myriad pieces of haphazard puzzles

I’m a relentless optimist. I’m also a no-bones-about-it realist. It’s a nice blend. Keeps me relatively stable and sane in what can be a career of dizzying highs (or so I’ve heard) and abysmal lows (first name basis frequent flier here).

And one of the things I’ve come to understand is you need both to effectively move through what can sometimes be the mystifying, frustrating process of being adapted from fiction to film (or TV).

And, believe me, I’m not slamming the process.

What most don’t realize is that moving a project forward in Hollywood, getting from A to B, is often dependent on a haphazard puzzle of myriad pieces somehow finding a way to snap together. It could take weeks. It could take months. It could take years. It could never happen. Some projects click quickly. Others less so. But the pieces need to come together, they need to fit and, as much as possible, they need to be perfect. And the one constant truth linking those two together, and everything in-between, is that you, as the writer, have zero say in how things inch forward. You just don’t.

Nor should you.

But this is the beauty of being a writer and one of the reasons I love what I do: when the no-bones-about-it realist starts to nag the relentless optimist, chipping away at his sunny disposition with perfectly reasonable doubts, the Writer gets to work.

Because not only am I a relentless optimist, a no-bones-about-it realist and a Writer (with that capital W), I’m also blessed with a creative mind that just…doesn’t…stop. The list of projects I have on my calendar currently stretch into 2020. And that’s not taking into account whatever projects land on my plate driven by other people, production companies, my publisher, anthologies, etc.

The Martuk Series. Eidolon Two. Eidolon Three. Eidolon Four. Eidolon Five. The third Martuk novel. A new project about magic and secret realms and dangerous monsters that lurk in plain sight, spanning different timeframes all at the same time. A potential three-book series centered around Mot from the Martuk books. Continued script adaptations for film, for TV.

So when I start to feel a bit grrrrrrrrrrrrr…I just flip it into work. And as I write, as words land on the page, hopefully stretching into paragraphs and then pages, chapter after chapter finally becoming a book or a short story or a screenplay or whatever, all those haphazard puzzles with their myriad pieces, something I can do nothing about, are putting themselves together. Bit by bit. Piece by piece. Phone call by phone call. Rescheduled meeting by rescheduled meeting. Email by email.

But, and this is important, when I get that email or that text or that phone call or whatever by whoever saying “Hey, let’s talk” it makes all the waiting – and furious writing – worth it. It really does.

Because another constant thread with this business is the courage to take a chance. Yes, get those pieces together and make ’em fit. Do what you can to guarantee as much as possible the largest audience possible. (Talk with me ’cause Lord knows I got ideas) But at the end of the day, you’re still rolling the dice and taking a risk.

It’s just what we do.

What’s my point with this? Maybe nothing. I’m not sure.

All I know is, as a writer, I’m lucky I drive the bus and can turn whatever impatience, curiosity or whatever I feel into work. Work that might, at some point, end up being part of yet another puzzle with pieces needing to be put together.

Which will lead me into writing more.

It really is a gloriously vicious cycle, ain’t it? 😊

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the weight of the impossible

A bit of a personal post today. A chance to vent, perhaps. Or just a chance to clarify what I’m feeling right now. And what is that?

The weight of the impossible.

Yeah. Sounds big, doesn’t it? The weight of the impossible? But that’s what it is because, silly me, that’s what I feel driven to achieve.

My choice, my doing, no one to blame but me. I know how high and difficult the climb is and yet I choose to continue. Choose to sacrifice and struggle for the smallest of steps forward. And we’re talking painfully small steps here. Like, laughably small.

And, no, this isn’t one of those “woe is me”-type of deals. Not at all. It is, like I said, a chance to vent and/or clarify what’s making my mood so heavy these days.

The weight of the impossible. I like that phrase. I don’t like how that phrase feels as I live it, but I like the heft of it as I write it. The solidity of the sentence. The cadence and rhythm. It’s a memorable phrase that perfectly captures my present journey.

And, honestly, it’s not like I’m the first doing what I’m trying to do. Thank god! This road is teeming with those who’ve walked before me. Who’ve struggled, fought, failed, fallen, stood up and eventually succeeded. Everywhere I look I see shining examples of the impossible having been done.

Right now, though, I’m surrounded by silence with no clue as to whether or not my efforts are known or seen or appreciated. I think “Yes” but I don’t know. Obviously, and I’m calling a spade a spade here, today is one of those days where the candle flickers and the dark grows darker and the doubt grows deeper.

But I still march on. Like a man in a long tunnel surrounded by deepest, darkest black who keeps putting one foot in front of the other because he knows without a doubt, with a faith that goes beyond reason or present reality, that there is an end, a fantastic end, and if he keeps walking he’ll find it.

That’s me.

So I keep writing, breaking down my long-term goals into shorter term bite-size achievable chunks — I’m somewhat famous for my email bullet lists, by the way — and doing what I can to move forward. Or even just stay where I am because the worst is to slide back. And today, for whatever reason, feels like a day where I slid back. At least in my head.

So, I dig in my heels, narrow my focus and just keep going. Keep pushing. Even if the push is imperceptible and the reward is negligible. Even if what I do now won’t show a result weeks, months, even years down the road, if at all, I just do what I can from where I am. Because that’s all I can do.

But you know what would help?

A sign.

A Yes. An “I hear you.” Or “you’re on my radar.” A “I like your work.” A nod — not even an answer, but a simple nod — that lets me know I’m on the right path. That I’m moving in the right direction. An acknowledgement that would help me find the spark to click Send on yet another email or to dial the phone for yet another unanswered call or make another bullet point list that might never be seen or discussed.

That, any of those really, would be the light shining far, far at the end of the tunnel telling me to keep walking.

See, this, right here, this is what the weight of the impossible does. It tests your faith. Dips you low so you can climb back out. Strengthens your resolve. Allows you to flirt with the possibility of failure knowing that your desire for a different result is stronger. That, even unheard or unseen or unacknowledged, you will fight on, keep pressing, keep asking, introducing, discussing. You’ll keep making those lists and getting the words on the page and brainstorming ways to carve out a space to help make the impossible possible.

But here’s something else I’ve learned: we’re not designed to carry the weight of the impossible by ourselves. This burden is designed to be shared.

And, now that I think about it, that’s what I’m feeling. The need to share what I’m creating with others. Build my dreams with people. I feel like it’s time to stop traveling this road by myself. To stop walking this alone.

Yeah, now that I think about it, that’s exactly what I need.

See? Clarity. I knew there was a reason to write this post. 🙂

 

where the big stories are

I recently ran across an interesting – albeit brief – read about the current state of Hollywood. In it, the writers says

Part of Hollywood’s current decay was unavoidable. As a monoculture splintered permanently into niche groups, the idea of a film everybody sees and everybody can’t stop talking about fades further into the cultural past. The rise of cable networks willing to spend serious money on shows like “Game of Thrones” further dents Hollywood’s ability to be the main supplier of big stories.

The article then goes on to discuss how the business model they’ve created has painted them in a corner where heartfelt sincerity is out, out, out and big, big, big profits are in, in, in. Where audiences have, when it comes to summer movie-watching fare, either this superhero movie (where things explode, buildings crumble and people are saved -or not) or that superhero movie (where things explode, buildings crumble and people are saved – or not).

And if the superhero movies are all basically interchangeable and easily forgotten, where’s the magic in going to the movies? Short answer: there is none. Which is why people are staying home and watching Stranger Things or Game of Thrones or whatever.

Now, I understand the financial logistics of this. I know foreign markets (China, Russia, Israel, Germany) drive profit. That Hollywood, being a global business – as in the whole world and not just America, a fact we somehow forget here in the States – isn’t necessarily making movies just for the domestic audience which, in truth, feed less and less into their bottom lines.

Really, though, Hollywood knows films that are heavy on action, explosions, dudes in capes and light on dialogue are easily translatable for Chinese, Russian, German audiences. And if your business is making money – and Hollywood’s is – a film that translates easily regardless of borders is, or could be, the way to go.

But they’re forgetting one important fact. They’re ignoring the one thing that makes it harder and harder to get those butts in the seats:

Where are the big stories?

Really. Where’s the frickin’ magic? Why go to the movies anymore? Where’s that one film that slyly incorporates those special effects audiences love while giving us characters audiences care about, feel for and never forget? Because that’s the film this industry needs. Desperately.

Being the relentless optimist I am, I strongly believe you can have action and magic in a film without relinquishing heart and soul.

If you revisit franchises like Harry Potter or even The Hunger Games, those movies ticked a lot of boxes. Centered around strong narratives – remember those? – they both successfully blended the fantastic with emotion. They married action with heart. And they gave audiences necessary, important battles without abandoning reason or hope. Cities didn’t need to crumble, the universe didn’t need to quake and thousands of cars didn’t have to get trampled underfoot for those films to make their point and make an impact on audiences.

You see? If you have a true big story – not just a loud story – you can go simple. If you’re supported by a strong narrative peopled with unique, relatable characters, you can be quiet. And if those people are imbued with hope, heartache, anger, fear, helplessness, frustration, loneliness, doubt, strength, the story they tell, even without the predictable Armageddon, will be unforgettable.

Why? Because no matter how different that person on the screen is from those in the audience, they’ll be speaking the same language. A language which doesn’t rely on translation or destruction or annihilation. A language that can be felt in a place deeper than words.

Emotion.

If you really want to find the big stories in today’s Hollywood, the stories audiences are truly craving – reminder: everyone’s staying home watching cable — that’s where you begin. With what people feel. And if you can bring to life a solid story with a character who is blessed – or cursed – with the impossible and yet is still driven by their hopes and dreams, fears and frustrations, disappointments and dread, a person driven by their emotions, that’s where audiences will go. In fact, that’s where audiences will go again and again and again.

I believe if you can reach into someone’s heart, speak to that part of them that wants to feel – it’s why we go to the movies, right? – and reawaken that innate hope we all have being part of something bigger while still entertaining, still dazzling, still scaring and surprising them, they’ll come. They’ll leave their homes, come to the theater, make a night of it and see that film. They will. We’ve seen it happen before. And, god willing, we’ll see it happen again.

But that journey has to begin with the heart.

Because that’s where the big stories are.

 

the power of Maybe

I’m not a fan of closed doors. Which is kind of odd coming from someone who’s as sincerely private and socially insular as I am. (Would rather cook something amazing and talk the night away than go out to a club or something, but that’s just me)

So let me restate that: I’m not a fan of doors being closed. Especially when they don’t need to be.

Which is where Maybe comes in.

Having neither the explicit promise of a Yes nor the full-stop end of story of a No, Maybe is the sweet spot where conversation is allowed to flow. Where things are still possible. Where minds are still somewhat open and curious. Where everyone is coming to the table with a desire to learn.

Maybe is still hopeful and excited and eager. But it might also be the turning of a corner. The first stage in the potential transition from Hope to Action. It’s a meeting of the minds to see if there’s work that can be done and if it can be done together.

More specifically, it’s that space where a writer has the rare opportunity to help someone see their characters and their stories as they see them. As they created them. It’s taking someone by the hand and, armed with that Maybe, letting them peek into the shadows to see the Why to the What you’ve written. To get a long look at how those people you created came to be. What’s driving them? What are their wounds and how are they struggling? And what makes them happy? What brings them joy? What are their hopes? Why do they do what they do?

It’s showing someone what can still be done and how amazing it can be if you can do it together.

You don’t learn any of this with No.

Maybe is questions asked and answers given. It’s discovery. Epiphany. It’s agreement and disagreement and compromise. It’s finding common ground and the realization that you are, despite the lingering threat of No, at least on the same page. More so than you first thought. Maybe is a continuing conversation where you learn about the story and you learn about each other.

At its core, Maybe is Information.

You see why it’s so powerful?

In some ways, at least at first, Maybe is preferable to Yes. Especially a Yes given quickly and without either thought or the support of shared understanding and common goals. Those are difficult. Because you got the Yes — YAY!!!! FINALLY!!!! — only to learn that where you see a unique, emotionally resonant story revolving around a fascinating immortal man, they see a 3-D roller-skating rock opera about juggling mimes working in a Milwaukie Hooters. And suddenly that initial ecstatic Oh Boy becomes the heartbreaking punch in the gut ohhhhhhh boy.

The back-and-forth of Maybe would have caught that potential pickle and, if compromise couldn’t be reached, it would have become a mutual No. And, let me tell you, that No is easy. Really easy. Because it rests on a foundation of shared conversation and clear information. That No is much, much better than an overeager — though well-intentioned — Yes.

Now, about that closed door. I said I’d circle back and I am.

Listen, No and I are best buds. Hell, we dang near grew up together. And, hand to god, I have nothing against No. Seriously. I know No like no one else. He is an annoyingly faithful and frustratingly constant companion. My disastrous wing man, if you will.

But I can accept No. And I have. Many times. Still do. If X and I aren’t seeing eye-to-eye or Y’s schedule is truly packed for the next five years or the story just isn’t resonating for A, yeah, I get that and I respect that. That No makes sense. It’s a No based on information and questions and answers and thought and discussion. And that’s cool. No harm, no foul, I sincerely wish you the best of luck and, really, let’s find something to do in the future because I still believe you are way too many kinds of awesome to count.

At the end of the day, some things aren’t meant to be.

But I always wonder, when my Hello was met with an abrupt No, what would have happened if they’d paused and listened? Just for a moment. And really listened, not sat there watching my lips move while wondering what to do for lunch (Chinese Chicken Salad? In’n’Out?…Pie?) all while planning on saying No at the end regardless.

What would have happened if they’d allowed themselves the freedom of Maybe? That free-for-all play space where people walk together without the specter of Yes or No hanging over them. Where it’s still Talk to Me. Tell Me Your Story. Where it’s help me see this the way you see this.

What would’ve happened if they’d asked questions? If they’d opened themselves enough to allow that unfamiliar light in? Let their imagination spark with unexpected possibility? Granted their creativity the permission to play What If?

Saying No as a first and only response precludes all of that. It halts conversation. Kills opportunity. It may even accidentally refuse you the thing you say you want and insist you need. No is coming to a dead stop on the on-ramp to the freeway that might — MIGHT — take you where you’ve been trying to go for a bazillion years.

Where Maybe is powerful, No can be downright deadly.

Point is never, ever underestimate Maybe. It’s not a Yes, but it doesn’t need to be. It’s an open door. An invitation to tell your story as you see it. To share the secrets behind what you do. Give them a glimpse of who you are and why what you do is so important to you.

So when someone says Ughhhhh, I just got a maybe and it suuuuux, I’m, like, Listen, accept that Maybe as the gift it is and take appropriate advantage. With gratitude and respect. They’re rare, those Maybes. Brief, brilliant moments of opportunity to shine and connect and share. Those Maybes have the potential to be amazing. They can change your life!

Don’t waste ’em.

 

First of Five

And so it begins.

In a rare confluence of events — think a massive meteor shower pummeling the earth while a rare comet circles the heavens around a total Solar Eclipse as we discover a Kardashian with actual talent — I’m going to have five book releases over the next three months.

I know, right?

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First up, Horror 201: The Silver Scream

The definitive guide to filmmaking and filmmakers by the best in the field.

Horror 201: The Silver Scream, the follow-up to the Bram Stoker Award nominated Horror 101: The Way Forward, delves into the minds of filmmakers to see what it takes to produce great horror films, from the writing and funding process, to directing, producing, and writing tie-ins.

It’s a tome of interviews and essays by some of our favorite artists.

That’s right, film legends and authors such as Wes Craven, George A. Romero, Ray Bradbury, Ed Naha, Patrick Lussier, Stephen Volk, Nancy Holder, Tom Holland, John Shirley, William Stout, and John Russo want to share their expertise with you through informative, practical, career-building advice.

These are the folks behind movies and novelizations such as A Nightmare on Elm Street, Scream, Dark Shadows, Sleepy Hollow, Supernatural, Buffy, Resident Evil, The Stand, Sleepwalkers, Masters of Horror, The Fly, Critters, Tales from the Crypt, Child’s Play, Fright Night, Thinner, The Langoliers, Ted Bundy, Re-animator Unbound, Halloween, Apollo 18, The Eye, Night of the Living Dead, The Crow, The Mist, Pan’s Labyrinth, and Raiders of the Lost Ark.

Horror 201 also entertains. You’ll see a side of your favorite authors, producers, and directors never seen before – combining fun and entertainment with informative career-building advice.

Horror 201 is aimed at arming generations of authors, screenwriters, producers, directors, and anyone else interested in the film industry, from big budget movies to the independent film circuit, as well as the stage.

The definitive guide to filmmaking and filmmakers by the best in the field.

Whether you’re an accomplished author or screenwriter, writing as a hobby, or have dreams of writing screenplays or making movies, Horror 201 will take you on a behind the scenes tour of the Horror movie industry from Hollywood to the UK and Australia.

Horror 201 covers:

  • Horror as culture
  • Scare tactics
  • The evolution of the horror film
  • Viewer desensitization
  • Watching your story come to life
  • Screenwriting advice
  • Dissecting screenplays
  • A production company case study
  • Tricks of the trade
  • Writing tips
  • Advice on Producing
  • Advice on Directing
  • Information about funding and distributing a film
  • Entertaining tidbits and anecdotes

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But wait, there’s more!!!!!!!

Horror 201: The Silver Scream is perfect for people who:

  • are looking to delve into screenplay writing
  • want to write their first screenplay
  • are fans of the horror movie industry
  • like to follow the careers of their favorite directors
  • are planning on infiltrating a different field in horror writing
  • are looking to pay more bills with their art
  • are trying to establish a name brand
  • are looking to get published
  • are looking for motivation and/or inspiration
  • are seeking contacts in the film industry

Amazing, right?

How about a cover?

Horror 201

Honestly, I love how the red of the car echoes the red in the title and the red in that other car. And the silver of the screen? With the woman screaming? To me, it’s ever so slightly reminiscent of —

shut-up-and-take-my-money

So, one release down, four to go. And what are those other four books?

An essay in the second volume of Horror 201: The Silver Scream; Forever Dark, an award-winning short story in Tales from the Lake, Vol. 2; an essay in Writers on Writing, Vol. 2; and Eidolon Avenue: The First Feast.

All between now and January.

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It just makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

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Okay, but, still, how cool is this!

Will update with links as the rest of these roll out.

 

Having the courage to miss

I have a lot of irons in the fire.

Finishing up what promises to be an amazing book for an incredible publisher (Eidolon Avenue for Crystal Lake Publishing in 2016). Digging into the script adaptation of Eidolon for a production company that’s shown interest in discussing the possibility of adapting it into a TV series. Still working to find a home for one screenplay (indie) while polishing a solid first draft of another script, this one the film adaptation of my first novel Martuk … the Holy (probably Studio).

Add to that the various TV specs I have floating around, the introductions I still reach out to make, and the relationships I’m happily building, and, yeah, there’s a lot going on.

And it’s terrifying. Sometimes. Because I aim high. I aim high and I miss. And then I restring the bow and aim high again. Maybe I’ll miss, but maybe not, you know? Either way, I’m still standing. But I always aim high because, hell, if you’re going to aim, it might as well be high, right?

But you have to have the courage to miss. Because aiming high leads to a mountain of No. An endless ocean of No. A flat-out, can’t get around it, frustrating road strewn with No, Nope, I don’t think so, and — the worst one — Silence. But is that enough of a reason to not try? Of course not. So I aim high, miss, aim again, make contact, get a No, restring the bow, and lather, rinse, repeat until I get that Yes. Or Maybe. Or, my favorite, Let’s Talk. Because if I do nothing then nothing happens.

Why am I talking about this? Because I’m following my gut and reaching out to someone, someone I greatly admire, for Martuk. Someone I think would

  • A) get the story and the complexities of the character
  • B) would recognize the opportunity inherent in being a huge part of a film franchise and, IMO, is perfectly suited to this project
  • C) has the courage to take this project on, wrestle it to the ground, and work with me to bring it to the screen in a way that accurately reflects, as much as possible, the book(s).

More importantly, I believe they would understand how much of a game-changer Martuk could be for their career.

Am I scared doing this? Yep. Will that stop me? Nope. Will I actually get a response or be lucky enough to have a conversation? Hell if I know. But I’m not going to let fear run me, I’m not going to let a potential No stop me, and I’m certainly not going to stop myself from even trying just because I’m afraid.

Because, at the end of the day, you gain nothing, absolutely nothing, by living afraid. So why do it?

Take aim, fire, and have the courage to miss.

Who knows? You just might land a bulls eye and get a Yes.

Hollywood hearts Writers … No! REALLY!

Hollywood. Films. Remakes, sequels, franchises. Adaptations of books. And where are the “new ideas” from Hollywood?

Let’s talk about this.

What most of you — and I’m talking mainly about those in the States — don’t realize is that Hollywood isn’t making films for you anymore. The domestic box office is one of the smaller pieces of the pie when it comes to profits. These days, their money is being made in China, Russian, India. That’s their audience. That’s who they’re focused on when they decide what to put into development or what script/property to invest in.

So, when looking at what films to make and, more importantly, what films they can market effectively to the biggest audience while still ticking all their demographic boxes, they tend to go either for iconic properties (Superman, Dracula, Batman, other superheroes) or earlier films they hold the rights to that they can successfully reboot, remake, rework with a young cast and hot director into something that can be discovered by a new audience.

Why? MONEY!

Let’s face it. We can talk about art and beauty and films being an amazing thing, but, at the end of the day, Hollywood needs to make money. And, as mentioned before, it’s not being made in the States. It’s all overseas.

Wondering where your serious dramas went? They don’t play well in those foreign markets so Studios are a lot less likely to jump onboard and make ’em (unless they’re historical Oscar bait, like Selma, or have Meryl Streep in them). Romantic comedies? Nope. Again, it’s a cultural difference. What Americans find funny or romantic will confuse the heck out of those foreign markets. So, they don’t make ’em. And when they do, it’s usually a box office bomb. And, remember, they’re in this to make money, something box office bombs don’t do.

Now, when it comes to new ideas — and, yes, they do have them! — and especially adaptations of books (which need not be bestsellers, surprisingly), Studios tend to hope for a few things. Or at least that’s what I’ve discovered as Martuk … the Holy and Martuk … the Holy: Proseuche laboriously trudge their way to the silver screen.

1) Is it a franchise? Making one movie, and just one movie, isn’t in the cards. For marketing purposes, tie-ins, building an audience, etc., they’re really hoping you have a story that spans three books and can be told in six films. Having a reliable story they can tell over a decade or so is ideal.

2) IS THERE A STORY?????? Oh, and believable characters who actually talk like real people. Believe it or not, and this is something I hear time and again from friends of mine who are producers, a lot of the books suggested to them from agents and publishers HAVE NO STORY!!!!

Listen, Hollywood isn’t a big reading town. They read scripts and they read coverage (crib notes version of a script or book). But for those who DO read, they get downright giddy when it’s well-written (most books these days, even so-called bestsellers, aren’t) and feel like they hit the frickin’ jackpot when it has an actual story. Beginning, middle, end. Three acts. Pace. Intelligence. Something a screenwriter can actually work into a script because, MY GOD, that NEVER happens!

So, yeah, having a story in your book rather than a random series of events that just kinda happen helps.

3) A sense of mythology. And this one, to me, feels huge. Every successful book-to-film (talking about the tent-pole productions that anchor a Studio for the summer and are usually franchises) has come to the table with a world wrapped in mythology. And I’m not necessarily talking about an established mythology, Greek, Roman, etc. It can be one the author has created. Other worlds, ancient worlds. Gods, goddesses. Superhuman strength. Immortals and monsters. That gives a Studio so, so much to play with because, absent a very American story centered around love and life and drama, there’s now a narrative — one probably based on action, magic, struggle, and strong visuals – foreign markets will readily understand and enjoy.

I think that knowing all this will help you understand why Hollywood decides the way it sometimes does — it’s not about you anymore, sorry — and how you, if you’re a writer hoping to shift your work into film, can maybe hopefully perhaps possibly write something they might be more willing to maybe hopefully perhaps possibly consider.

Seriously, though, it’s a crapshoot. Whenever writers ask me how they can get a “Hollywood Deal”, I always tell them “Don’t. Just write your damn book, and then another, and another, and another, and another. Be a writer. And if you can be a good writer, a really good writer, maybe Hollywood will find you.”

At the end of the day, it’s one of the few things we writers can totally control. What we write and how well we write it. If Hollywood likes it, great! If not, then our Readers will still love us.

P.S. There are always exceptions to the rule, so the above thoughts aren’t written in stone. They’re just thoughts.

P.S.S. The opening weekend success of 50 Shades of Grey is an outlier when it comes to books-to-film (Americans living in a world lacking mythology). The success of the book IS the mythology. That’s what drove the Studios to adapt it to film. The fact that it had done so well as a book is what’s notable about that book series. It’s what they were counting on to get butts in the seat and post some strong opening week numbers. ‘Cause it sure as hell isn’t the laughably bad writing and bizarre lack of a story! And a huge kudos to screenwriter Kelly Marcel for doing what she could with piss poor source material.