Well, dear readers, although I wasn’t really sure it would happen, yesterday I finished my new book. Muse Margaret hasn’t read the final 100 pages yet, so there may be a little work to come, but basically it’s done. I wrote the final line in the late afternoon, then spent a while revising the epilogue, which I wasn’t thrilled with. I finally got it to where I was pleased. I got quite emotional writing the final few pages, partly because of the cathartic nature of writing the book, and partly because it’s just very emotional to finish a project. When I began this book on January 1, I had no idea how long it would take. I knew the book would be at least as long as Kritzer Time if not longer. Because this book was totally new territory for me, I really did think it might take three to six months. But once I began writing I simply could not stop. Normally I don’t write more than two to three hours in a day, and normally if I do five to seven pages that’s a good day. With this book, right from the get-go I was doing at least ten pages a day, and frequently more. I was writing five or six hours a day. I could think of nothing else. I could barely keep up with other stuff I needed to deal with, and I was not that easy to talk to or deal with because I was in this other world. The memories that continually flooded my brain were sometimes overwhelming. I was constantly calling people to make sure my timelines were at least a little accurate. Frequently, they weren’t, but because of the modular nature of the book I was able to simply cut and paste the section where it belonged in the timeline. I spent a lot of book time in the early part of my career. Once we hit the 1980s I was able to zoom right along. The hardest part was what I’d written the day before – I was petrified of going to the place I had to go to and worried I’d drag it out and that it would be just too yucky. In the end, I did it in a page and a half, which seemed just right.
After I finished, I went back and looked at all my original notes. Once I’d written them down, pre-starting the book, I never looked at them again. I did 98% of them, which is pretty good. I did miss one big story and I immediately went back and added it. I told muse Margaret what the other things were and she just thought I should do one of them – just a little detail thing, so I went back and added that. I then reread everything I’d written today, smoothed stuff out, changed a few things and that was that. I then printed out the pages, which I’ll deliver to muse Margaret today. So, to paraphrase my close personal friend, Mr. Stephen Sondheim – Look I made a book – where there never was a book.
The only other thing I did yesterday was to have a late breakfast, get the new motor car washed and waxed and pick up a couple of packages. Otherwise, all I did was write, probably for a total of six hours. I then sat on my couch like so much fish.
Last night, I finished watching the Blu and Ray of The Music Man. What a miracle the film is. What a miracle Mr. Willson was. What a miracle the cast is. Everything about the film is perfection. A lot of fools will complain about the stagebound direction of Morton Da Costa. I’ll take it any day over things like Nine. Every number works, every line of dialogue is great, the choreography is brilliant. Of course, Robert Preston is perfection as Harold Hill, but Shirley Jones is equally perfect as Marian. She never gets enough credit for her performance in this film. And sadly, the day of her type of singing is just gone. We now have to endure screechy belting that all sounds the same. And the genius, the pure unadulterated genius of Paul Ford and Hermione Gingold is breathtaking to behold. What actors today could even approach the comic timing of these two people? We simply don’t have this type of performer anymore. And how adorable are Ronny Howard and my beloved Monique Vermont? And how wonderful is Pert Kelton? And the Buffalo Bills? All hail The Music Man for we will never see its like again. As I’ve stated, the Blu-Ray is very sharp and detailed, but the contrast is milky and there are simply no blacks. I’ve now read two comments from rubes on the usual boards who are actually blaming the original film elements, as if they had a clew about the original film elements. Not to rubes: Get your collective heads out of your collective rectal cavities. This, of course, gets the highest possible BK recommendation.
Well, why don’t we all click on the Unseemly Button below because I am so emotionally spent I can’t even see straight.
Today, I shall Xerox pages and then deliver them to muse Margaret. She won’t get to read them until evening, and then we’ll talk first thing in the morning. I’ll spend the rest of the day catching up on everything I’ve let slide for the last week, and it’s a lot. I have to do new liner notes, prep our new release and get it ready to announce, and then I have to make sure all the changes we agreed to have been implemented in the latest draft of the long musical. I have a couple of packages to ship, too. And then I shall toddle off to the Dena of Pasa to see David Lee’s production of Camelot, which I’m very much looking forward to.
Tomorrow, I have a lunch to attend, and then I’ll finish catching up on everything. I can start jogging again, too, which I really need to do. I have not jogged once since the New Year.
On the weekend, I have a lunch on Saturday, and then, if I’m feeling up to it, I may go to a film music concert. Knowing me, I may not feel up to it. After muse Margaret and I make any changes she may want, I’ll also go and print out two copies of the manuscript, so I can start the long and arduous checking for typos, and whatever I may want to smooth out. Then it will go to my two lovely editors for their good work and eyes.
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, Xerox pages, deliver pages, eat, catch up, ship packages, perhaps pick up a package, and then attend a production of Camelot. Today’s topic of discussion: We haven’t done it in so long and I love it so much – what are your favorite lines in The Music Man, one of the most quotable books in the history of musicals. I’ll start – “You wild kid, ya.” Your turn. Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we, and look I made a book where there never was a book.