I first saw it at a bookstore maybe a year ago. It was on a whale (the islands in the middle of the store with all the featured books), and I picked it up and read page 1. Here it is:

I open my eyes and don’t know where I am or who I am. Not all that unusual — I’ve spent half my life not knowing. Still, this feels different. This confusion is more frightening. More total.

I look up. I’m lying on the floor beside the bed. I remember now. I moved from the bed to the floor in the middle of the night. I do that most nights. Better for my back. Too many hours on a soft mattress causes agony. I count to three, then start the long, difficult process of standing. With a cough, a groan, I roll onto my side, then curl into the fetal position, then flip over onto my stomach. Now I wait, and wait, for the blood to start pumping.

I’m a young man, relatively speaking. Thirty-six. But I wake as if ninety-six. After three decades of sprinting, stopping on a dime, jumping high and landing hard, my body no longer feels like my body, especially in the morning. Consequently my mind doesn’t feel like my mind. Upon opening my eyes I’m a stranger to myself, and while, again, this isn’t new, in the mornings it’s more pronounced. I run quickly through the basic facts. My name is Andre Agassi. My wife’s name is Stefanie Graf. We have two children, a son and a daughter, five and three. We live in Las Vegas, Nevada, but currently reside in a suite at the Four Seasons hotel in New York City, because I’m playing in the 2006 U.S. Open. My last U.S. Open. In fact my last tournament ever. I play tennis for a living, even though I hate tennis, hate it with a dark and secret passion, and always have.

As this last piece of identity falls into place, I slide to my knees and in a whisper I say: Please let this be over.

Then: I’m not ready for it to be over.

A year later, I still remembered that first page. The screaming irony of  it all: that a soft mattress, or standing up in the morning, causes this great athlete complete agony. That he’s thirty-six but feels ninety-six. And, most importantly, that one of the best tennis players in the world hates tennis and always has. And then most excruciating irony of them all: “Please let this be over. I’m not ready for it to be over.”

If you want to capture someone in a screenplay, or in a book, and get them to read the whole thing you have to create intrigue. And what better way to do that than to expose this kind of irony? What better way than to provide an opening with more questions than answers?

And that’s the beautiful thing about this one. Watching the agony he experiences in the first few paragraphs just getting out of bed is enough to get us to read the next few. “I play tennis for a living, even though I hate tennis, hate it with a dark and secret passion, and always have,” will get us to read at least through the next chapter — after all, we want to find out why he plays it if he hates it so much. But those last two lines: “Please let this be over. I’m not ready for it to be over,” will get us to read all the way to the end of the book, because we want to see why, if he hates it so much, he doesn’t want to stop.

In case you’re wondering, the rest of the book is excellent. This prologue chapter continues with a blisteringly suspenseful account of the match he plays that afternoon (a match he won, as was the case with many of his wins, during his afternoon shower), and then in the next chapter we start over from Agassi’s youth. The middle may drag out a bit as it delves mercilessly into the battered self-immolation that was most of his career (in particular I think he spends a tad too much time dwelling on the details of individual matches), but I think it serves us well to capture the agony of the lows before rising out of the ashes to the sweet, understated climax that’s so perfectly befitting a professional athlete’s career.

But I will always remember this first page, which is what got me to read the darn thing in the first place.

Turns out I was quite impressed. Not just with Timberlake — who I expected to like — but also with Mila Kunis — who I didn’t — and the script, which did a great job of remaining fresh and invigorating in the face of a logline that pulls for predictability. The script made fun of itself (countless scenes reference how stupid romcoms are), made the sex scenes hilarious, and had their relationship go through a variety of stages, rather than the simple and obligatory “up — lots of sex” –> “down — things start to get more serious” that you might expect. As a result, it was fun and funny to watch, and as always stirred up the romantic in me (which I think is why I like romcoms to begin with).

But then I read something like this, and I remember the truth.

There are two things that stood out for me, as I spent an entire afternoon finishing the second half of a 500 page book, and both of them related to telling a good story. First: create intrigue. I think there are a number of ways this can be done – in Andre Agassi’s autobiography, Open (which I started reading right after I finished this book), it’s done by completely subverting our expectations in the first page. I’ll talk about that when I blog about that book. But in The Lost Symbol, it’s done by creating a mystery as to exactly what the maguffin is. We know that it has extraordinary power, is a matter of national security, etc., but we don’t know exactly what will happen when the ultimate thing they’re looking for is found. This makes us keep reading, because we want to find out.

The second thing is the rule of endings: surprising but inevitable. This is something ScreenwritingU hammers home in its Writing Great Endings class: whatever happens at the end has to surprise the audience, but needs to be set up so that when it finally does happen, we realize that there’s no other way it could have gone. This is particularly crucial for thrillers, as all the great ones follow this rule: The Sixth Sense, The Usual Suspects, Chinatown, The Silence of the Lambs, Se7en, Memento, and so on. And in The Lost Symbol, when I got to that “surprising but inevitable” moment, it exploded off the page at me.

I’m not saying that The Lost Symbol is a literary masterpiece, mind you. There are a few moments that are more obvious than the author would hope. And the maguffin, when revealed, was highly anticlimactic and way too preachy, in my opinion. But if a book’s purpose is to entertain, to keep you wanting more, this one certainly does it. And that’s a damn good start.

Listen to the interview with author & screenwriter Owen Egerton

For those that would prefer to read the abridged version, below are some highlights from the interview.

On Family

One of my writing instructors, Debra Monroe had said that as humans we want to often avoid conflict, but as writers we need to make conflict happen. Take two people that you’d never wanted them to meet, you’d never put them in the same room, you’d never invite them to the same dinner party, and force them together and see what happens. I find when I do that in writing, eventually they form some kind of family. Or they kill each other. But more often than not, they form some kind of family which of course slowly kills each other.

On the Role of Fiction

I find that the role of fiction is to expand the questions and to expand the mystery, not to pat ourselves on the back for our own opinions. There’s fiction out there that does that, that says, “Gosh, I think that was injust as well, I’m so glad that I got to see this movie that made me feel good about my own opinion. Racism is bad! I agree with the hero of the movie!” Sometimes what we need more is something that troubles us, something that takes us a place we don’t necessarily expect to go and leaves us there with some questions.

On Collaboration

Working in comedy, there was always the need to collaborate, and always collaboration led to something better and grander than I could have come up with on my own. The analogy I used to use is like children playing blocks in kindergarten and each of the kids is only given so many blocks, and they all want to build a tower, each tower can only be seven blocks tall. But if the kids start working together, stacking each other blocks, then you’ve got a huge tower over twenty blocks tall. It’s a tower none of them could have built on their own. And that’s what I find when it comes to improv, or shows at the Alamo, or working with Chris and Russell, we collaborate in such a way, and we say, “Yes and” to each other’s ideas in such a way, and we’re loose enough with our own ideas that eventually a script comes out that there’s no way I could have written on our own.

On Comedy

There’s an interesting danger that happens in screenwriting where you’ve been working on a comedy script, and sometimes it can be a year that you’re working on it, and there’s some joke that’s still funny but you have to recognize that it’s funny because it doesn’t seem funny anymore. You have to have a craftsman’s eye for comedy, as opposed to a connoisseur’s eye.

On Instant Gratification

I was writing a novel which I knew was years away from being done, and longer away from being in print. At the same time I was writing sketches that I knew I could show my sketch group on Monday, we could rehearse it on Wednesday, perform it on Friday, and I was thinking, “This is immediate gratification.” And improv is even faster. I’ve gotta be careful, because I really want to do the novel, but I’m getting so much gratification immediately if I come up with something funny on stage.

On Job Security

I have some friends who have said, “Well, I don’t want to make the risk of going into being a full time artist,” whether that’s as a performing artist or as a writing artist, or whatever, “because I need the security of a job.” But if anything can be learned from the last few years of recession it’s that those secure jobs are not secure, and that’s a false security.

On Specialization

The advantage, I think, is the way these different genres of expression play off each other. The playfulness with which I approach improv comedy very much affects the way I approach the storyline of a novel or short story. Also my understanding of novel story structure has really helped me when I go to a screenplay. So I find they all bleed into each other and improve each other for the most part.

On Raising Children

There’s a greater gift to give our children than financial stability. There’s an example of striving to live a full life. There is the adventure of taking steps and not knowing where your foot’s going to land.

On Optimism

I’m pretty cheerful, but I don’t know that I’d call myself an optimist. I’m pretty disappointed in a lot of the world around me, and I see life can be a pretty dark, dark experience. But with all of that, I guess maybe you’d describe me as a pessimist with hope. That’s why I smile.

Specifically, there are two things I’m reacting to:

• Plot Holes: As a musical, and as a TV show, there’s always an extent to which we suspend disbelief. The fact that there’s always a band ready to play every song is amusing, but it’s not something that bothers anyone who isn’t a douchebag. That’s not what I’m talking about here.Remember the episode that followed the Super Bowl last year? It involved a series of football games, where the players did things that people never do in football games. Like, for example, taking a shotgun snap when you have the lead in the final 30 seconds and are supposed to be in victory formation. They might have gotten away from it if we hadn’t just watched the biggest football game of the year.That was Season 2, and at the time I was willing to overlook plot holes like this, because I was absorbed by everything else. But this year there just seems to be so damn much of it. I’m talking about Sue Sylvester running for office against nine opponents, and then later in the election it turns out she’s running only against one. I’m talking about the fact that she loses that election to a write-in candidate. I’m talking about Sugar Motta being rejected from the Glee Club, which forms the entire basis for the season’s conflict, only to be welcomed in with open arms (and narry a word about her lack of talent) after the Trebletones lose at Sectionals.

  Any one of these by themselves  I’d be able to overlook, but adding them all up it just bugs the crap out of me. It’s just plain lazy writing.

• Unsupported Character Changes: EVERY. ONE. Always. Comes. Around. And. Does. The. “Right.” Thing. EVERYONE.  I love Blaine, and I’m super happy he’s part of the regular cast, but who leaves an expensive private school so they can be closer to their high school boyfriend? Michael Chang’s father, who hasn’t spoken to him in weeks, suddenly, after a pretty lame conversation, decides to come see him perform (not even his best performance), give a standing ovation, and then completely change his tune? I don’t think so. Finn and Rachel, in a five minute conversation with Trouty Mouth manages to convince him to give up the money he’s earning and come back to Ohio? And then he convinces his parents in another five minute conversation? Oh, come the f*** on. These are major life changes we’re talking about here, and I understand that these things happen in TV shows, but again, it seems like every five minutes someone is doing a complete 180 that changes either their whole character or their whole life.

So, for those reasons, I am officially ending my relationship with Glee. You had me for a full season, which is better than most. But it’s time for us to part.

I’m not surprised SMDS got cancelled. The misanthropic foul-mouthed antagonist that made the Twitter feed so popular was just too raunchy for William Shatner and the sitcom’s family hour timeslot to get away with. By the time it got through Shatner’s insipid acting and all the censoring the network no doubt required, the concept had been watered down from something edgy and hilarious to being just another couch comedy. The fact that it ran for 18 episodes is evidence of this – people knew about it, they wanted to give it a chance, they just lost interest because it didn’t live up to the hype.

Perhaps the show would have lasted had it been a product of Comedy Central or FX. Maybe even a 10 pm timeslot but with an edgier actor in the title role could have given it the legs it needed. But as it was, it was lucky to run for as long as it did.

As I was looking at the numbers, though, I realized that most of these top-grossing films also had enormous budgets. Which got me thinking: which films were the most profitable - i.e., had the highest box office return as a percentage of their budget?

Before I go any further, let me mention that I got my data here, and there were some conspicuous omissions – including six of the films from the Top 20 grossing list – but after collecting the data for those films manually, I discovered that of those six films, only one made it into the top 20 most profitable, so I think this list can at least give us some useful information. It’s also worth noting that films released late in 2011 won’t make this list, though they may very well be headed in that direction. For example, War Horse has yet to make back its budget, but it was only released a week and a half ago.

The first thing I notice is that of these films, 4 are horror films (Insidious, Paranormal Activity, Apollo 18, Super 8), 9 are comedies (Laugh at My Pain, Jumping the Broom, Bad Teacher, Bridesmaids, Our Idiot Brother, 50/50, The Hangover: Part II, Diary of a Wimpy Kid, No Strings Attached), and 5 are dramas (Courageous, Like Crazy, The Help, 50/50, The Ides of March). Fourteen of them had budgets under $20 million, none were animated, and only 6 were adaptations or sequels (Paranormal Activity 3, The Help, The Ides of March, Harry Potter, Limitless, Diary of a Wimpy Kid). All of this, I think, is good news, as these are the films that make people’s careers.

The worldwide results admittedly look much more like the franchise/adaptation/animated features list that BSR posted about, as does the list of films in places 21-60 (the 100-200% of budget range). But I think this is an interesting point: comedies and horrors sell well on spec, and can launch a career, as can a good drama.

What do you think?

• eBook sales continue to go up (duh), and may comprise more than half the fiction market in 2012.
• “a pricing structure will emerge in which price is proportional to quality.  The market will reward books that are priced “correctly” on the price-quality curve and the market will punish those books that are priced either too high or too low.”
• Major shakeup in companies – a lot of smaller publishers will be bought or squeezed out of the market, self-publishers and (their freelance service providers) will continue to become more popular, and at least some of the Big Six will finally realize that they need to rethink their publishing models if they want to survive.

Of course, my favorite part of this is the prediction that freelance editors, like myself, will have banner years, and that “entre-authors” (entrepreneur authors) will do well while people who “dabble at writing will see decreased success.” Combine this with the fact that the Year of the Dragon usually brings prosperity, and I’m feeling pretty good.

• What I said I’d do: 55 blog posts and  average 500 visits a month for the 4th quarter.
  What I did: 37 blog posts and ~400 visits a month for the 4th quarter. The latter isn’t bad, considering I didn’t post anything the entire 4th quarter. I actually hit my highest numbers ever in July, and was headed up, but then just stopped blogging.
• What I said I’d do: Finish three screenplays, one in time to submit to AFF, Nicholl, and several other screenplay competitions.
  What I did: Finished one. Submitted it to AFF (didn’t make it past the first round), Blue Cat, and some other places. And I discovered that I’ve made just enough as a screenwriter that I don’t qualify for Nicholl.
• What I said I’d do: Attend San Diego Comic-Con, Austin Film Festival, WLT Agents’ Conference, the Mayborn Literary Nonfiction Conference, and the WLT Summer Writing Retreat, as time allows (some of those my be on conflicting dates).
  What I did: Attended AFF. Tried to register for Comic-Con, but I made the mistake of waiting two days to buy tickets, and they were already sold out. Bonus mention: managed to create my own weekend writing retreat to finish Postville, and it worked very well.
• What I said I’d do: Start acting again. And get paid for it. God I miss acting. And getting paid for it.
  What I did: Started acting again. And got paid for it. Technically. I probably made about $1 an hour at TRF, when you look at all the time and expenses that went into it. But it was well worth the investment, both to my emotional psyche and (ultimately) to my pocketbook.
• What I said I’d do: Edit 12 books. Close sales on two more ghost writing projects.
  What I did: One ghostwriting project and two book editing gigs. But I also closed some good technical writing contracts, produced some technical videos, and developed scripts in other ways. So on a professional level, I’m happy with how things turned out.
• What I said I’d do: I want to produce $25,000 in revenue in the month of January. This will require, rather than just surviving at the game of being a professional writer, growing a pair of balls and creating something completely new. It’ll mean finding clients who  really recognize what good content is worth, and who recognize that I can provide it.
• What I did: Not $25,000. But I did end the survival aspect and started doing the writing that I love, and getting paid well for it. And I found clients who recognize what good content is worth, and who recognized that I could provide it, and have been getting rewarded for that.

• Finish ScreenwritingU’s ProSeries and graduate into the PS Alumni.
• 52 blog posts and 1000 visits a month by the end of the year.
• A stage show at TRF, getting paid a living wage for the time I put in. Write and publish a book of poetry (written by my character) that I can sell as part of that.
• Sign with an acting agent and land 2 auditions per week.
• Land a paid screenwriting gig.
• Edit 6 books. Close sales on two more ghost writing projects.
• Pay off all interest-bearing debt (including the car I just bought) and max out my wife’s and my IRAs for 2012.
• Finish three personal writing projects, and a rewrite of one more. At the moment this looks like screenplays will be the larger portion of that, but I don’t want to limit myself, in case I decide, for example, to write a novel. I should also mention that this seems somewhat ambitious, given my results from this year, but I figure if you reach for the stars, you won’t come up with a handful of dirt.
• Semi-finalist in at least one national screenplay contest.
• Direct a feature film, or at least start pre-production on it.
• Bring internal peace and confidence to the likelihood that my wife and I will be having children in the near future.

• Acting: Went on cast for the Texas Renaissance Festival, and pretty much accomplished everything I set out to do. Created a swordfight that everyone was talking about. Won Performer of the Day on the third weekend, and Best New Character at the end of the season. Made a lot of friends, and had just a ton of fun. And I’m setting myself up to do more with that (hopefully in a way that I can actually make money at it) in the coming year.
• Books I’ve read: Reading for AFF seems to slow things down on the reading front. Up to a point this year, I was counting the number of books I read, and then I stopped, because it just seems weird that the entire couple of months I’m reading 30+ scripts, I don’t get to count any of that toward my book count. But whatever. I’ve been on a crusade looking for self-published books that have sold well, as a possible avenue to finding property to adapt into movies. To that end, I just got done with Waiting for White Horses by Nathan  Jorgenson. As a storyteller I felt the drama could have been much more consistent; as a screenwriter I felt it could have been much less meandering; as an editor I felt it was way overnarrated; and as a product of the twenty-first century I would have preferred the plot move in a different direction. But the literary fictionist in me could appreciate it for what it was – a product of love, and a deeply personal story to which anyone familiar with rural America can relate.
• Movies I’ve seen: Been a lot of these. Two of the recent ones – and also two of the best I’ve seen this year – were Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol (in IMAX – totally awesome) and Midnight in Paris. Both had really well-written scripts with strong character voices.  Also watched the entire first season of Dexter (and can’t wait to see more), and got to see some amazing stuff at Austin Film Festival – the ones I still think about, and talk about, are The Artist and Butter.
• Screenwriting: Taking ScreenwritingU’s ProSeries. Although I am, at this point, about three weeks behind, the information and the attitude of the class is really amazing, and I’m hoping to spend the next week or two catching up. Tonight I get to watch The Usual Suspects, starting with the end first. Fun. The script I’m working on is the true story of Ragen Chastain, the world’s only plus-sized professional Country & Western competitive dancer. And I’m continually taking Postville to the next level.

I guess that’s it for now. Catcha in the New Year for completion and goals.