. Sam Beckett is not a concert pianist. Oh boy. He pauses. It’s a long pause. Then he plays “Chopsticks” and walks off the stage. The audience goes wild at this fantastically wry ending to a wonderful performance.

That’s how I suddenly felt. People were taking me seriously. Reading the words I wrote. Giving these characters the same validity as a Charles Foster Kane, or even a Cosmo Castorini. It was like I, some hack off the street, had jumped into the body of a Film Producer, and no one knew! They’d fallen for my Chopstick script!

Then another thing hit me. The words they were saying…they were kinda good. Hearing the lines of dialogue spoken aloud by people who’d put some thought into them had made them come alive. And that’s the point of this whole endeavor. Breathe life into an idea. Make something where previously there was nothing. I took off my self-deprecating screenwriter pants and looked objectively at the words with a pants-less Producer gaze and I saw that they were good words.

And we haven’t even talked about the actors themselves. It was weird. Among the those who auditioned, there were four that just became the characters. A man named Corey delivered Mr. Eriksson’s lines with just the right amount of assurance and familiarity, his character toed the line between corporate suit and a likable human. He was our first definite.

Then there was Rita. Brandon knew just from the still shot who to pick. I had no idea until I saw the tape where this young lady named Ladawn brought humor and warmth and just the right amount of awkwardness to the role. Per-fucking-fection.

Laura came to us in the lovely form of Genevieve. Laura is a tough character to pull off. She really just has one scene with dialogue, wherein a complete stranger starts talking nonsense to her in front of her place of business. She’s halfway weirded out and halfway intrigued. She’s not meek, she’s not overly intense. She’s subtle. And Genevieve nailed it.

Finally there was Sam. This one is hard. This is our main character. With out Sam, we have nothing. Anyone wanting to watch this final project is gonna have to stare at this guy’s mug the entire duration of the film. He is our backbone. Our movie is an unformed puddle of flesh without him. He had to be right. The gentleman we picked has a face you can stare into. Just the right mix of handsome and interesting. His voice has that gravity you want in an aloof poet. Plus there was this… something. Sometimes you just know when a thing is a thing. And Jonathan is our thing.

Now begins the process of giving myself an ulcer trying to coordinate these people and our crew and the locations and the food and the equipment and all the other crap I haven’t thought of but will become desperately necessary at a moment's notice and, whoa, I’m getting light headed so tonight, I am going to drink and begin all that jazz tomorrow. And you better get ready, Mr. Tomorrow. I’ve got chopsticks.

Also too: Kate has offered to provide our desserts. She has a new Monster Machine Stand Mixer and I’ve had her baking before and let me tell you, if this thing all goes to hell, at least we will have something sweet and tasty to cram in our sobbing, slobbering mouths.

About My Cat

Don't mistake the quiet here as some sort of evidence that nothing is happening—far from it! We have (magically, thankfully, almost unbelievably) attained the services of an honest to goodness casting agency that has agreed to cast this little piece of work. The results of that incredible turn of fate are coming down the line shortly and you (all two of you out there in blog-reader land... Hi Dad!) will be the first to know what those results are.

I've secured a location. Ironically (by which I mean very deliberately) one of the scenes takes place in an office... and I work in an office! The beloved day job is allowing us access to film there. Big ups CB&S! Plus I found a coworker with production experience and she has agreed to help us. Whoop whoop, Karrie!

See it's all coming along nicely.

In the meantime I've been alive, doing stuff. I don't do much in the way of personal anecdotes here so, if you have a minute, I'll tell you a little about that stuff. It's not terribly interesting but I missed you guys so I just wanted to chat...

I've been listening to Pandora. It's place where music goes to be meticulously organized so that it may be delivered to the people in a precise, spot-on, and inordinately cool way. If you haven't checked it out yet, go now. All they want is an email address and so far, I've encountered no spam, just useful messages on how to improve and tweak a resource you never knew was indispensable. (Basically it works by having you pick "seed" songs or artists and they stream music to you that shares qualities with those choices.)

Currently, I'm listening to my "Writing Station". It's based on Peter Gabriel's soundtrack to The Last Temptation of Christ, and the music of God Speed You Black Emperor and Explosions in the Sky. No words. All songs are at least 7 minutes long. They go from soaring to grinding to quiet and back to flying. Listening to this, one is reminded of wheat fields as the wind blows through them, or burnt down, post-apocalyptic shopping malls with tiny shoots of green growing up through the rubble, or rain descending on deserted streets. This was the music I was listening to when I wrote the second half of the short. I think the music allowed the contemplation necessary to arrive at the specific ending we now have. Yum.

When I don't write movies (or commercials for grocery stores) I like to write stories. Did you know that one of my stories almost got into McSweeney's once? Print version too! No really! Yeah, we all know the relationship between almost, horseshoes, hand grenades, and everything else. Right now I'm brewing a story about scientists, disappearing birds, and faith/pride versus love. One of the characters is named Benito. Fun to say, yes? Ben-eee-toh.

We also rearranged the living room. This task involved a quick trip to Ikea (sometimes you want a square table to go next to the couch and you want it right now and it's 8pm on a Sunday and all the cute thrift shops have long since closed so you go to Ikea—surprise! I'm a freakin' American). But during this trip, our cat was locked inside the temporarily empty television cabinet. Poor Maude. When we got home she had to walk around the entire apartment and smell each and every thing in it. This little tale has little or no bearing on the world at large, but sometimes I wonder if I'm not misusing my Blog privileges by not relating minute, inconsequential details about my offspring and/or pets. So there you go. I talked about my cat.

That said, I must sign off. Triviality gives me hives. Thanks for stopping by.