A WARNING: Dear Guest! Don't gnash your teeth everytime you meet a spelling or a syntax mistake! English is not my first language! So, please, be clement and keep in mind that, beyond the form, it's the content which truly matters!
You are intrigued by my personality? My sheer sagacity? My broad, shrewd, swift mind? The pertinence of my words? And you want to know more about me? I suggest you click on the three following links:
[Sheri - A Brief History]
[Sheri's Pictures]
[Sheri's Articles]
A framework for my next script
Ok. Things are getting clearer in my mind. I needed to think a little about the next course of action. I told you I was considering a comedy of manners. Several practical factors led me to it.
But... - for there is a "but" - ...I have to listen to my own nature. And my nature says: write about the past. Write about values which no longer have authority. Write about epochs when reinforced concrete, excessive consumerism and bad taste were not yet prevailing. When Nature wasn't odiously deflowered, blindly desecrated. Tell the people it's still possible to live otherwise, to opt for another system, to envisage another future. Cose I tell you, our future isn't very bright. And I'm not ready to accept it.
I might just be a drop in the ocean. My efforts might prove totally useless. Still, I try. And so doing, I live. I live.
Fact is, everyone has the means to fight the current wave. Just say no. No to silly, numbing tv shows which soften your powers of reasoning. No to useless, superfluous plastic goods made in China. No to excessive packaging. No to crappy music, allegedly rebellious, but very conformist in essence. Turn off your tv, dim your light and read. Read as much as you can. Eat real, simple food. Take time to cook. Enjoy simple pleasures such as gardening. Grow your own veggies (if possible). Go for a walk in the country.
Don't think I'm nostalgic. As I said in a previous entry, the past wasn't better. For many, many people, it was even worse. But our roots are in it. Today, people tend to forget it. They are "uprooted", déracinés in French. They're lost. Being so, they care about nothing. They cannot put things into perspective. And they say amen to a system which unscrupulously fashions their mind. A system which is not necessarily cynical but blind, unaware of itself, of the damages it causes.
My pen is my sword. Even if I'm not published, I will survive. Through my written work, my sons and grandsons will come to know me.
Case 1 - they will perhaps think I was tremendously naïve. They might even throw my manuscripts in the bin and say : "What a jerk he was"! Then, yes, I will truly cease to exist.
Case 2 - They will like my manuscripts. Reading my stuff would be a way to "download" a bit of my soul. And they will become stronger. More confident in a sense that they wouldn't be alone. Part of me would be with them, like the "force"...!
A year ago I bought a series of travel narratives gathered in a collection entitled Le Tour du Monde. 35 volumes printed, year by year, in the second half of the nineteenth century, offering a lively picture of the world as it was in those days.
One of those narratives, regarding the colonial city of Saigon in French Indochina, drew my attention. It is particularly well written and surprisingly nuancé for the period. The narrator was fairly impartial when he wrote it, uncommonly aware of his own prejudices.
I think it will provide me with a nice framework for my next script.
I think the story will take place in that city, in the late nineteenth or early twentieth century. The character I have in mind would be that of a French general (more likely a colonel) who, for some reason, resigned (or had to resign) his commission and came to settle there. He would lead a fairly secluded life with a faithful aide-de-camp till a teenage girl, aged 17, would start taking an interest in him. I'm also considering a third character, a young American (or British) journalist, who somehow mixes with them. Intense but decent feelings.
About the pics above: I've just bought this small medal on ebay (17 mm wide). On the obverse you have a portrait of Vivant Denon, an artist who took part in Napoleon's scientific expedition in Egypt. He drew many ancient monuments which came to illustrate the renowned Description de l'Egypte. I intend to mount it on a necklace for Christelle.
[5 comments]- What's the recipe?
- Though I believe I have the mighty soul of a poet (i.e. endowed with a sensitive nature, listening to what Nature has to say) I am nonetheless very cartesian.
What is the recipe for a good film script? I mean, for a first film script.
You need:
1. A good plot and a well-thought layout. Scenes which 'interlink' nicely.
2. A message to convey.
3. International characters for a wider diffusion/circulation.
4. A simple framework. Avoid decors or scenes which require time and money.
5. Talent as a script writer. A filmscript is not a novel. And that's the tricky bit! The writing of a script has its own rules. If you're a prodigy, you may perhaps choose to ignore them. If not, and this is my case, it's better to comply!
In other words you need a story taking place today, involving 'simple' characters you may identify with and who evolve in a common, ordinary environment.
A comédie de moeurs (comedy of manners) is ideal.
[2 comments] - No, you may not!
- 'lo everyone.
Can't say I had a beauty sleep last night. Got a sore throat and I kept waking up every twenty minutes or so. The ghosts of my past naturally came up haunting my thoughts, as they usually do a little before dawn. This time, however, I wasn't ready to accept it. I told them to ............ bugger off! And, surprisingly, they did!
Future's ahead, fellows, future's ahead!
[2 comments] - Inspiration, that's the key!
So yesterday morning I went jogging. I liked it cose the air was singularly crisp and pure. I could literally eat mouthfuls of it. Pleasure for the lungs, pleasure for the brain.
When writing, you need to get inspiration from people. It can be done either by a close observation of those people in their environment, or......... you read female magazines! I love female magazines! It's full of anecdotes on our habits, our vices, our sexuality. The perfect stuff for a perfect story! And so I bought the last issue of Jeune et Jolie, a French magazine for spotty teenage girls viewing themselves as (fully grown) women. I'm also stealing Christelle's mags on pregnancy (oh, btw, she's 6 months pregnant)! There too, there are many juicy stories deserving remembrance. From time to time I tear a page or two which I ceremoniously insert and preserve in a binder. My collection. My pride.
Having finished the rewrite of A French Summer (I will have to change that title), I will now resume the writing of A comedy of Manners which, as you know, involves the lot of you, guys...!
The pics above depict one of my latest aquisitions on ebay. A Roman fibula with a very nice patina. Had to fight for it.
[3 comments]- Your help
Ok, guys. A warning: I'll be talking about myself once again. So no need to read what follows if you feel you cannot stand it.
As I told you in my previous article, is it now my policy to devote my life to creative activities. I need to produce artworks not for the sake of it, but because it instills the feeling that I exist. Existence through the matter I fashion and which, hopefully, will remain after my flesh rots away. Don't mistake it for mere vanity. It is vanity, sure. It is also fear, fear of the void, fear of the unknown, fear to sink into oblivion (here again, vanity). I want to communicate my feelings to posterity. For we are made of flesh and feelings. I'm not a walking stomach. I'm not a consumption unit we'll erase from statistics once I die.
Let me give you an example: my father, now deceased. He was a civil engineer. My mother always kept saying that civil engineering was the crème de la crème. Yet, what did he achieve? What did he create? He would work from Mondays to Fridays. Come back late at night. On Saturdays he would clean his BMW and play golf on Sundays. From time to time he would go out or invite friends for dinner. That's about it ! Great life!
I don't want to fit such a mould. Let me prove you there are alternatives. Let me claim it through my work, written or artistic.
Talking about written works, I unearthed a manuscript which I wrote a year ago and never sent. I think, Nigel, that you might have read it already. It badly needed a rewrite and I'm pleased to inform you that it's done. Nigel, would it be possible for you to have another look at it? Bryan, I'd be delighted if you too could read it and let me know what you think of it.
John, Lox, MM, anyone else: would you be interested?
You see the dinky here above? I remember my father used to have plenty of them. Military cars, trucks, tanks,etc. The whole collection misteriously vanished when I was still a kid and I suspect my brother had sold the lot for cigarettes. I now endeavour to renew it.
[7 comments]- Towards a creative life
A black and white fresco I painted on the wall which overhangs our bed.
The pattern, very modern as it looks, is in fact 6,000 years old.
It is the reproduction of an ibex
depicted on a small terracota vessel excavated in Susa (Iran).
I came to an important decision. Two decisions, in fact.
Firstly, I have decided to put an end to my studies as a lanscape architect. I've been investing a lot of my time, too much really (I'm totally knackered), and though I was on the verge on reaching the last stage of my training with very good marks, I came to realise it did not respond to my expectations. It was far too theoretical, many courses being totally superfluous and others, which I considered most important, not sufficently developed. The French are far too rigid when it comes to teaching and there is no room for the individual touch. I know for a fact that the Anglo-saxons are much more pragmatic. They know how to get down to essentials. And they know it's important to encourage initiatives.
Secondly, I have decided to wipe out (almost) all my previous entries and start afresh. I've been talking too much about myself and I no longer want to bore you with my uninteresting grieves.
I'm resolved to look on the bright side from now on and I firmly intend to stop brooding over my past (or the people's present attitude). Sure, I don't have everything I want, but I've got nothing to complain about. I'm already a priviledged man by comparison.
Naturally I keep my present job (teaching 'corporate' English) and, if things were to turn sour with my employer (you never know), I still have the possibility to go freelance. I got to know the market fairly well and I know I could be competitive.
It is with some relief that I can now devote my free time to creative works such as the one you may see above, and the writing of film scripts. A new era begins for me, as I now realise it's never too late to change direction. I intend to exist through my art and be prolific.
[13 comments]