Life Is Better Behind the Camera

Okay. Feeling a little better. Still scared shitless when I really think about it, but I've returned to familiar stomping ground and am feeling a little more solid than I did during my last post.

Dave and I are in Pittsburgh for the weekend. I made the rather crazy decision to come up here with my remaining dollars and patch up some holes in "Hunt for the Holocron," and Dave, to his amazing credit, was entirely responsible for the idea of getting me out here to do this. I have been feeling really down on myself recently (note the flowery language of my manic-depression below), and I think instinctually he knew that thinking about Jedi Knights and F-stops would cheer me up. Not only did he put his costume back on (the third time after we were officially "done"), but he paid his own way here, fed himself, woke up at 4:50 AM with me after going to bed at 2 AM, trudged around the woods all day, and spent two hours watching the rough-cut and helping me see it in a new light.

We got beautiful footage today. It was the first time I had ever filmed a sunrise. The sun erupted over the far hill, splashing over a sea of low-hanging clouds in the valley below. Dave stood, hooded, on the outcropped rock overlooking the valley, and I was filled with the sense that I was in the right place.

Of course the lens of the camera was a little dirty and we couldn't go as wide as we wanted and the tripod sucks for anything but stills, but tonight, as we watched the footage, it didn't really matter. It is a beautiful shot. Dave called it our "street cred" shot, the one that folks see and go, "Oh, they're for real." The movie, and my life, needed scope. Perspective. The larger picture.

I own the book "Shot By Shot," but I've never read it. I used to be proud of my ability to not read things and still seem to know them, but now I'm just embarrassed that I never took the time. I am convinced that this approach to my life is the reason why I feel so paralyzed now, why I feel so much like the illusion of a person as opposed to a real person. I never wanted to do the hard things. The boring things. If I was really smart, shouldn't I be able to just DO it?

I only remember one thing from the book "Story" (I haven't read it yet, either. There is a pattern here), and it is this: Talent is gasoline with no engine. Craft is the engine. Talent without craft is like gas on the ground - it burns quickly and accomplishes nothing. I have enough of the former and very little of the latter. Perhaps I should start reading.

There were other shots we picked up over the course of the day that belied a new visual sophistication for the film. They would not be present had I not ventured out four years ago with a cadre of friends into the woods to make a Star Wars movie. It sounds so crazy now, you know? I mean, four years is freaking FOREVER. I was 20 when I started this thing. It's becoming a veritable time-capsule.

What I know now, more certain than I ever did, is that if I don't finish this Star Wars movie, I will never be able to finish anything in my life. I can't take the next step until I finish this one. Part of me knew that this is what I needed, that this is what would count, however ridiculous that sounds. And if I don't see it through, I will have sinned against myself and others.

So thank you, Dave. For knowing me better than I knew myself. For inspiring me to keep working. For continuing to put on the suit with the shredded boots and the missing sleeve guards. For continuing to believe in me.

And thank you, Dear Reader, for continuing to read. The other night, writing to you kept me from melting.

Your,
Martin

P.S.- I'll post pictures when I get back to Alexandria on Sunday!