Dear Mudge: Fait accompli


Dear Mudge,

I hear you’ve spit-balled your last scene and have stuffed that writhing mass of film into its circular can. Smick/smack, done.

Bravo. Drinks all ’round.

For those of you who might have missed the cue:ENTER-STAGE-RIGHT, the Mudge has been writing a play? A screenplay? A caricature/parody of modern life? No, no, I got this: A tribute to a bunch of 90’s child actors who starred in a television show called Fifteen. The catch being that there is one special actor (remember that post about job titles a while back?) who made it kinda big in Hollywood and to find out who that actor is you’ll have to discover it on your own:

‘Mudge, now that you’re done. (I’m kidding, the work is just beginning. The creative work is easy; it’s the selling work that I’ve been told is the hardest. ‘Been told as, me? Sell? Fuck no.) But, now that you’re done, and idle—and we all know what happens to idle minds and fingers—I’m wondering what’s next on your agenda?

That is, between study sessions of course.

(And donning the telltale cap of the Vermilion Vigilante whilst slashing and gnashing at my narrative offerings.)

And don’t tell me it’s too early to start spy-hopping your next project.

But, if you wanted to dwell on the existential impact of pandemics, lockdown economic malaise, the need for dog-owners to counter stay-at-home quarantine and walk their puppies, maybe that, in and of itself, provided we discuss it amongst ourselves, could be construed as “research” for your next project.

Perhaps a certain actor needs his stage-name etched in rock? Costume included?

Virally yours,


6 thoughts on “Dear Mudge: Fait accompli

    1. They’re certainly more quickly consumed, once you get over the format. But I’m guessing that you like the 1:10 description to dialog word ratio. (Which might be more like 1:100.)

      Liked by 1 person

      1. No, I like the ease of structure. No pondering over sentence structure with descriptives, or punctuation.

        Bob, anxious, facing corner in kitchen – I can’t watch you cook embryos
        Civilly, calm, at stove with skillet – I thought you said you wanted eggs
        Bob begins to cry – But not REAL eggs. The kind in the milk carton
        Cicily rolls eyes – Those are real eggs, Bob. Someone else cracked them and whipped them.
        Bob begins to wail – Oh God! They beat them, too?
        Cicily flips eggs in skillet – Bob, have you taken your medication?

        Written like a lazy novel. Action scenes need choreography just like a book, or at least a storyboard. And head time is straight out the door. Dialog, filler action scenes. Man screaming stands on scenic cliff, surf pounding far below…sled dogs racing through falling snow for five minutes…car chase, the classic Eastwood spaghetti western Mexican stand off of cuts to sweaty faces.

        Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s