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Though I do not think Lynn and I were very highly judged with our co-written dialogue with F. Scott Fitzgerald being our “ghost writer”—primarily because the first draft had less conflict and was more visual than oral communication (hence, my falling on the floor as a drunkard) (besides, the stakes were high; we had to compete with a hilarious dilemma between the plastic surgeon, a cripple, and her momma, as well as a Mamette interpretation of two women fighting intensely over a parking spot)—I still feel like that this event right here captures the essence of the Santa Barbara Writers Conference, in so many ways. This exercise here was indeed the highlight of my experiences in the past week of “chaos”—or my perception of chaos (especially since it was the first time I had ever attended such a conference!).
This experience and the conference as a whole pushed my limits as a writer. Co-scripting a dialogue is a very intimate process, and I was forced to get to know a person—in this case Lynn—very, very fast. Like, within a half an hour. I learned quite a few things about myself: (1) I have the ability to bend and adapt to a great degree to the other person I am collaborating with (in this case, my mind was going the speed of light and my partner’s mind was much slower-paced, which is understandable, because I think my brain is naturally on speed, even though I have never taken meth before), (2) I learned that even though I am a rather serious, satirical writer when I am in my own brain, when combining my brain with other brains, I become increasingly and rapidly more slapstick comical, (3) since I thrive off of healthy competition, I was desperate and pushed my “acting” visual-communication limits and fell to the floor as a drunkard to compensate for our rudimentary script. Though, we had two highlights of our dialogue. The first highlight was when Roderick commented on how he could not keep track of everything in his life, let alone the number of martinis he had. The second highlight was when Jenny proclaimed, “What’s the world coming to when everything’s fine and everyone’s drunk?”
This experience and the conference as a whole pushed my limits as a writer. Co-scripting a dialogue is a very intimate process, and I was forced to get to know a person—in this case Lynn—very, very fast. Like, within a half an hour. I learned quite a few things about myself: (1) I have the ability to bend and adapt to a great degree to the other person I am collaborating with (in this case, my mind was going the speed of light and my partner’s mind was much slower-paced, which is understandable, because I think my brain is naturally on speed, even though I have never taken meth before), (2) I learned that even though I am a rather serious, satirical writer when I am in my own brain, when combining my brain with other brains, I become increasingly and rapidly more slapstick comical, (3) since I thrive off of healthy competition, I was desperate and pushed my “acting” visual-communication limits and fell to the floor as a drunkard to compensate for our rudimentary script. Though, we had two highlights of our dialogue. The first highlight was when Roderick commented on how he could not keep track of everything in his life, let alone the number of martinis he had. The second highlight was when Jenny proclaimed, “What’s the world coming to when everything’s fine and everyone’s drunk?”
One more comment for now. After this experience, I have come to realize that an ultimate dream of my career is to become a part of a writers think tank in the design of a system, whether a film or television show, or whether it's protocol for colonizing Mars! Whatever!
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