Fresh New Exciting Sexy Ideas for TV Shows.

All of these ideas are currently under serious consideration
by various top people in TV and movies. For your own good,
please do not try to steal them.

.......

"Stranger in Blog Town"

Suddenly one day, nobody is able to start a new blog in town.
For some mysterious reason there is a limit to how many blogs
there can be in town, and that limit has been reached. Everybody
who was thinking about starting a blog and kept putting it off,
they go into a panic, fearing that now they will never have a blog,
unless they move to another town and start life over from scratch.

Then somebody with a blog dies for no good reason. Foul play is hinted
at. A waiting list forms to take the dead person's blog place. The
people who already have a blog are frightened, because they wonder
if the people who don't have a blog will try to do something to take
their blog place. The people who are on the waiting list are
afraid that somebody will try to do something to move up the
list. A brutal blog black market ensues. Everybody who has a blog
blogs about only one thing--the blog mystery crisis--although they
watch every word they write in order not to offend the people who
do not have blogs.

Then a stranger rides into town on a golden palomino. It will soon
turn out that she has the answer to the mystery, although, is her
"answer" worse than the mystery itself?

This is Movie-of-the-Week material, rather than a series. It is
suspense, with romantic adventure undertones.

..........

"Tick-Tock, Hypno-Schnauzer"

A schnauzer named Tick-Tock was born with the ability to
hypnotize oversensitive people. He pants and looks in their
eyes as if he needed help. Then they keep asking him questions
about what's wrong until it's too late and they realize they're
hypnotized.

Tick-Tock then gets his victims to do his bidding. That
consists of providing him with all the peculiar food he
prefers, taking him for walks that he escapes from to run free,
throwing sticks and balls which he may or not chase and return,
and providing him with various family-fare dog entertainment.
So far, so good.

The only thing is, a strange mastermind named Ernie notices
Tick-Tock can hypnotize people. Ernie tries to trick Tick-Tock
into evil schemes, e.g., hypnotizing all the guards at the bank,
or the cheerleading coach. Each week there is a battle of wills as
Tick-Tock tries to pursue his own self-interests and Ernie
tries to pervert what is a natural gift from God to Tick-Tock.

This is Animal/Adventure/Inspirational.

.......

"Detective Tim, Embryo"

An embryo in a poor immigrant named Sandra is discovered to have
mystical abilities to detect evildoers. One day his mother is sitting
on a bus bench and Tim starts kicking like hell for no reason, only there
is a reason.

Namely, the person sitting next to Sandra has just robbed a bank
and is trying to blend into the crowd. Sandra sees a packet of money
with a bank label that falls out of his trousers. She rolls her eyes
and makes head movements at a cop who's in the area looking for the
robber.

From then on, there is a battle of wills between police agencies
who want to employ Tim to detect criminals through his kicking,
and Sandra, who wishes only for a normal life for herself, for
Tim, and for Tim's mysterious father who cannot reveal himself
at this time.

A team of doctors and scientists determine through technical means
that Tim will lose his detective abilities once he is born, but
minor complications ensue that make Tim not be able to be born,
but have to stay in Sandra's womb. At first, Tim is upset, then
accepts his situation and makes the best of it.

This is a Sci-Fi mixed with thoughtful domestic romance.

.......

"Emily in Backwards Town"

Emily is a young woman setting out on her own to find fame and
fortune, starting from scratch. She's naive but tough, having run
an entire ranch since she was fourteen years old, after her parents
and sisters and brothers and whole extended family were taken away
on a spaceship during a reunion picnic. Emily had fallen asleep under
a table to sleep off some bad potato salad, the aliens didn't see her,
and she has felt grateful but guilty from that day forward.

Then, one day, the farm is destroyed in a tornado. Looking for
happiness, she stumbles into a town that goes backwards in time. At
first, she doesn't notice, because she is so lonesome and stunned from
her bad luck in life. She thinks it is her, but can't figure out why
the waitress keeps taking away her full plate of food, etc. But then
when she notices time is going backwards, it's too late and she is
caught in the strange web of the town.

But not all in a bad way, because she helps people. Since she already
lived in the time that the other people in town are going backwards
into, she is able to suggest things and give advice about the future,
which is her past.

There are also evil forces in town who want to control the railroad,
the saloon, and the plunge. They don't want her interfering in their
"good thing." Also, she becomes coach of a church youth softball team
whose success is threatened by its players regressing in skill levels,
and by her growing notoriety as a troublemaking guru. The team wants
her all to itself, but she is trapped in a web of helping people
by using her powers of being normal in forwards time, rather than
having romance or learning how to play jazz piano, which is all
she ever dreamed about.

This is a Mystery, with a flair of community crime drama.

.........

"President, Zombie, Friend"

A zombie is elected President under mysterious circumstances.
The story is told from the point of view of the President's
childhood friend, Jim, who has known the President both as zombie
and as a normal person. The President makes Jim his adviser, so
Jim can provide stability and counseling 24/7, a needed commodity
as the President is highly emotional at times and completely
indifferent at other times.

The first episode tests their friendship as aliens land in the Rose
Garden. The President wants to eat one of the aliens to see if
somehow the extraterrestrial elements will make him not be a zombie
any more, so that he can start life over from scratch, but Jim
counsels patience until they can figure out what the aliens want,
although are the aliens themselves all or more that they seem?

This is political culinary noir.

One Great Gulp

I was barefoot, my yellow rain coat on, dark glasses, a bug bite on my upper arm itched, gloves, a ski mask, a black hat. Four or five accidents happened all at once down on Western. A body lay in the street and nobody came. A woman stood on the curb, longing. Clouds were coming out of the Union Bank Building. Somebody said "flagpolla unfirma." A large strange piece of furniture slipped from my grip over the side. In the infinitesimal distance I caught the red mouth of Angel's Flight. The body in the street began to rise into the air. My heart went out to him and then came back to me in fear. I was in my own arms, so confused I understood everything in one great gulp and rose to face the day.

Took A Strange Fall

I'd had free-floating anger all day, barked at my wife a couple times
out of nowhere, made amends. I think my anger had to do with a situation
where I believed I had not been properly praised & appreciated for the
wonderful things I'd done.

Later we were headed to a meeting. I was carrying a big blue glass
bowl full of fresh picked cherry tomatoes from our garden. I was
still impatient with her, with myself, with parking, with
carrying the tomatoes, with thinking about being late & not
getting my favorite seat. We were starting to cross the landscaped
middle strip of a four-lane road & the traffic was too thick, so I
started to rush up the middle strip until we could cross.

My left foot hit a sprinkler-head and my right foot hit my left
foot, so that suddenly I was falling straight down like a cut
sapling, holding this blue glass bowl in my hands, and the bowl
was right in front of my face as I fell, thinking, This does not
look good.

I landed with my face right in the bowl of tomatoes. The bowl
didn't break, or it would have been bad. Half the tomatoes were
smashed. There were two guys behind us who stopped to ask if I was
all right. When I said I was all right, they went ahead to the
meeting. It was a kind of twilight zone in-between time in the event
where I was embarrassed but not sure if I wasn't badly hurt or not.

The bowl had caught under my left ear & I kept checking to see if
my ear was there or cut or what--it was all right. My arm and chest
had also hit the bowl as I landed, and would bruise like hell the next
day.

So, I wasn't seriously hurt. The two strangers who had stopped were
at the meeting but left right after my wife and I finally got there.
Nobody had ever seen them before. My wife thanked them for stopping
and they smiled. I was too embarrassed still, and shook up, to even
think about thanking them.

During the meeting I was disoriented, going back and forth between
the lingering free-floating anger, and a new strange calm, as if
something toxic had been knocked out of me by the fall, but I was
still trying to hold onto the angry place as protection, or the
delusion of protection.

Then in the meeting I shared about the fall, and it came out hilarious
in parts, to my amazement. How I had thought in the middle of the fall,
"This is going to be interesting," and how I said to my wife when I
finally stood after falling, "I'm not going to that meeting," as in
"I'll show them, or show somebody, or show something." And the whole
sensation of my face going into the tomatoes, and comparing it to
getting rotten tomatoes thrown at you for being phony, or stuffy, or
bloviating.

Then after the meeting I couldn't figure out why nobody was eating any
of the tomatoes.

Now, I don't know what the long-term effect will be, if any. But
three days later, I'm still wondering about it, about the glass not
breaking, at the tomatoes cushioning my fall, at the two strangers
who stopped, at the fact that all my anger came out in humor when
I told the story.

I believe it has something to do with taking myself too seriously,
and especially my anger, my impatience & resentments. I felt so totally in
charge when I stormed into that landscaping for that short-cut, and
in one-step everything was taken out of my control, as if it were ever
in my control. And there was a micro-second of non-verbalized awareness
where I knew I was falling just like a tree into hard dirt and there
was nothing in the world I could do about it but wait for impact, and the
only reason I kept holding onto the bowl of tomatoes was that I had
been holding onto it when I started the fall, and whatever I was doing
at the beginning of the fall I would be doing at the end of the fall.

Still thinking about it, wondering on it, grateful for it.

The Convenience & Pitfalls of Picking Yourself As Your Hero.

Yes, my hero is me.

I don't mean that as a compliment. I don't mean it
as conceitedness. I'm not a stuffy person. I mean only
that it's both convenient & practical to have yourself
as your hero. Conceitedness has absolutely nothing to
do with it.

First, I'm present more than anybody else in my life.
I'm here all the time. Even when I'm sleeping, my dreams
are basically full of myself. Dreams are nothing if not myself
placed into other people, furniture, animals, and situations
so to see me from different angles. I didn't invent dreams,
or myself. It's not my doing that my life is full of myself,
asleep or awake, thus making it inviting to consider myself
as my hero. Why?

Because I would be a fool not to take advantage of my constant
closeness, as far as heroism goes. Whatever benefits I want to
receive out of having a hero, if I'm my own, then I can get those
benefits 24 hours a day. I never have to go look for my hero
someplace else. I never have to even think of them or drive by
their house or go get a book they wrote or watch a movie they
starred in and got millions for while my ticket price goes up,
although I understand economics, more or less. As your own hero,
you are always right here to be inspired by yourself, providing
you're both inspirational and open to being inspired at the same
time.

As it is in dreams, so it is in waking life: even when you
think about other people, you're really thinking about yourself
indirectly. Your views of them are filtered and smeared and
stained with your own perceptions, likes, wants, and moods.
So why not surrender to the fact that everybody and everything
in your life is really just a middleman to yourself. Therefore,
cut out the middleman and pick yourself as your hero. It's your
choice, of course.

Furthermore, I know secrets about myself that I might not know
about somebody else if I had them as my hero. Secrets I may
just not want to particularly know. It might be a little
harder to have someone as your hero if you know every single
thing they do and think all day long, and night, too. Imagine
knowing your hero as well as you know yourself. But you
can always use a little bit of denial and put on rose-colored
glasses to overlook certain disgusting or alarming thoughts
you have, or irksome peccadilloes you exhibit, or revolting
opinions you harbor, or eyebrow-raising activities you might
participate in with yourself or others.

I also must note that as my own hero, I get on my nerves at
times. That is, the hero part of me does get bugged by the
non-hero part. Imagine having somebody that sees you as their
hero following you around 24 hours a day. Not only following
you around, but inside your head watching every thought, and
participating intimately in every activity you do. That could
get annoying, or even somewhat frightening at times.

So, you have to make certain allowances for yourself, or for
the different parts of yourself, hero and non-hero alike. I
know I do, in any case. Sometimes both heroes and fans are
annoying, that much more when you are both of them at once.

Of course, the main point of having a hero is that it gives you
something to live up to, or feel good about; that there's at least
one person in the world who understands you and loves you and leads
you on a heroic path, even if they never heard of you and never will.
Even if when you write them a letter of admiration they might have
their robot secretary answer you, if you're lucky. Even if you saw
them rushing down the street surrounded by a retinue of hanger-ons
and bodyguards, they wouldn't even bother to look your way if you
screamed and jumped up and down and threw your clothes in the air.

If you have yourself as your hero, you may not always be able to
inspire yourself as much as some conventional external hero, but
you never have to go through any of the humiliating experiences
above either. As your own hero, you always answer your own love
letters promptly. You always wave back when you wave. You always
humbly and happily give yourself your own signature, day or night.
And you certainly never have to throw your clothes in the air
to get your own attention.

In other words, you can't get away from yourself. In fact, if
you're not your own hero, there will be somebody around you all
the time who is constantly failing to live up to the standards
you have set that are based on your hero. Is that what you want?
I suspect not, but if I'm wrong, then so be it and be my guest.

You can have other heroes, of course, and should, and I do. I
have writer heroes. I have sports heroes. I have spiritual
heroes and political heroes and attractiveness heroes. But they
are not around all the time. They might be in my head, but I
forget about them. Do I ever really forget about myself. Not in
so many words. I may not be hero material, to be sure, but the
convenience of self-heroism far outreaches the inevitable lowering
of standards. You never have to fear finding out some sickening
secret about them that causes you to dump them as your hero, because
you already know all the sickening secrets about yourself.

Therefore, after much difficult and pain-staking consideration,
my hero is myself.

If One Paragraph Keeps the Boogeyman Away, Then Have Two ...

Both from Mixed Animal . . .

* * *

We packed up and broke camp. The wigwam turned out to be inflatable
and squeezed down to the size of a lampshade, which we strapped
to Buzz's head. Him and her started down the mountain, while I
took a moment to drink in the enchanting vision of my home village
far below in the glow of sunrise. There sat little Hmmm, in the
disconcerting shape of Founder Lola's missing foot, a tiny herd
of cottages and farms in the green teacup of the ancient valley.
Puffy pink clouds floated above it like bunny slippers, only new
and fresh, not worn and smelly. You missed your village, looking
at it like that, with people too small to even see, much less bug
you. You couldn't wait to hike down and get home. You was thankful
you could dwell there your whole life, and not have to venture into
the great unknown of the non-Hmmm world beyond, where unfamiliar,
unbeseen, and untowards things could happen at any moment.

* * *

He ceased howling. He stopped shaking, trembling, and tossing about.
He sat up in our arms, sniffed the night air, listened and surveyed,
alive and alert as a sentry to something that was bigger than the
torment of having nor skin nor fur nor blubber. Something more important
and powerful than death itself had entered the mountain clearing.

A Paragraph a Day, Part 2.

As far as Mabel went, who known how she saw
the big picture of me and her. With gals,
all you did was watch your front foot
and don't step off any cliffs.
If you looked up at the big picture
with a gal, you just went right over.
Gals was born for the big picture.
A gal not only had her own mind
humming away on new methods
to outsmart you, she also had
all other gals' minds since time begun
built in to her mental atoms
to advise her along. Whereas a fella's mind
was pretty much on its own from beginning
to end with no help in sight.

Apple Molecules

The apple just sitting there is not really just sitting there.
There are molecules in it that are moving all the
time, although it seems like it's sitting still.
It's called nuclear physics. Or atomic science.
Molecules, atoms, quarks, quantums, other things.

Moving.

All the time.

It doesn't look like anything's moving.

That's why it's called nuclear physics. Nuclear means
it's too small to see, and physics means things are moving.

And they use binoculars. I mean--

Microscopes. And even the microscope molecules--

You mean one part of the apple moves over to another
part of the apple while you're not looking?

No. It happens while you're looking. It's happening all
the time, whether you're looking or not. You could have
never been born, but it would still be moving, even though
your eyes swear to God that it's sitting completely still.

Does it makes any noise?

If you could hear good enough. A humming, buzzing, depending
on what kind of molecules, the shape of the atoms, what
season, how cold it is, so on. Thing molecules moving through
space produce sound molecules. And they are attracted to
ear molecules.

So, while I'm looking, this part on this side moves over
here, say, and this part that was here moves over there?

No. It moves inside. It moves within itself, in the little
parts of itself.

So, parts don't move where other parts are, but parts
within parts move?

Exactly.

Well, if no part of the apple is being replaced by another
part of the apple as it moves, then what's being moved around?
I mean, don't something bump into one another in there?

No, because there's space. An apple is mostly space.
Just like we're mostly water. When you touch yourself,
I mean in a normal way, and you're not sweating, then you feel
dry, even though you're 95% water. Same with an apple.
Every apple atom, or apple molecule, is mostly space, giving
the electrons room to fly around in. But if you look at it,
it doesn't look like space, because it's squeezed together
by being so small. But it's all happening within, inside.

Inside the peel?

Inside the molecules.

Are there peel molecules?

Yes, in so many words.

Why can't you see the peel molecules moving around?
They're right there on the outside.

But all motion in a peel happens on the inside side
of the peel. Some molecules are more sensitive to the sun.
Plus, peel molecules are pressed together tighter
than the white part of the apple, because of eating
purposes and letting vitamins from the sun filter
into the inside of the apple, and the seeds.

How do they get pressed together?

Gravity, curiosity, time, and how flat the molecules
are when they're first made, and how much air is in them.
Every molecule of anything, if the pressure could be
released, would be the equivalent of an atomic bomb
explosion. That's why it's called atomic bomb. It's
not really the atom bomb exploding, it's only the
atom bomb atoms. The only thing holding anything together
is neutrons and protons huddled together inside in the
middle of atoms while electrons fly around.

And they're not moving, the protons and neutrons?

Yes, but very little. Huddled type moving.

Well, this is terrible. This whole thing is just terrible.

Not really, because everybody's used to it by now.

Well, I'm not.

You never heard of nuclear physics before?

I heard of it. I just thought it was scientists poking
around in things. I didn't know that everything were
moving around all the time like that. I just thought
it was a real bad idea or something.

Well, don't worry about it. Like I say, it's all happening
way inside the apple. I wouldn't worry too much about it.

How far inside? It can't be that far, an apple's not
that big.

It's not that big only in terms of how your mind is trained
to see something as this big or that little.

What do you mean, "my mind is trained"?

Well, not your mind specifically. Children's minds. You
don't want to tell a bunch of children that you could put
your hand right through everything, because it's moving
and full of space, and your hand, too, and electrons hurtling
around, and protons and neutrons huddled in there looking
at the electrons like we look at shooting stars, and everything
could turn around and put its hands right through you, too, and, in
fact, does, is.

Changing the POV in a Novel.

Which is what I'm in the middle of doing
on an earlier novel, Oranges for Magellan.

For the bulk of the novel this guy Joe Magellan
is living on a 10X10 redwood platform
at the top of a sixty-foot flagpole.
He's trying to set a world record
for his own peculiar obsessive reasons.

I originally had it in omniscient third person,
so I could go to other characters on the ground,
including his wife and son who live and work
in an attached café/apartment at the foot of the pole.

But Joe & his story didn't feel close enough in third person.
It's a simple but strange story that needs to be as close
as possible to get.

So, the problem was how to do first person
when the guy is in one spot for a lot of the book,
and much of that time all by himself?
And still include a bunch of other earthbound characters.

I toyed with but didn't care for him being in first person
and the others in third.

I decided to start off with him in first person, before
he goes up, with his family, stay with him in first
when he is up, but go to first person with other
characters below as well.

I just designate (in parentheses) whose chapter it is
at the start of the chapter. I don't change within chapters.

I also have a couple chapters so far
(I'm about a third done changing the whole thing)
that have remained in the original third person omniscient.
I like the mysterious feel I get out of that.
It wasn't mysterious before, but now, contrasted with
the surrounding first person chapters, the omniscience
has a sort of ominous feel it didn't have when the book
was all third person.

The omniscience & steadiness of third person
made the story too remote, but also made the narrative
too unified & smooth. With changing POVs, the divisions
& conflicts between the characters, and between what's happening
at the top of the pole & on earth below, gets an edge
& an emphasis they didn't have before.

I've never liked innovation for innovation's sake,
but this variation I decided on was more a necessity
to boost the intimacy with the characters
the book was crying out for. Joe's being stuck
up there called for the mother of invention.
Though I'm poorly-read, I was aware that variations
of this POV set-up existed, and have been informed
of others. Which is not quite the same as doing it yourself
& by necessity rather than whim.

It feels simple & appealing to me,
once I overcame the
"Oh you cant do that it's not permitted &
people will complain & get confused!"
state of mind. Somebody said,
Don't underestimate the intelligence of your readers.
I have to remember that not all readers are as slow
to catch on as me.

It feels right because it almost changes itself as I go,
because the book has come alive to me on wavelengths
it was half-drowsing in before, and because it's
easier to follow & less jarring or fragmented
than I thought it might be.

I like to make a book easy on the reader to get into,
inviting, accessible, so I was concerned just a tiny little bit
that this arrangement would be like rocks on the path, or
too sudden lefts & rights on the path. But I believe
it's not difficult to go with, and in fact fun, so
those rocks turn into playthings to kick and throw
instead of trip over, and those zigzags become exciting
& enlivening. I'm happy that this change has renewed my
love for the book.

A Paragraph a Day Keeps the Boogeyman Away

I put the radio on soft. All the way home I was thinking about things that were happy and lonesome at the same time. The snow fell light and the moon kept turning on and off in the clouds. My animal and my sister snored away beside me, with the heater clanking but working pretty good, and Sam Cooke crooning "You Send Me" on KWDS.

CHILD

I wonder why, so often, when I walk out the door
into the world (except to go to "work" in the garden),
I am unable, or forget, to be the same easy free child
of delight, mystery, and wonder I am when I'm writing.
-Me

My music is best understood by children and animals.
- Igor Stravinsky

You cannot write for children. They're much too complicated.
You can only write books that are of interest to them.
- Maurice Sendak

Only child life is real life.
- George Orwell

It takes a long time to become young.
- Pablo Picasso

I don't know who I am or who I was. I know it less
than ever. I do and I don't identify myself with
myself. Everything is totally contradictory but
maybe I have remained exactly as I was as a small
boy of twelve.
- Albert Giacometti

I detest a child that is wise too soon.
- Erasmus

I decided to make a circus just for the fun of it.
- Alexander Calder

Because of my willingness to play on the surface,
the work underneath could then take place.
- Joseph Chilton Pearce

The thing is to become a master and in your old age
to acquire the courage to do what children did when
they knew nothing.
- Henry Miller

A child is a curly, dimpled lunatic.
- Ralph Waldo Emerson

I remember when I was very young and I saw the circus.
I thought, "How can life be like that? Can you live
that way and always pay attention to the absurd?"
I try to create my art with this in mind.
- Pat Oleszko

Genius is childhood recaptured at will.
- Charles Baudelaire

Some day you will be old enough to start reading
fairy tales again.
- C.S. Lewis

Not to expose your true feelings to an adult seems to be
instinctive from the age of seven or eight onwards.
- George Orwell

In the lost childhood of Judas,
Christ was betrayed.
- George William Russell

Childhood decides.
- Jean Paul Sartre

If we do not keep on speaking terms with children,
we cease to be men, and become merely machines for
eating and earning money.
- John Updike

The best way to give advice to your children is to
find out what they want and advise them to do it.
- Harry Truman

That great Cathedral space which was childhood.
- Virginia Woolf

Don't give a child a knife.
- Greek proverb

What can I say to you? I am perhaps the oldest musician
in the world. I am an old man, but in many senses a very
young man. And this is what I want you to be, young, young
all your life, and to say things to the world that are true.
- Pablo Casals

White childhood moving like a sigh
Through the green woods.
- W.H. Auden

(Click on the title of the post to go to the book
these quotes came from.)