The Widower Diary

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , on November 7, 2009 by antonahill

AAAAA! I can’t fucking deal with this shit! So back in June or whatever, I sent The Investment and The Widower off to the Writer’s Network Competition. This was dead center in the middle of my must-send-TW-eveywhere-’cause-surely-they’ll-love-it phase. This was before I’d gotten any substantial notes on it. This was when I was DELUSIONAL, right? Since then, I’ve of course gotten notes back, among which there’s been some pretty nasty, vitriolic, TW-hate, right? I’d completely resolved to the idea that now is not the time to work on the story considering my dangerous proximity to it, right?

Right.

So, in entering the Fade In Awards this time around with Beyond the Precipice, it crossed my mind that I hadn’t heard my status on Writer’s Network. I’d not memorized the notification dates or anything… so it wasn’t too surprising, just that I’d had this notion that it was coming soon.

And come it did. I just a couple of minutes ago got notification that I made the quarter-finals. Awesome, right? The whole “you’re only 1 of 547 out of over 1,400″ is still pretty cool, right?

Right.

So I read through the thing for reasons that I can’t explain except it’s kinda fun to read through the thing. I notice they say something like “submission” not “submissions”. See, the way they work is you can send in 2 scripts or 1 novel or 2 teleplays or some shit like that. But it’s definitely 2 screenplays. Every time I’ve entered, I’ve placed with 1 and not the other. Also, every time I’ve placed, I’ve been shocked as to what DID place.

This time was no different.

Despite the fact that The Investment made it into the top 25 out of over 4,400 in Scriptapalooza and the fact that TW hasn’t placed in ANYTHING so far, guess which 1 placed?

That’s right.

You know what? I don’t fucking get it. 1st I think TW is my greatest work ever. Then, I calm down and realize that that probably isn’t entirely true. Then, I not only get confirmation that that probably isn’t true, but that it’s probably closer to the worst thing I’ve written in years. Then, I get about accepting that that’s okay. Every script needs to be rewritten and this 1’s no exception. I’m cool with that. It’s all cool. I even send Jeanne a message saying “Let’s not go out with TW. Still gotta work on it.”

Then THIS shit happens!

It’s all bullshit.

The Widower Diary

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , on October 30, 2009 by antonahill

I got the following from readers at Shriekfest. I can’t know who they are so, at present, can’t follow up. I just told Denise, the director, that I haven’t been disembowled like this since AFI. Let the gutting begin!

“The Story is below average in my opinion. I’d give it a 4 out of 10. It’s too long too, it really needs to be tightened up. I didn’t really enjoy it either…it felt long. Some typos as well.”

“This script hits the same notes over and over in my opinion. There’s a useful piece of advice when it comes to screenwriting/filmmaking, and that is every scene should provide new information. This script spends pages and pages and scene after scene saying the same thing over and over. I feel like we spend way too long just watching our main character train for his revenge. Scene after scene of this does not advance the story. There’s no investigation, there’s no work, there’s no mystery, there’s no tracking down of the cult. When he does begin the search, it happens almost effortlessly.”

“Decent idea, it’s just not executed properly. You need more sluglines and there are all kinds of typos/mistakes. It sometimes drags…very slow…tighten this story up.”

“Just my opinion, but I felt this script was slightly sexist in its depiction of women. It felt maybe a bit self-indulgent with the way women have sex with the main character.”

“Lots of mistakes. Page one opens without a slugline at all. Lots of slugline problems in general. Reads as amateur. Inadequate descriptions. Uses a lot of flashbacks with no indication. Seems to lack a clear timeline.”

“Flashbacks are bad ideas in general and this script has a lot of them. The story is not clear, it’s too much revenge…it just felt like it went on and on. The premise is cool though. I just wanted more. Characters need more developing, conflict needs work, exposition needs work.”

“Didn’t feel very well-thought out in my opinion. For example, Alina (after jumping right in the sack with our main guy) then finds his gun and confronts him about who he is. Later, Alina is suddenly revealed as a government spy looking out for him and more or less should have known exactly who he was. So it makes that confrontation scene suddenly meaningless and without motivation that makes real sense. Some of the dialogue does not work at all. Mostly, the main description I feel could be given about most aspects of this script is “amateur.”"

“Not bad, but not good either. There is a kernal of a story here though…with some work, it could be cool. Really work out everything again…start over if you have to. Too many mistakes to be sending this script out. Very frustrating to read a script with that many mistakes. Characters….don’t really care about them either…they need reworking as well.”

As you can see, some things are pretty valid. The issue of tightening things up, the question of how well thought-out the story is. I have no fucking idea what people are whining about with the slug lines (some call them scene headings: INT. APARTMENT – DAY). I have mixed feelings on the “sexist” comment. But man, oh man, I REALLY didn’t do my job! And I think at some point, my description for TW was “a good work”? Ha! Oops! Well, the awesome thing about every screenplay is they can be rewritten. Now, I don’t know if I’ll be able to work out every problem in 1, 2, or even 3 drafts, but the point is that it’s possible. Not even THAT hard. As I’ve already reported, I’m not gonna do it soon. I’m still too close to it and so won’t be able to do the material justice. But when I get around to it, damn.

Amateur? That smarts!

My appetite

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , on October 30, 2009 by antonahill

is now back to pre- and immediately post-mortem levels. I’m not sure at all why this is going on, but since Monday, I’ve found not much food appealing, have barely felt hungry, and, when I have eaten, I’ve felt nauseous afterwards. My mood hasn’t been completely in-line with this, but it also hasn’t been great. I’ve noticed that anxiety has been up, and, as anyone has seen with my previous post on dreams, that’s not been much fun either.

Is it that it’s now been over a full year since Rachel’s death? I dunno. I just hope it doesn’t last because not being able to eat fucking blows dead Indians.

Dreams

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , on October 28, 2009 by antonahill

have been up and down lately. Some have been Rachel’s alive and waiting. Some have been I’m back in high school/college with just 1 last class to take/I haven’t been to a single 1 of some class and the final’s today. Always with a tinge of anxiety. Or something more.

I just saw an episode of Heroes. The small issue of someone being served for a lawsuit came up. A little close to home. I find myself wondering, should I fight for what’s right? Sometimes it seems best to just let some things go. But then I yelled at Succinctrix the other night specifically because she’s been so easy to let things go. To not fight for what’s right.

And yet I’m scared. I guess that’s a sign of recovery. My fear has returned. But I think it has more to do with I have things to lose now. Or at least it feels that way. After Rachel’s death, I got used to having nothing to lose. There was a certain power and comfort in that. Now that I’m gaining even the smallest bit, I don’t want to lose it (again).

And then I think of what happened and I think, hey, I did what was right. Why should I suffer because the other did not?

I will scorch the earth.

The Widower Diary

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , on October 21, 2009 by antonahill

Got my first real coverage. Wow. Do I have work to do. The reader had many questions and points which, at first, I thought “well it works THIS way and that should be obvious and fuck you!” but then I thought, hmmm, you know, that’s a good point. And that is too. I asked myself, what’s going on here really?

The answer is simple. Since The Family International still exists and still does bad things, I have felt that I need to get TW out there NOW. The problem of course has been that as a story, it just doesn’t work yet. And the difficulty with rewriting it is that I’m still so very close to it that it’s really hard to make the sometimes tough decisions.

In fact, I noticed with at least 2 other projects that have floated out there, when I’ve gotten notes or rejections, I haven’t felt this insane adrenaline surge, haven’t felt defensive, haven’t felt like shouting at the person giving me the notes or rejection, haven’t really cared at all.

I’m too fucking close.

So after thinking about the reader’s comments and the validity to them I thought, you know what? I need to take a break. I need to divest myself of responsibility. I may even need to let go of the idea of a movie. Because if I’m not able to do my job as a writer, none of it matters.

Thus I’ve decided that rather than burn through another draft in time for the Fade In Awards and anything else I might otherwise enter, I’ve decided I’m giving TW a rest. For how long, I don’t know. It might have to be a long, long time.

When I’d made this decision, I felt a good sense of relief. I thought, you know what, I have other things to write or rewrite, at least 1 of which is gonna be a lot easier to sell than TW. As soon as I gave myself permission to let TW go for now, I felt my shoulders fall. I think that’s a sign.

Time to give it a rest.

The Tiffany Craig Letters revisited

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , on October 15, 2009 by antonahill

Earlier today, I got a confirmation of a LinkedIn* connection request I had sent to Tiffany months before she took that massive dump on me. At first, I thought it was e-mail. This of course shocked me as I think she made it quite clear in her Facebook message to me that she had no interest in a friendship with me. Then I thought it was a request. I get LinkedIn requests sometimes. I thought that was weird considering the none-too-secret shit I dumped on her on this publicly available site. Then I realized that she was CONFIRMING the request I’d sent probably as far back as a fucking year ago!

What the FUCK??!!

After I send a request (thinking Tiffany and I are still friends), it’s ignored or months at a time, then, Tiffany dumps on me, I respond in kind, then she ANSWERS my request?? What the fuck is wrong with this crazy bitch?! And I use that word with great care. Sure, she’s a selfish, compassionless cunt, but she never seemed crazy to me. I don’t know what the fuck is going on in her crazy fucking head.

I went on LinkedIn to try to do the obvious, easy thing. You know, fucking deleting the bitch. Do I see a link or button anywhere to do such a thing?

No.

So, until I investigate this further, as far as I can tell, I’m stuck with the cunt. Unless of course she reads all this stuff I’m saying about her and, with her vast IT knowledge, gets fucking rid of me, which, Tiffany, if you’re reading this, I’m totally okay with.

Sigh. Maybe I’ll figure out how to delete her sometime soon. Until then, fuck.

*I find LinkedIn to be frankly 1 of the most useless pieces of shit on the internet. I’ve never used it to find or even look for a job. I’ve never heard of anyone doing such a thing. As far as I’m concernd, it’s just a place for my AntHill posts to go. I’d delete my profile completely (as opposed to partially?) if it weren’t for the fact that it’s another place for my AntHill posts to go.

The Widower Diary

Posted in Uncategorized with tags on October 13, 2009 by antonahill

Another pass and this time with a
I-liked-the-premise-BUT-it-didn’t-pan-out-as-I’d-hoped-it-would. No, I’m not quoting, but yes, she did say “pan out.” What the fuck is THAT supposed to mean? It didn’t end the way she wanted it to? She hated the whole thing? I asked a shorter, politer version of that. Then pitched other projects.

No response.

But this update is not all blue. Just today I got a message from a producer who said he liked it! What’s that you say?

He liked it.

Holy shit on a stick! You mean after what, 4 producers now, 3 contests, and lots of shame and frustration, 1 person liked it?

Yes.

Maybe I didn’t entirely fail as I had entirely suspected I had entirely done.

What a pisser!

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 13, 2009 by antonahill

A few weeks ago, I spoke with a former CoG kid who alerted me that the Salt Lake Tribune had run a story on TFI. Intrigued, I checked it out. It was a decent, straight-forward story, but, by Peggy Stack’s own admission, neither in-depth, nor hard-hitting. The profundity of the article was of little interest to me. What was of great interest was merely that Stack had covered Karen Zerby’s 1st US visit in probably 30 years (I just now found out from Stack that she, in fact, did not cover the speech) to Salt Lake City.

I sent Stack a message (long):

“Dear Peggy,

“My name is Anton Hill. My wife, Rachel Marie Meyer (nee Cook) was born into The Family in 1972. Her mother, Karen Ann Meyer (nee Meyers) had joined at 16 and had married David Cook with whom she had had Rachel and her brother, David (ne Christian). Rachel died almost a year ago after an excrutiating 6-month (though likely much longer) battle with end-stage liver disease. Even if Rachel didn’t contract her disease through sexual contact or poor living conditions, she was brought up to believe that doctors were evil and was not allowed to visit one under any circumstances. Additionally, The Family instilled in Rachel the idea that she was not worthy of health and happiness. Perhaps it was not by a gun, knife, or poison, but David Berg, Karen Zerby, and any other complacent individuals murdered my wife.

“You quoted, “‘We acknowledge that mistakes were made and that there were excesses,’ said Claire Borowik, who has been with the Family International for 30 years. ‘We’ve taken stringent measures to right those wrongs and apologized to former members.’” In her life, Rachel never recieved an apology from her parents or from any Family members. In my speaking with several 2nd generation former members, I’ve never heard of a single case in which any kind of apology has been issued.

“The Family International has a terrible image because it’s committed terrible acts and, rather than take an ounce of responsibility, has denied and dodged. That’s where you come in. Though the
media have taken interest in this issue, said interest dissipates quickly. As laws such as the statute of limitations and the
international nature of The Family’s crimes prevent traditional indictment and prosecution, I fear that exposure of The Family’s activities, both past and present, may be the only way to bring about any justice.

“As such, I’ve chosen to bring Rachel’s story to the forefront of the public’s attention. I’ve written a screenplay (I’m a writer) based on the events in
her life and am planning two possible books, one narrative and one a memoir based on my blog. If you have any interest in any of these projects, feel free to visit antonahill.wordpress.com, the home of the screenplay, or widowerdiary.wordpress.com, the source of my proposed memoir.

“If you’re interested in discussing these issues further, I can be reached at antonahill@gmail.com and 213 925 7108.

“Thank you for your efforts in exposing The Family. I look
forward to speaking with you soon.

“Sincerely,

“Anton A. Hill”

I recieved no reply.

I have to admit that I’ve been disappointed by this, but not angry exactly. In my conversation with Stack, she informed me that she plans no follow-up to her story as the only real reason she covered it was that it took place in Salt Lake. I pointed out that with the comments on the web site alone, but also with the deaths, the international nature, and the well-known celebrities involved, this is certainly newsworthy. She repeated her requirement for it having something to do with Salt Lake.

I thanked her for her time and offered my cooperation if they ever did some kind of follow-up. The conversation ended soon after.

I get it. Stack has a job to do. And that job is not to track down international sex cults. I get that she has other stories to write. I guess I just thought that given the newsworthy nature of this issue, the Utah borders wouldn’t be quite so important.

I was wrong. That’s happening a lot lately.

Really strange dreams

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 9, 2009 by antonahill

1st 1 was I was travelling with Ian, Lizzie, and some other folks. I don’t know what city we were supposed to be in. Wherever it was, it was foreign to wherever we had been before. At some point, Ian found an abandoned structure. Soon after, we were joined by a multitude. Probably 30-50 other people. Everyone wanted to explore this thing. And explore we did. I remember tring to go down into this tower, but or some raeson we couldn’t. Maybe it was blocked. Ian then saw that there were step-like platforms leading up. It was almost straight out of a video game as the platforms were falling apart just enough to look dangerous, but also sturdy enough to use. So up we went.

I don’t remember what happened immediately next except that ian, Lizzie, and I (but not anyone else) ended up in this area that was wet, dirty, industrial, and clearly not meant to be explored. What I mean is the design was not commpatible to people just wandering around. There were 2 big, open cylinders which I somehow knew were some kind of turbine/generator/reactor things (though they clearly weren’t; they were just open spaces). Between the cylinders was this cramped area we had just enough room to walk in.

Once I’d taken this all in, I realized that the cylinder on the right, its floor was flooded with what looked like raw sewage. Keep in mind I’ve never seen raw sewage and it didn’t smel like anything, but somehow I knew it was. I then noticed that there was a snail-trail of sewage leading across the middle area to the next cylinder, which had a workable way up, if not stairway.

It as at about this time that Ian noticed the same thing and ventured into the stairway-cylinder. Finding footing difficult, he actually steppe3d into the sewage about up to his ankle. I coudln’t believe he wasn’t sickened by it. I, on the other hand, was nearirng the vomit stage. Despite his crap-soaked shoes, Ian pointed out that it was not far to the top. I wasn’t about to ruin my shoes and socks, so pulled off my shoes and began the process of removing my socks. I say “process” because it for some reason took me a while. On each foot I had 2 pairs.

It was at about this time that I felt a distinct sense of danger. I knew that soon, the entire chamber we were in would be filled with sewage. I knew that we’d drown in the shit. I also knew that this would be a very unpleasant death.

I soon came to.

Not long after, I fell asleep again and dreampt of the same area in which this sewage plant was situated. thsi time, a whole theme park had been built there with the plant a central attraction. At first, I tried to get back to the plant and felt very frustrated that I coudln’t find it or coudln’t get to it. At some point, I gave up and wandered around this area where people were I think cleaning up and getting ready to go. it was near the parking lots. At this point, I saw David.

David (don’t remember his last name) wsa a kid I knew in the SWEP (Student Work Experience Program) program run by the Oregon Comission for the Blind and held at Reed College every summer. David was a visually-impaired, quite bright and charming albino. During our time at SWEP, David and I had became good friends. I regret that I let that fade when I went to college and beyond. Then again, I suppose he let it fade as well.

I saw David in the small crowd. I ralized that he was with a crowd of SWEP kids. In fact, I think he was still a student participant despite the fact that according to the timeline, he’d also be in his early 30s. After a few seconds, someone pointed me out to David. We were both very taken aback. I made some comment on it having been 10-15 years. AT around this time, others ointed out how I’d barely aged and still looked really good. (I don’t know why my brain felt compelled to compliment me.)

David and I wandered to a nearby picnic table of other SWEP alums. There was Joe, the other visually-impaired albino, much more cranky that David and who had always insisted on wearing one of those irritating moustaches despite the fact that most teenagers look ridiculous with them. And Sherri was there. Though Sherri didn’t look like Sherri. And Eric, the total, very likely retarded boy with absolutel no social grace. And, finally, Nicolle. Though this girl didn’t even resemble Nicole.

Nicole Bontte (now probably married and with adifferent last name) was I think 1 of the half dozen girls I had a serious crush during the latter half of high school. As in all cases (except Cynthia’s), I hadn’t the guts to do anything about it. In fact, by the time I had the guts to even mention it, I was already with Cynthia. I know, big fucking coward. And pretty fucking selfish, for, the only reason I mentioned it to her was there was no way I coudl lose. Had she said she’d never been interested, oh well, I was already fucking a hot Mexican. Had she said that she, too, had been interested, which she did, then I got to feel all kinds of great. Even post-Cynthia I had been tempted to hook up with her, but had never gotten around to it. And of course when I was seriously considering this, I was probably 18 or 19.

So there’s Nicole. We all comment on how it’s been so long. Nicole, or maybe Sherri, has a couple of kids now.

(I should mention that I somehow have shoulder-length hair again, which has recently been washed, therefore wet, and therefore I keep pulling it back in a pony tail. Yeah, I know. Real attractive.)

Questions and comments keep swirling around what we’ve all been doing.

The dread beings.

I’m just waiting for it. I’m waiting for the, “So, Anton, do you have any kids?” And it comes.

“Not yet,” I chuckle nervously. I realize that implied in my statement is that I tried, which, in turn, implies that I tried with someone. I await the 2nd terrible question.

“Are you married?” The question never comes. I’m sorta saved by the bell when Pam (this really irritating, really condescending blonde woman who used to work for the Comission in a completely peripheral, yet ever-present role) shows up. I don’t like Pam. I’ve never liked Pam. I want her to go away. And so she of course doesn’t. She even makes some remakr about my being in the way or some shit like that.

We all head toward the cars. I’m now feeling out-of-place as I know I can’t go with them, but I don’t see Ian anywhere, so I’m left to stand around like a loser.

Can’t go with them.

I wonder, would I have been happy had I gone with them in any sense? Had I stayed in Oregon and gotten some shit job, not gone to college and just hung out with my friends from SWEP. It wa such an anomalous social experience. I partook for 3 summers. Yet, in the time between, I didn’t communicate with anyone from the program at all. it was never out of spite, I just didn’t do it. Strange. I was, in many ways, more at home at SWEP than anywhere else. Even thoug half the kids there were retarded. As I’ve been writing this, I even realize that, at the time, Ian and I qwren’t as close as we had been and have been since. I suppose this was a low point in my teen years, in my social existnce. And now, in the dream, I didn’t even belong with the other misfits.

I think part of me really misses those days. Even though they weren’t that long. I mean, they didn’t even last the whole summer. It was probably 2 months max. So a grand total of 6 months. Maybe it was the innocence of it that I miss. We were making minimum wage and loving it.

And Nicole. Even though we never hooked up, never even kised, in my mind’s eye, it seems ideal.

I miss Rachel.

Glad I have Succinctrix to kick me around.

Thank you

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on October 6, 2009 by antonahill

to the young woman at the Ben and Jerry’s at the Century City Mall.

I’ve been having a lousy day. Not so much lousy as a little down. Shriekfest is over. I didn’t win anything. I’m okay with that. At least 1 person won things that’ll encourage that person’s unfounded arrogance and ultimately cold, rude, dismissive attitude towards others such as myself. But whatever, fuck that person. The real difficulty is that from about early August to this morning, I had impending writing things I had to either look forward to or pay attention to. For a while at least, that’s over.

No direction.

Then the internet access wasn’t working. Slight bummer, but a bummer no less. Then, once I got access, not only was there nothing great in my e-mail, but I got yet another rejection for The Widower. That really set me back.

I’ve thought about this a bit. I think, unfortunately, as much as I’ve tried to keep things separate emotionally, the fact remains that every rejection I’ve gotten on TW has been not a rejection of myself, but a rejection of the tragedy that befell Rachel and the other ex-CoG kids. The message thus far, whether literally this or just feeling like this, has been:

NOBODY CARES

But that’s not the only issue. As I’ve mentioned before, the script has not placed in anything, and, with 1 sole exception, has been completely rejected out-of-hand. Only 1 person said it was strong or decent or whatever. So I’ve been faced with 2 issues. 1, is it that the subject matter is what people are rejecting? Or 2, my screenplay? And the difficulty is that 1 I have no control over and 2 I did the best I thought I could. Considering the recent recognition I’ve gotten with other scripts, it’s really hard to tell what I did wrong. So this engenders a massive feeling of helplessness, which, after summer 2008, I’m mighty sick of.

And ultimately, honestly, I don’t care if the film gets made. It’d be cool. I think it has great sequences that would look amazing on screen. But if it doesn’t happen, it doesn’t happen. The thing that really bothers me is I want to warn the planet about what happened to Rachel and the others and what continues to happen. Yes, I had assumed that all I had to do was write a script, do a good job on it, and everyone would be rushing me to have a piece. Since that didn’t happen, or rather hasn’t happened yet, I’m left with:

Now what?

I’m working on a couple of books. 1 is based on these entries and so will tell the literal story of what happened to us with plenty of background on what happened to Rachel. The other is a fictional account of just what happened to me. I don’t know if that’ll be enough. It’s also been suggested that I write an article on what happened to Rachel. I have no clue how I’d get that published or anything. But the 1st thing I have to worry about is writing. Once I’ve done that, though, back to the above question.

Now what?

I’ve been criticized for taking on the CoG issue without any real means and also with the idea that it’s not my job. But to those, I ask, if not me, then who? Yes, there are books and articles and have been for a long time, but clearly that hasn’t been enough. That’s why I originally wanted to do a movie. I know there would never be a guarantee of said film doing crazy business, but at least it’d be out there. Not in the dying medium of print. Not in some book at the back of Border’s, but in theaters and talked about. I know it’s naive to expect that that’s what would’ve happened, but it at least seemed a good channel.

Now I don’t know.

So I went to the mall to drop off rent at the post office. I told myself I should do something nice for myself. I went to the B&J’s. I ordered a Peppermint hot cocoa. After waiting a while, the girl informed me that the machine wasn’t warmed up yet and that I should come by later. To be honest, I had no real intention of coming by later. I just wanted to go.

So I went off and browsed games. Nothing struck me, so I headed out. On my way out, the notion struck me to give the girl another chance. I walked over to B&J’s.

“I know what you want!”

She was right. I ordered the same thing as before. She apologized for the technical difficulties. When It came time to pay, I handed her my card. Or rather, I tried to. For, before she even had a chance to take it, she told me,

“Oh, it’s on the house.”

I don’t remember if I thanked her. But it really made my day. Such a small gesture. Such a tiny thing. I maybe saved $5. But after having my and my late wife’s tragedy rejected again, after not knowing what the fuck to do about that, after feeling like I professionally have nothing really coming up, it was nice to get a free Peppermint hot cocoa.