Thursday, March 24, 2011
slice of life
I recently had the opportunity to attend a sneak preview of Shannon Walsh's collective documentary À St.-Henri le 26 août, which will have it's première at Hot Docs next month. Loosely based on the NFB classic, À St.-Henri le 5 septembre (made almost 50 years ago), the film is a lovely, many-sided portrait of a Montreal neighborhood and the characters who inhabit it.
There is nothing better than a good documentary. Truth is not only stranger than fiction, it is just as entertaining. Some of the people we see in docs are so over the top that if they were fictional characters, no one would believe them. As a seasoned NFB veteran once told me, good characters are what make good documentaries.
The so-called "slice-of-life" genre reminds us of what life really is. Pursuing goals, chasing desires and battling antagonists takes up only a small percentage of real life, and yet these are the driving forces to which most fiction is chained. Real life is about minutiae: going to the convenience store, washing your car, getting ready for school or work. Our lives slip away unnoticed if we don't get enjoyment out of these moments. When we take the time to attune ourselves, we can get immense pleasure from the in-between times that would otherwise be forgotten.
Monday, March 21, 2011
emerging artist
A younger friend recently asked me if I had any words of advice for negotiating the transition between university and making a living as a creative type. Although flattered, I approached with caution, since it's easy to dish out advice from your armchair while the other person puts it all on the line. I don't want to be responsible for anyone else's life decisions--my own are enough to contend with.
That being said (my favourite expression, the perfect segue from a disclaimer), it got me thinking about that crazy period in your mid-twenties when you're fresh out of school. You have followed this rigid routine for as long as you can remember and then suddenly you're cut loose, floating in space. You are (at least I was) up to your ears in debt and acutely aware of the need to make money, but you are not yet jaded enough to give up on your dreams. It is a scary, exhilarating period that I have just barely left behind.
I can't really offer advice, but I can recount my own experience. I moved to the big city, got a day job that I enjoy well enough, and work like a maniac on the side trying to get my projects off the ground. So far so good.
I suppose there is one key idea in there that could qualify as advice: work like a maniac. Don't just dream--do! It is essential as an artist to never stop producing, no matter how busy you are trying to pay the rent. Productivity is creativity; you need to have something to show for all your talent. If you lose your momentum, it's tough slugging getting it back so keep at it, even if all you can muster is six hours a week.
By the way, if you entertain notions of going on non-working holidays or owning a home any time soon, you may want to choose a different career path. Maybe one day you will be able to have it both ways, but as an emerging artist you still have to prove to the world that you are worthy. Now is the time to get cracking.
That being said (my favourite expression, the perfect segue from a disclaimer), it got me thinking about that crazy period in your mid-twenties when you're fresh out of school. You have followed this rigid routine for as long as you can remember and then suddenly you're cut loose, floating in space. You are (at least I was) up to your ears in debt and acutely aware of the need to make money, but you are not yet jaded enough to give up on your dreams. It is a scary, exhilarating period that I have just barely left behind.
I can't really offer advice, but I can recount my own experience. I moved to the big city, got a day job that I enjoy well enough, and work like a maniac on the side trying to get my projects off the ground. So far so good.
I suppose there is one key idea in there that could qualify as advice: work like a maniac. Don't just dream--do! It is essential as an artist to never stop producing, no matter how busy you are trying to pay the rent. Productivity is creativity; you need to have something to show for all your talent. If you lose your momentum, it's tough slugging getting it back so keep at it, even if all you can muster is six hours a week.
By the way, if you entertain notions of going on non-working holidays or owning a home any time soon, you may want to choose a different career path. Maybe one day you will be able to have it both ways, but as an emerging artist you still have to prove to the world that you are worthy. Now is the time to get cracking.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
viewing distance
Please excuse my absence these past two weeks--I have been extremely busy in all spheres of my life, both the day job and the filmmaking (travel, grant deadlines, frantically rewriting in order to shop the script around, etc.). Anyway, hopefully the busy-ness will pay off with some opportunities down the line.
In the game of endless second-guessing known as rewriting, there comes a time when you have to step back. At this point, you cut things out only to turn around and put them back in, you rearrange things only to realize that you've killed the momentum, you endlessly say to yourself "what if I did _____ instead?" and follow dead leads until you drive yourself crazy. You absolutely hate what you've written and can't imagine why anyone would want to read, let alone make, your script. This is when it's time for a break, some viewing distance, so that when you come back to it after a while, you can make objective judgments or maybe even feel a sense of pride over that pile of paper you slaved over.
This is where I'm at with my latest project. But it's ok; I've got another one that's been calling my name for some time now. After a couple of weeks of resting my weary brain (and hopefully getting outside for a change), I will sit down give it the attention it deserves.
In the game of endless second-guessing known as rewriting, there comes a time when you have to step back. At this point, you cut things out only to turn around and put them back in, you rearrange things only to realize that you've killed the momentum, you endlessly say to yourself "what if I did _____ instead?" and follow dead leads until you drive yourself crazy. You absolutely hate what you've written and can't imagine why anyone would want to read, let alone make, your script. This is when it's time for a break, some viewing distance, so that when you come back to it after a while, you can make objective judgments or maybe even feel a sense of pride over that pile of paper you slaved over.
This is where I'm at with my latest project. But it's ok; I've got another one that's been calling my name for some time now. After a couple of weeks of resting my weary brain (and hopefully getting outside for a change), I will sit down give it the attention it deserves.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
how to write a (good) grant
Even though I'm totally exhausted after once again rushing to the finish line on my grants (many of the deadlines are on March 1st), I thought I would share a few things I've learned from my almost 10 years of experience writing applications and being on juries. (You'd think after that long I'd have learned to finish before the deadline, but so far it hasn't happened....)
Peer assessment juries are like lotteries. Sometimes you get one that just understands your work, and sometimes you don't. The reality is that usually no more than 10% of applications will get funded, so they have to unanimously love your proposal for it to make the cut. Unfortunately, success often has little to do with the actual idea and a lot to do with the way it's presented.
When getting started, pay special attention to the application form for each agency, and read ALL the guidelines carefully (I would even suggest printing them off so you can have them beside you as you write). NEVER re-use a grant you wrote for the Canada Council when applying to SODEC, and vice versa. You can recycle some of the content, but always be sure to present it in a way that follows exactly what is on the form, in the same order. This simple step will help you immensely, as jurors will quickly be able to skim through and see that you hit all the marks.
No matter how good your idea, one thing alone will ensure that you stand out from the crowd: great writing. I can't stress this enough. Not only must you be a competent filmmaker with a track record and a clear concept, you must also be a good writer in order to get money.
Make sure to edit what you've written. Ask someone to read it (preferably at least 24 hours before the deadline) and LISTEN to their suggestions. If something doesn't make sense to them, cut it or change it. Most of all, have someone else proofread for you; you'd be surprised how many things you'll overlook when you've been working for the last 14 hours straight and are running on no sleep. Juries hate spelling mistakes because they demonstrate sloppiness and a lack of commitment--they'd rather give the money to someone who is meticulous and hard-working.
Jury members usually receive a binder with 300-500 pages of reading material. They will thank you for being concise, not using a $10 word when a $2 word will do, and making sure that every sentence presents a clear idea, rather than running around in circles. If your writing flows like water and the concept is easy to define, they will see that you worked hard on your application and will most likely recommend you for funding.
If you should receive a rejection letter (a "Thin Letter," as a prof of mine used to call them), it might not be because they didn't like your project, but because you failed to explain it clearly. They should be able to visualize it as if it were right there in front of them. Call and ask for the comments so you can improve your submission next time, and never submit the same application at future deadlines without making changes. Whatever you do, don't unload a bunch of negativity on the funding officer because, although they don't decide the outcome of a grant, they can still be of help to you in other ways if you're on their good side.
Finally, remember that these are your peers and chances are you might know a person on the jury; I always caution against making enemies in this business, and now is the time when you really don't want personal disputes to come back to haunt you.
Peer assessment juries are like lotteries. Sometimes you get one that just understands your work, and sometimes you don't. The reality is that usually no more than 10% of applications will get funded, so they have to unanimously love your proposal for it to make the cut. Unfortunately, success often has little to do with the actual idea and a lot to do with the way it's presented.
When getting started, pay special attention to the application form for each agency, and read ALL the guidelines carefully (I would even suggest printing them off so you can have them beside you as you write). NEVER re-use a grant you wrote for the Canada Council when applying to SODEC, and vice versa. You can recycle some of the content, but always be sure to present it in a way that follows exactly what is on the form, in the same order. This simple step will help you immensely, as jurors will quickly be able to skim through and see that you hit all the marks.
No matter how good your idea, one thing alone will ensure that you stand out from the crowd: great writing. I can't stress this enough. Not only must you be a competent filmmaker with a track record and a clear concept, you must also be a good writer in order to get money.
Make sure to edit what you've written. Ask someone to read it (preferably at least 24 hours before the deadline) and LISTEN to their suggestions. If something doesn't make sense to them, cut it or change it. Most of all, have someone else proofread for you; you'd be surprised how many things you'll overlook when you've been working for the last 14 hours straight and are running on no sleep. Juries hate spelling mistakes because they demonstrate sloppiness and a lack of commitment--they'd rather give the money to someone who is meticulous and hard-working.
Jury members usually receive a binder with 300-500 pages of reading material. They will thank you for being concise, not using a $10 word when a $2 word will do, and making sure that every sentence presents a clear idea, rather than running around in circles. If your writing flows like water and the concept is easy to define, they will see that you worked hard on your application and will most likely recommend you for funding.
If you should receive a rejection letter (a "Thin Letter," as a prof of mine used to call them), it might not be because they didn't like your project, but because you failed to explain it clearly. They should be able to visualize it as if it were right there in front of them. Call and ask for the comments so you can improve your submission next time, and never submit the same application at future deadlines without making changes. Whatever you do, don't unload a bunch of negativity on the funding officer because, although they don't decide the outcome of a grant, they can still be of help to you in other ways if you're on their good side.
Finally, remember that these are your peers and chances are you might know a person on the jury; I always caution against making enemies in this business, and now is the time when you really don't want personal disputes to come back to haunt you.
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