​Welcome back!
 
Trust you are all having a lovely Fall. To tell the truth, reliving the whole Wiley Bowman escapade on jplinde.com nearly took it all out of me. Luckily, a nice writing check came in and I feel a little bit better about this whole writing thing.
 
With that in mind, I think it’s high time we celebrate and clear our little blog pallet of Willy Bowman with one of my signature top five lists. What do you say? You up for it? Great. Then let’s get started.
 
Top Five Hair Products for Thinning and Receding Hair. And, here we go…
 
Eh, maybe I should pick something a little closer to our theme here at jplinde.com. Did you know that we had a theme? I am just not entirely sure of what it is but… Okay, here we go.

Top Five Hairstyles for the late Peter Lawford. 

Okay, it's not that great a list. Besides, I think there were only two hairstyles for the part time actor and crime scene spoiler (with or without cigarette).

Okay, here we go, I think I got it. TOP JAMES BOND MOVIE GUN BARRELS.
 
5. Believe it or not, the worst gun barrel sequences were by one of my favorite Bonds, Sean Connery. Connery took control of the sequence starting in “Thunderball” and finished up with “Diamonds are Forever.” It may even be the same sequence used for all three films. In my mind, the wobbly back leg spoils it.

​3. Roger Moore (suit only). I enjoy the early Roger Moore gun barrels before he decided to change into a dinner jacket. It is a shame that he never really fired the gun in either sequence as the actor had a habit of closing his eyes whenever he pulled the trigger.

​2. Daniel Craig. Always the bad ass. From “Casino Royale” to “Spectre,” Craig has delivered a consistent gun barrel that oozed both confidence and a familiarity with his weapon. The best of the lot is his first in the pre title sequence of Casino.
 

​Drumroll please. And the number one gun barrel sequence, from an Eon Production of a James Bond movie, goes to George Lazenby in “On Her Majesty’s Secret Service!  Mixing it up a bit by going down on one knee, this oft belittled Bond not only happens to appear in the best movie of the entire series but executes the signature sequence with both bravado and swagger, two trademarks of a perfect Bond.

​Okay, I think our collective pallets have been cleansed. We will be back in the coming weeks with some new news, interviews and maybe even a list or two. I am currently working on a beauty, Top 3 “Pitch Perfect” movies and why. Can’t wait.
 

​Did I mention that Wiley’s rewrite of “Baja Adventure” (previously known as “The Touristers,”) sucked balls? What was once a comedy about mismatched tourists on a RV excursion to Baja had now become a dark thriller about drug running. At least all the legal advice I was receiving was consistent. With Wiley Bowman at the helm, “Baja Adventure” would never get made. Just wait out your option and the property will once again revert back to you.

The concert promotor who had agreed to raise production funds proved to be quite the con herself. In doing a bit of research, I found that her company had a profile on a website known as “The Rip-Off Report.” Seems some investor had not been paid back and was suing in court. So much for the dream investor. Like rats deserting a sinking ship, the rest of the crew and cast departed, leaving Wiley alone with his project. Before he could quit, Wiley fired the director and announced that he would be helming the picture himself.

After the extremely painful wait of two additional years for the terms of the option to expire, I sent a registered letter to Wiley informing him that I was reclaiming ownership of my work and that was that. Seems easy enough, right? Not so fast, little buckaroos. Wiley was incensed and was not going down without a fight. Mr. Bowman immediately filed Writer’s Guild paperwork along with submitting a copyright application over the material. Luckily, I had a copyright predating his by over twenty years. Wiley’s legal argument was my copyright was for what I had written all those years ago. Again, I went to the the lawyers and again they answered, he will never get any movie, let alone mine, made. Bullshit! I was not having it. This was my material and I would protect it with my dying breath.

​Here are some little-known facts to consider before I continue. Did you know that a copyright is just a piece of paper and if someone does infringe on your work, it can still be challenged? As I was told, you’d probably win but how much is it going to cost you? Something else to consider, the office of copyrights can only do so much. It did not help Wiley’s case when he refused to answer the copyright’s questions regarding his claim to own previously copyrighted material. Still when it was announced on GoFundMe that Wiley was seeking funds for “Baja Adventure” the emptiness in the pit of my stomach returned. Was this ever going to end? I began to doubt it. To my relief, not one person donated a dime to Wiley’s directorial debut.
 

Hollywood memory is relatively short. Years have passed since the saga of Wiley Bowman concluded. The industry stink that was once so associated with the project has finally faded. I have made a film and rewritten others. I continue to get work in the film industry and have learned to never sign anything without first consulting a lawyer. And still the question remains, if my version of “The Touristers” ever gets made, will Wiley magically reappear and demand payment? Looking on the bright side, the whole shit show made me a smarter.
 
“On March 12th, trial was held in Department 98, Superior Court of the State of California, in and for the County of Los Angeles. In a moment the results of that trial.”
 
Just wishful thinking on my part. But I would’ve loved to post a picture of Wiley Bowman along with the above “Dragnet” narration. 
 
Before we say goodbye, I think it is only fitting that I feature a direct quote from Wiley Bowman’s LinkedIn profile: 
 
“Available for your casting needs, for small or big budget films, short film, music video and more. You can count on us to read the screenplay and make a breakdown that fits. Then we will per screen actors and actress for the lead and supporting roles and we have the right connection to proved extra for your project as well.”
 
I think the above speaks for itself. At any rate, I am glad he still keeps a toe in the business. Oh, by the way, besides being a movie producer and director, Wiley is also a photographer. 
​
A comedian, a fashion photographer and sells real estate. 
 
Looking forward to seeing you all next week. 

​Seems like it was only yesterday when I announced that I’d be taking a break for a couple of weeks. Well, I’m back. Had a wonderful time collaborating with Top Knot Films. It was a lot of work and I can’t wait to tell you all about it.

 
A lot has happened over the last two weeks and I wanted to make sure I sent out a special THANK YOU to all of the brave men and women of CAL FIRE, working tirelessly in both South CA and here to keep property and people safe. We came extremely close to losing the Linde Hacienda and we are very grateful for those who risked their lives to save our little neighborhood

​In the meantime, sit back and relax and I will regale you with another installment from the fucked-up saga of Wiley Bowman.
 
Although we never signed a formal contract, Wiley and I had our signatures firmly affixed to a deal memo that promised me the world if “The Touristers” ever got off the ground. A meeting in Beverly Hills Talent Agency was on the books and I immediately loaded up the car for the thousand-mile drive to Los Angeles. I arrived the very next day at the prestigious Beverly Hills Agency 13th floor lobby. Waiting in the lobby was everyone ever associated with Wiley and the project. Not only were the director and the cinematographer present, but the ENTIRE crew was waiting in the small reception area. What the fuck is going on, I asked myself as we were led into the conference room. Wiley was late and, for the first time, I suspected that I was not the only one in the room being conned. When Wiley did show up, he was met by the agent and the rest of us with cold, icy stares. The director and I quietly excused ourselves and we left, leaving Wiley alone to explain himself.

(The Touristers Budget)

​​It’s a remarkable feeling being conned. You want so much to believe that you managed to a script in development that you repeatedly ignore the warning signs. Well, this warning sign was just too big to ignore. I confronted Wiley and he was surprisingly apologetic. “I’m just so proud of the work of all of you,” he attempted to explain contritely. But I was not having it and was now officially biding my time until the option would be over.
 
Sensing I was about to move on, Wiley was very insistent on getting my signature on a more formal agreement. I was reticent, having just undergone the ordeal of the Beverly Hills Agency. We were at loggerheads. Enter a concert producer from Texas and the promise of funding. She looked like she knew what she was doing, had some experience in promotion and motion pictures and was currently promoting concerts in large to midsize venues in Texas. She was smart, intuitive and very anxious. Wiley insisted that we would have the money within the next few weeks, but I had to have my signature on a more formal option agreement. At one point, he even said, I can’t pay you until you sign. What can I say, friends, I signed. 

(A cast member's deal memo)

​As an extra added bonus, along with my signed copy of the contract, I received Wiley’s complete rewrite of the entire script. The title of the project had transformed seemingly overnight to “Baja Adventure,” and Wiley had given himself full writing credit. The script had been turned from a 100-page comedy to a drug-running thriller. I had been had and was now trapped in a 2-year option agreement with a man I could no longer trust.
 
The final installment next week.

In the meantime, watch one of the greatest documentaries of this year, “Abducted in Plain Sight.” ​

Now, back to your regularly scheduled blog post. 
 
A Hooker’s Praise: The Ballad of Wiley Bowman Pt 2
 
Decades ago, I was at a strip club. As our party filed in, my bachelor party compatriots were immediately greeted with seductive compliments in hopes of being lured off into the back room for expensive table dances. The practical stripper who approached me, looked me over thoroughly and, after careful contemplation, could only manage to come up with, “Nice glasses.” 
What can I say? I’m a sucker for complements, whenever I am lucky enough to stumble upon one.
 
The call came after work. I was in downtown Portland coffee shop and the voice on the other end of the line was laid back, confident, smooth as a perfectly aged scotch and extremely complimentary. His name was Wiley Bowman Jr and he promptly reported that during his reading of my script, he laughed so hard that he had to immediately talk to the writer. Needless to say, it had been an extremely long time since I had received a literary compliment and, like the nice glasses line (which happened to work by the way), I had been smitten with the promise of a revived career. We chatted for a several minutes, Wiley reporting that he was casting another project but would get back to me soon. 
 
Things happened rather quickly from here. A deal memo was signed, and Wiley started assembling his crew. Keep in mind, all signed had at least one foot into the business we call show and knew a thing or two about getting movies made. There was a Producer, a Director of Photography and a Stunt Coordinator. While not heavyweights in the industry, these were individuals with produced work and solid resumes. 
 
WARNING #1 No money had exchanged hands, and all of the major players in this story were waiting until funding had been secured. 
 
In a matter of couple months, several other people signed on and a series of auditions were announced. These auditions took place in LA and were videotaped for prosperity. I still have a copy. Some of the faces of the hopefuls are even recognizable from film and television (twenty years ago). But why the hell shouldn’t they be? We were a speeding train, on the fast-track of successful independent filmmaking. How could we not succeed?
 
Keep in mind, all this happened without a single penny. Wiley believed he could round up his crew, his supporting cast and lure some upper grade talent from the major agencies and then proceed and get all the funding he needed. From where? Only he seemed to know. But he was confident as hell about it. So, there’s that.  
 
In going over the research material for this blog, I am struck by how far Wiley got with his plan. Not only did he have a crew and some of the cast, he also had a budget worked out. 
 
If it sounds too good to be true, it usually is. But I wanted this so bad, I refused to look at the whole situation realistically. Independent filmmaking is guerilla anyway. How was anyone to know what the rules really were. Wasn’t that the point? You make them up as you go along. Do anything just to get the project off the ground?
 
When it came down to casting leads, Wiley wooed one of the top agencies in LA and managed to sign some significant names to deal memos. 
 
Not only had he gotten through the door, he had been invited to the top floor for a meeting. Wiley told everyone involved that he was close to finalizing this whole deal. All he needed was to sign the leads and the financial backers would be lined up outside his door. The meeting was scheduled at the Beverly Hills Agency and Wiley requested that a few of the key players be there. I remember asking him, “we’re close, aren’t we?” He assured me we were very near the finish line. I, ever the optimist, announced in FB that I was going to be famous. The next day, I jumped in my car and drove the 1,100 miles to Beverly Hills.
 

The view from Beverly Hills

To be continued (in a few weeks)

Art by Tadd Galusha

​We had finally turned the corner on the millennium, I was back in Portland and had not heard so much as a peep from anyone in the film industry. I had exhausted most of my contacts, managing to piss off the few good leads left in the entire City of Angels. The year was 2003 and I felt my only course of career action was to start from scratch, this time revisiting some of the older material in my portfolio in hopes of reworking into a commercially viable candidate. The screenplay I chose, “The Touristers.” 
 
A bit of historical perspective is in order. “The Touristers” was the second of my stories to generate a small bit of, eh, Hollywood heat. The logline for this masterpiece is as follows:
 
Leading a caravan of RVs, filled with a riotous assortment of tourists, through Baja is not the relaxing vacation, middle-aged gym teacher Marion C. Carlson hankers for.  His rebellious, high-spirited teen daughter, Carolyn, and his mutinous "Touristers" are the least of his worries.  South of the border, Carlson incurs the wrath of a bloodthirsty tribe of outlaw bikers and circling the wagons may be a classic western case of too little, too late.
 
Back in the day,“The Touristers” was represented by an East Coast agency, Manhattan Artists, and optioned for $1000.00 by none other than John Ratzenberger (Cliff, the mailman on the hit NBC show “Cheers”). I know, right? It was the early eighties and I was naive enough to think my stellar career as a Hollywood screenwriter was only just beginning. Reality hit when I drove the 1000 miles to LA to meet my television star benefactor, only to be literally turned away at the door. Anxious calls to my agent in New York were not returned, and it seemed that a life-long dream had stalled before it had even started.
 
Flash forward, twenty-some years later and I had reworked the script and spruced it up for a promising new decade. I thought the rewrite went well, taking the needed time necessary to flesh out some of the father/daughter relationship, tighten up some of the gags and come up with a “Magnificent 7” style opening to the story. Finally, after weeks of work, I was ready. But who would I send it to? There were only a couple of names remaining on my contact list and I was pretty sure that they had either forgotten who I was or wanted nothing to do with me. I was desperate, with only place to turn.
 
Still in its adolescence , the World Wide Web had once been a Gold Rush for screenwriters, featuring hundreds of sites where you could publish your logline, pray that it wasn’t stolen and unrealistically expect email offers and options from creatively starved and morally bankrupt producers to come pouring in. Much like the Yukon over a century ago, it did not take long for this so-called rush to exhaust itself and, over the years, most of sites dried up. I know as I spent hours desperately searching the survivors out in the Ethernet. I was about to give up entirely when I finally came upon it. One site had survived like an angry weed or persevering cockroach. The site was administered by a man named Wiley Bowman and it was called, “All Things Entertainment.”
 
A quick note about the “All Things Entertainment” website. There were plenty of simple, easy to use customizable website templates available for any wannabe webmaster. Apparently these were ignored as this website had the virtual look of Spawn Ranch shortly before Charlie Manson moved in. Never-the-less, despite the warning of inferior web design, I submitted my logline. Why not? It wasn’t like anyone else was asking for my material. I knew it for what it was, a Hail Mary. I also felt that I had all my protective and legal bases covered. The material was copyrighted and registered with the Writers Guild of America West (Several times in fact). It wasn’t like someone on the internet would ever think of ripping me off. Right?   
 
(To be Continued)

Not that I have your attention, we can get to this week's blog. 

​Fall is here and before we all leap in a decaying pile of dead vegetable matter, let’s catch up on a promise I made to all of you several months ago. In case you don’t remember, let me refresh your memory. I committed to you, my loyal readers, that I would get to the bottom of the age-old question that has been troubling mankind for over half a decade. And that question is, what the hell happened with Disney’s “John Carter?” I mean, it had an established director and had enough money thrown at it to fund a small country. It’s relatively true to the source material, Edgar Rice Burroughs “Princess of Mars,” and possesses production values that dazzled the eye. Everyone obviously wanted to create something great and instead, produced a deafening thud that rivaled some of the biggest box office disasters of modern cinema. Does it deserve all of the bad press it eventually got, probably not. But I think it’s worth at least a moment of investigation as to the all-important why.

I re-read the source material and was immediately swept away to Barsoom, Mars to the uninitiated, in a very lively story that I feel, is as well-written as any pulp/fantasy novel written. The prose of tight, energetic and Carter’s narration never gets old as he relates to his adventurous new life on the angry and mysterious red planet. Now that I have your attention, we can get to this week's real discussion.
​

​I watched the movie, for the first time, only months ago and attempt to watch it once more before committing my keyboard to an empty screen of Microsoft 365. I am sorry to report, a complete second viewing of the movie never happened. Try as I might, I just couldn’t get through it. First of all, there was entirely too much time spent in the Arizona first act. All of that could have been covered in 5 minutes.  Keep in mind, I am not talking of the prologue or epilogue but only Arizona sequence. If that didn’t put the final stake into the beating heart of a great story, several other things certainly contributed. Save for all the Tharks, the cast never lived up to the characters as written by Burroughs. The story lacked pacing, and the shooting script was overlong. And, here it comes, the main reason this adaptation does not work; it’s not any fun. 
 
Burroughs’ work is a hell of a ride. He keeps the story moving, introduces situations that are so unique and imaginative that they boggle the reader’s mind. If you keep track, it’s literally one adventure spilling into the next. The author creates a world that captures the imagination and begs for a return back for other stories. Sadly, the movie lacks any of this. It is ponderous, and, as much as I hate to say it, relies too much on the source material with absolutely no life of its own.
 
Keep in mind, I wanted to like this. I wanted desperately to revisit stories I had read as a young teen. About twenty minutes in, I realized not only was I not going to get back, but I might get stuck once in for all in Arizona and never get to the adopted home of John Carter and the wily cunning of the beautiful Princess Dejah Thoris.  
 
On a positive note, if you have not done so, treat yourself to some of the animator Bob Clampett’s test footage of “John Carter” that was done in the 30s. It certainly looks like the creator of television’s “Beanie and Cecil” could have brought a much-needed sense of fun and wonder to a great work of fiction.

Several weeks of unreturned phone calls and unopened emails later, the project was officially dead. Suzanne was apparently some real-life version of Brigadoon, only showing herself every 100 years to lost writers meandering about the Scottish Highlands of creativity. I didn’t need a coroner’s report to notify me of the script’s demise.  I learned later that Suzanne keeps a literal harem of pitches at her disposal and “The Lighthouse Keeper” was merely one of them. It has been several years, and like some jilted lover of yesteryear. I have not even received one word from the producer with the artificial top and the flaming red hair. But there is something.  I’ve was paid and I have a “blurry as fuck” photo to prove I was there.
 
We will be back next week with the usual hijinks. Coming very soon, yet another very special guest from the entertainment industry. See you then!
 The voice of the original writer echoed in my head ad nauseum. “It’s my story. You should of left well enough alone. You should have listened to me?” Where did I go wrong?  After all, I was the self-coronated master of Nazi horror lighthouse keeper stories. I drove back to my friend’s place in Santa Monica and waited fitfully for the director to find out what the hell was going on. Several days later, on my drive back to Northern CA, I heard back: “Massive improvement,” the diplomatic director informed me. “Suzanne just wants a few teeny-weeny tweaks to get us there.”
 
Save for the “teeny-weeny,” I had heard this all before. A few small changes could translate into several months of work. Suck it up, I told myself. Just wait for the notes. Much to my relief, it really did turn out to be just a few tweaks to act one and a bigger punch for the finale. No problem. I went immediately to work, tightening the introductions of the teens and adding the promise of more terror to come after the closing credits. I then sent the final version to all concerned parties.
 
Another table read was scheduled two weeks later and, this time, the director was invited. I wouldn’t be able to make it, so I was forced to rely on the eyes and ears of the director. There were no photos to document the event, but Suzanne stayed through the entire reading and reported we, at last, were ready. Ready for what? Preproduction? Financing? I wasn’t sure, but it must be a good thing, right? 
 
I already had dreams of pre, production and post dancing in my head. Not to mention all those award dinners. Perhaps I was on my way to a panel in San Diego to talk about Nazi lighthouse keepers at Comic Con. This was my ticket out. Just wait world, show business was just about to meet the most talented middle-aged writer working a little business I call show. I was going to break through whatever they call the equivalent of the glass ceiling for senior citizens, a cover story in AARP magazine and have my 2ndproduced film under my belt.  Look out, world. Here I come.
​
And here is the fundamental lesson to this three-part series of blogs so I hope you are paying attention. It doesn’t matter what happens now. Why? You, my friend, have already been paid. You have received all monies owed and now the entire matter is officially out of your hands. Before investing too much into the whole affair, move onto the next project.

(A college production of "Brigadoon.")

Several weeks of unreturned phone calls and unopened emails later, the project was officially dead. Suzanne was apparently some real-life version of Brigadoon, only showing herself every 100 years to lost writers meandering about the Scottish Highlands of creativity. I didn’t need a coroner’s report to notify me of the script’s demise.  I learned later that Suzanne keeps a literal harem of pitches at her disposal and “The Lighthouse Keeper” was merely one of them. It has been several years, and like some jilted lover of yesteryear. I have not even received one word from the producer with the artificial top and the flaming red hair. But there is something.  I’ve was paid and I have a “blurry as fuck” photo to prove I was there.

​21 days later, the script was completed. Now, all that was needed was to talk to the creator of the story and get his okay. Sounds easy enough, right?  But remember, there was just the slightest of hitches. I had not spoken to him since I got the job. I had instructed the director to keep him busy while I sorted through his story. Before I did call, I decided to get my ducks in a row. Copies of the screenplay went to the Director and Producer. If they had comments, it would be better to start here. After all, one was making it and the other, most importantly, was putting up the money. Initial comments from Matt (director) were good. Suzanne, guardedly optimistic, would hold off judgment until the table read.
 
The call was scheduled for a Saturday afternoon. The author was on the east coast. I decided the best course of action was to remain overly enthusiastic. Whenever the author would bring up a particular note, I would let forth with another gush of just how lucky I was to be chosen to work on such a terrific story in such a terrific business. When pressed harder, I gently reminded him that the reading was in a week. Let’s just see what happens there. He reluctantly agreed, but not before insisting his original rock song play over the opening or closing credits. Wait? What? An original song. If I had seen something like that, I am quite sure I would’ve cut that. Maybe I should consider putting that back in.

​ 
Paramount Studios on a Saturday afternoon is a ghost town. Not much happening. To be truthful, I am not sure why. I have been several times in the eighties and nineties, and it was always busy. At least, this weekend the outdoor tank was up. How many naval battles had been fought in this historic swimming pool on steroids? I stopped off quickly at the studio Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf and got caffeinated, just before it was time to meet Suzanne De Laurentiis in the flesh. 
 
Suzanne, oh Suzanne, 3rdcousin to Dino, is a firecracker with flaming red hair and artificial upper half. We adjourned to her office and she immediately went into a pitch for her new creative obsession, “The Suzanne Show.” She pitched it as Oprah for menopausal women. “You get a hot flash.” You get a hot flash.”  “Everybody gets a hot flash.” Oh, yes, and don’t forget the cooking segments.  Anyways, I was polite, listened and agreed to think about it. I mean what was I going to say?

​The Lucille Ball Theatre is an intimate little screening room that had been converted into a conference room. Inside, a group of young, fresh-faced actors, laptops open, prepared for the reading. From their puzzled expression, I guessed they were seeing the script for the first time. I introduced myself and adjourned to the back to set up my complicated recording device. In actuality, my recording device was an iPhone 4. But, hey, still plenty complicated. Suzanne swept in with her entourage of one and introduced all and the reading started promptly at 2pm.
 
Despite the puzzled faces on the actors, the reading was well. According to the actors later, the raised eyebrows were attributed to the changes in the material. Sometime, early in the second act, Suzanne abruptly left, leaving her entourage in charge. We finished the reading, posed for a couple of pictures. Whoever entourage was, he too had trouble with the complicated iPhone 4. The pictures are, how do you put this politely, blurry as fuck. Feedback was great, the actors laughing and celebrating the improvements over the last reading. Suzanne must not have shared in that enthusiasm. Like Elvis, De Laurentiis had left the building.
 
Saying goodbyes to the cast, I called the director in the parking lot. “It could not have gone better,” I explained. 
“What do you mean?”
“The producer left before it was over.”

"Blurry as fuck."  (The exciting conclusion of "The Lighthouse Keeper" next week.

THE LIGHTHOUSE KEEPER
 
“World War II is over… but someone hasn't surrendered!”
 
The press small release, dated 05/13/13, was as follows:
 
“Los Angeles based producer Suzanne DeLaurentiis will collaborate with Andre Sadowski on their upcoming film The Lighthouse Keeper. The film is scheduled to go into pre-production this summer.”
 
“The Lighthouse Keeper is a horror film set off the coast of New England during WWII. An elite German SS soldier is sent to America and uses a lighthouse as his base of operations. His ardent nationalism blinds him to the fall of the Third Reich and he continues a murderous campaign for years, overtaking the area surrounding the lighthouse. A group of college students are brought to his shores and become the next target in the Keeper's twisted mission. They must try to end his reign of terror before his quest for final victory claims more lives.”
​

The original script, a horror thriller by Andre Sadowski, was in need a rewrite. It had just undergone the first table-read and Suzanne DeLaurentiis ( 2nd cousin to the immortal Dino), having been informed of my one week turn-around on “Axe to Grind,” hired me to apply first aid – stat! Most importantly, I was to be paid in cash. Half now, and half upon delivery. I would be a literary Sam Spade. All that was missing was the $50.00 a day in expenses. The clock was ticking. I was given one month before the 2ndtable read at Paramount Studios.
 
I dug in immediately, reading and re-reading to determine the strength of the outline. I decided to strip the script of all dialogue to determine the story’s overall structure. There were weaknesses in all three acts, I carefully added scenes/beats to flesh out the story in order for it to make sense. Keep in mind, making sense in a horror film is all relative. The story merely needs to be believable in a a Jason Voorhees, Friday the 13thpart 3-D, kind of way. Once that was feat accomplished, I went to work rewriting the script.
 
So, I am about ten days in, working fast and attempting to make it to deadline when I hear from the director. Apparently, the original writer was under the impression that this was going to be a collaborative rewrite; the two of us holding hands in the spirit of true brotherhood. Whoops. To make matters worse, the original writer wanted to see what I had done so far. Keep in mind, this is something that I NEVER, EVER do. The best plan of action is always to charge ahead. I instructed the director to keep the writer busy until I finished. Keep the vision in my head clear, I reasoned. Keep the eye on the prize. 
 
Now, just a friendly reminder. This is not Pulitzer Prize winning material here. This is horror. Teens disembark from a pleasure cruise at an island lighthouse and die, one by one, at the hands of a murderous Nazi. I know the rules. All of the rules. Including the rule that the first victims need to be the couple just about to make sweet, sweet love in some deserted or remote corner of the island.
 
Three weeks later a rough draft was completed, and a copy went to the entire production team. There were some minor notes and a phone call was booked between the original writer, the director and me. The call was to be in on a Saturday and it would be the first time that I would exchange words with the man who created the Nazi Lighthouse keeper. How would he react? Would he be angry over the lack of collaboration? Would he track me down and dispose of me like one of his victims in his story?

To be continued...

Or as I like to call it, JERRY LEWIS DAY!

Odds and ends to end the summer!

​How about a big round of virtual applause for last week’s guest, Dwayne Epstein. Such a great interview. We had so many guests on the site last week that our web counter actually broke.  LOL. Thanks, Dwayne. Seriously, I wish him continued success with his great biography, “Lee Marvin: Point Blank.” If you have not purchased this yet, what are you waiting for! Please check it out. You will not be disappointed.  
 
As we move into Fall, we will be having more great guests so, stay tuned.
 
A big shout-out to Jessica for her “Son of Ravage” short and sweet review: “Holy cats! If you like a lot of action and some fun characters, this is an enjoyable read. Looking forward to the next adventures.” Yes, we are still keeping track of reviews, so please keep those cards and letters coming.
 
Have you been checking out ALL the comments on jplinde.com? There’s a reader who reported that he worked as a gofer on the Matt Helm series. He made some rather startling claims. I asked if he wouldn’t mind taking the time to answer a few questions but have not heard back. I have to admit, I am curious. Perhaps it is just another of our many Russian bots that come to visit. Haven’t had one in quite a while, but welcome back comrade. I doubt you can throw an election with Dino gossip, but give it your best shot.

Recently finished “The Overstory” by Richard Powers. This is a Pulitzer Prize winning work of fiction and definitely worth your time. If you are at all interested in our dying planet, I would check this novel out. To save a tree (the real heroes of this book), you might want to purchase it on Kindle or ebook. Next up for the Linde Family Book Club, “There There” by Tommy Orange. I will keep you posted.
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Jerry Seinfeld’s meltdown on this season’s “Comedian in Cars Getting Coffee” is particularly worth catching. The tirade takes place on episode featuring comedian/actress writer Bridget Everett. It’s fascinating to witness the usually calm, collected and Zen-like performer lose his shit at the mention of another comic’s name. After a bit of research, I discovered the comedian that causes the shit to hit the fan happens to be Bobcat Goldthwait. I am interested to see how this one plays out. There are a few mentions of this on the web if you are so inclined. I just found the episode memorable for all the reasons stated above.

​Currently, the missus and I are plowing through the entire Veronica Mars playlist and are midway through the 2ndseason. For all of those not familiar with the teen detective, it’s a series that was created by author/writer/producer Rob Thomas and Executive Produced by Hollywood legend Joel Silver. This is not your typical Nancy Drew type detective story. It creatively mixes angst, humor and surprising darkness into a teen noir that is a far cry from the regular episodic fare.
 
Well, I think I blabbered on enough. Have a great week.