I Live With My Editor

copyeditorEvery Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday morning my editor (aka my husband) comes downstairs with a varying report on my blog of the day. (Knowing for sure I have at least one consistent reader makes my heart sing. Thank you, honey.) He’ll say things like “there are some problems with today’s blog” or “I liked your blog today” or “just one fix today.”

Since the Monday and Wednesday blogs archive, I fix those changes. Thursdays I don’t save. Sorry for you that you have to see the less perfect version, but if you ever go back and re-read one, most likely my editor and I will have it all cleaned up.

My first reaction used to be from my ego. “Oh, great. Now I’m going to look like I don’t know how to use the word there.” This really speaks to my own tendency to judge companies/FB statuses/emails from adults/menus that have multiple spelling errors as lacking in intelligence somehow.

I’ve come to learn that this is often not true and in fact keeps people from bravely expressing ideas, comments, themselves. The judging thing is my issue, my own personal vulnerability. I’ve given over to firmly believing wherever you are on the spelling and grammar spectrum, putting down your thoughts and showing who you are is the most important thing.

So I’m following my own advice. What you always get from me is first draft thoughts. I don’t spend time editing myself (that’s my editor’s job) and trying to sound anything else other than what I am in that moment, speling errrrors and alll.

What’s going on with the Movies?

writing2.jpbI’m not hard to please. Really, I’m not. It doesn’t take an Academy Award winning film to capture my interest.

What’s going on out there this summer in Movie-Makinig Land, though, is beyond me. Did the film editors all quit? Go on strike? Develop a new philosophy no longer based on “Casablanca” as perfect film?

We see a lot of films and we live in a rural area so we don’t have access to many indie-artsy films. This is hard for me as I was known to shoot out 45 minutes across town by myself to catch a good indie at some random theater when we lived in the LA area. My sample, then, must be taken into consideration. The films we’re seeing are the national screening blockbusters.

Here are the last few: “World War Z,” (shockingly, not horrible), “This is the End,” (pretty darn horrible–James Franco, what were you thinking?), “Man of Steel” (aka Superman backwards with lots and lots of smashing things), “Into Darkness,” (same-same),  “Mud” (loved that), “The Heat,” (funny and a relief after the others), “The Lone Ranger” (ehhhh) and so on. But here’s what stands out most: THEY’RE ALL SO STINKING LONG.

When did the running time decide to take on a life of its own and dominate an evening? Even the formulaic ones go on forever, like a novel that just refuses to end even though it was over three quarters of the way through. There’s a special place in hell for those story writers. These film writers need to visit there.

It’s not that I don’t have the attention span (some may argue, but they’re not writing this.) It’s just so freaking unnecessary. Do we really need to see Superman and the gang from his home planet, Krypton, battle for 40 minutes? Or Tonto and The Lone Ranger walk on top of a train (or crawl beneath it) for what seems like hours?

Let’s bring back the story part. On a recent viewing of “Casablanca” on the big screen, we were captivated. No color, no General Zod, just a good-old fashioned story straight up. I’m ready for more of that. And if we can pull that off, Hollywood, I won’t even complain when you try and sneak an extra 20 minutes on a two-hour running time.