You write a spec, and you pour your heart and soul and life into a spec, and you think that spec is the movie that's going to sell and get made... I've never heard of anybody that happened to. What happens is, you write a spec, people get it, they see your writing, they see you're good, they bring you into their office and they say, "Boy, that spec was really good - we'll never make that in a million years. We have rights to the board game of Monopoly. What do you think about a Monopoly movie?".
Robert Ben Garant
If car manufacturers made cars according to spec the same way software vendors make software according to spec, all five wheels would be of widely differing sizes, it would take one person to steer and another to work the pedals and yet another to operate the user-friendly menu-driven dashboard, and if it would not drive straight ahead without a lot of effort, civil engineers would respond by building spiraling roads around each city.
The plain truth is we are going to die. Here I am, a teeny spec surrounded by boundless space and time, arguing with the whole of creation, shaking my fist, sputtering, growing even eloquent at times, and then-poof! I am gone. Swept off once and for all. I think that is very, very funny.
I have a library room with four desks in it. On one of them is a spec, on one of them is a present work, on one of them is reading for a future work, on another desk is a novel I'm not doing until I'm a hundred and fifty, and things like that. But, contractually speaking, you just do one at a time when it's on and paid and live. You do your real day on one project and the rest is just literary life. Or intrusions.
Most aspiring screenwriters simply don't spend enough time choosing their concept. It's by far the most common mistake I see in spec scripts. The writer has lost the race right from the gate. Months - sometimes years - are lost trying to elevate a film idea that by its nature probably had no hope of ever becoming a movie.
When I moved to Los Angeles, I wrote spec screenplays. I was really poor, and I thought I was just gonna do this for a while to make a little money so I could write novels. I thought movies were a second-class art form. I condescended to it - I didn't know enough to know it was really gonna be hard.
When I moved to Los Angeles, I wrote spec screenplays. I was really poor, and I thought I was just gonna do this for a while to make a little money so I could write novels. I thought movies were a second-class art form. I condescended to it - I didnt know enough to know it was really gonna be hard.
The ascent to the divine Life is the human journey, the Work of works, the acceptable Sacrifice. This alone is man's real business in the world and the justification of his existence, without which he would only be an insect crawling among the ephemeral insects on a spec of surface mud and water which has managed to form itself amid the appalling immensities of the physical universe.
Trace the stars with your fingers in hopes you'll connect the dots, but don't get caught in the lines that aren't really there 'cause there is life in every breath you take and there is hope with every move you make, and every single mistake you think you've made should make you feel alive 'cause you only have one chance to live in this spec we call life.
The job is what you do when you are told what to do. The job is showing up at the factory, following instructions, meeting spec, and being managed. Someone can always do your job a little better or faster or cheaper than you can. The job might be difficult, it might require skill, but it's a job. Your art is what you do when no one can tell you exactly how to do it. Your art is the act of taking personal responsibility, challenging the status quo, and changing people. I call the process of doing your art 'the work.' It's possible to have a job and do the work, too. In fact, that's how you become a linchpin. The job is not the work.
HOMIE I'M STILL A BOSS, WITH A STREET AURA PLAY CHESS OFF THE BOARD, YNT ON BOARD YEAH I GOT THE GAME OFF THE BOARD AND I'M SO OFF THE BOARD WITH THOSE WHO IMPERSONATE IT AIN'T FLATTERY TO IMITATE YOU GOTTA BE THUG TO AFFILIATE WITHOUT A SHAVE, I GOT CLEAN FACE YOU TOO SPEC TO TELL YOU AWARE WHAT HECKLER IS, YOU AWARE WHAT LECTER DID? THESE STREETS SHIT FLUENT, GOT NIGGA BEEN GONE OVER DECADE WITH STREET INFLUENCE ALL THIS STREET ENDURANCE, YOU NEED SOME INSURANCE DO A LOT OF PAPER WORK, FUCKING NIGGAS WHO FUCK WITH ME WE CALL THIS UP MY PAPER WORK, YA'LL GIVING THESE SUCKERS PRAYS WHY DON'T YOU STAY FOR CHURCH AND WATCH YOU BE FALL YOUR BRAIN OUT THAT'S THE BOOK OF G, FIRST VERSE AND IT'S DEATH ON A HATER, WHAT YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT CURSE TAKE YOUR ASS ON A BOAT RIDE, WHAT YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT HEARSE GOT NIGGA BETTER THINK ABOUT IT COME ON NIGGA WON'T THINK ABOUT IT GOT NIGGAS READY TO KILL YOU WITHOUT A DIME JUST TO GET BRINK OUT
What is... ' She flipped through a few pages, looked up into his eyes. 'Is this... ?' 'My journal, ' he said, reaching out to glide a knuckle down her cheek. Her skin was so damn soft. She was a contradiction in terms to him, and one that he found endlessly fascinating: a woman with the inner strength to rival any Spec Ops member he'd ever known, yet she had such a kind, soft heart beneath that hard-won armor. Resilient. Independent yet willing to compromise. Formidable in her confidence and strength of will, yet gentle and loving. He loved her so hard it hurt. 'I bought it the night after you stayed at my place, ' he continued. 'I knew if I was going to have a real shot with you going forward then I needed to get my shit together once and for all. You said the writing thing really helped you so I called my counselor and talked to her about it. She thought it would be good for me too. So I wrote in it every day since. I've been working hard at it.' Taya leafed through the pages until she came to the end and looked back up into his eyes. 'It's full.' 'Yeah. Guess I had a lot to say.' The tenderness in her eyes slayed him. 'Nathan, I'm so proud of you.' Her pride in him made him feel twenty feet tall. He let out a relieved breath. 'I want to read it to you. That's my next step, if you're okay with it.' 'Of course it's okay. I'd love for you to read it to me, as long as you feel comfortable doing it.' 'That's the thing, I am. And I wouldn't be with anyone else except you. You make me feel... whole.' He didn't know how else to say it, how else to explain himself, except he needed her to know he was trying like hell to deal with his issues. 'I know I've got a long way to go before I get to the same place you're at, but I'm willing to put in the work to get there. I feel safe with you and I'm ready to move forward, let go of all the stuff that happened before. Like you said, I'm doing it for me. I'm sick of my past having any kind of hold over me. So I'm going to do whatever it takes to make peace with it.' Her answering smile lit up her whole face, made her gray eyes sparkle like gems. 'Then I'll gladly listen to whatever you want to say.' Warmth kindled in his chest. She did that; warmed him from the inside out, just by being her. 'Good, because I love you.' She froze, her eyes widening slightly. He nodded, laughed at her shocked expression. 'Yep, I love you. That's what I came here to say. I love you and I'm a better man because of it, but not as good a man as I'll be down the road if you stand by me.' Her eyes filled with tears and she flung her arms around him. 'I love you too, ' she blurted out against his neck. 'So, so much. And of course I'll stand by you.' Nate felt like his heart might burst. He hugged her hard. 'Would you move to Virginia with me? When your dad's strong enough. I know you need to be here for a while longer, but after that, I want you in my bed every night so I can wake up beside you each morning.' She gave a soggy laugh, her face still buried in his neck. 'There you go again with the romance.' 'Oh, baby, have I got plans for you.' He stroked a hand over her back, fascinated by the combination of softness and strength that was uniquely her. Then his stomach rumbled, making her smile. He was starving, hadn't eaten since lunchtime. 'Hey, you wouldn't happen to have any bacon in the house, would you? Because I'd kill for a BLT right now.