I've been working on a script for a live action project and I took a little break from writing and thumbnailing and shot listing to pull together some of the costume reference I had pulled. Trying to inspire further development on four very different types of guy.
1. Murder, Justin Timberlake
2. I Want the Good Times Back, The Little Mermaid Bway '07
3. Plastic Beach, Gorillaz
4. Picture of my Life, Jamiroquai
5. Coconuts, Junior Senior
New Years Day was all about coffee, yoga and Orphan Black. Not that I actually did yoga, but I did walk over to a yoga studio in my neighborhood to pick up a schedule. That's probably worth one downward dog, right? When I lived in Brooklyn, I used to do vinyasa in Tribeca on a weekly basis and considering my back has been fucked up for like, a month. All I think about is how much I need to stretch.
I made some coffee and watched scenes with OB's Krystal Goderitch over and over. Sometimes you just need that. I head to work, eat a bagel, research passport renewal for my boss. One of the new hires in my office is named Elsa. Every time I see her, Do you want a build a Snowman? starts playing in my head.
I didn't sleep well, which means I woke up incredibly late and didn't have time to write. And along with my back, my foot hurts as well; the result of a botched self-pedicure. My boss leaves for a photo shoot, and I end up working until 9pm. I don't usually make resolutions, but I decided that I would set some better boundaries.
More of a rule than a resolution, I've decided that I should no longer jump on my computer before I go through my morning routine. Piddling around on Facebook or reorganizing my reference files is killing my productivity in the morning.
The next morning, I force myself to go through the proper motions and as a result everything was on schedule. I ate breakfast, got in an hour of writing and cleaned the apartment. And worked on Abel Boddy for a few hours for the first time in longer than I want to admit.
This past summer, I was happy that I made it to the Tom of Finland show at Artist's Space in SoHo. I love looking at an artist's originals; seeing the ink lines and the corrected errors really reminds you that an artist you worship and admire is a human being. They made mistakes just like you mistakes. It's truly another level of inspiration. The exhibit continued to their bookstore further downtown, where they filled an entire room with Tom's reference images. Thousands of clippings that he had glued down to sheets of paper, some augmented with a pencil eraser and pen to include jodhpurs or an extra large bulge, or both jodhpurs and an extra large bulge.
I've been dealing with a bit of creative block lately, which I generally deal with by just pushing through with other projects - or just making absolute shit and saying "Ah, well...". Over the weekend I sorta did the opposite: nothing.
I made a small dent in cleaning my apartment, paid some bills, went to a couple of shows with a friend and began going through my old reference videos and deleting anything without a purpose. On the surface these are just a bunch of meatheads flexing talking about the only thing they can talk about; themselves. Why have 6 videos of Ryan Daharsh when I can just have one? So I dragged them all into my editing software and cherry picked the good shots and pieced them together and dragged the rest right into the trash.
Upon viewing, I simply asked myself "Does anything here make me think of Matt?" (Matt is the 12-inch roommate in my comic 12-Inch Roommate). A majority of the rescued scenes came not from flexing or working out, but from more casual actions like bulge of a bicep during a casual gesture or the clench of a pectoral during a shoulder shrug.
The other thing I grabbed was choice pieces of dialogue like: "You got dem peaks!", "...it changes dramastically" and "I'm the big dog" and the random stuff one bodybuilder says to the other while spotting, "You got it, push! It's you, baby", "C'mon. Easy, big chest. There you go" and "Bring it back, I got you. Like a champ." I think the former would make good dirty talk.
1. Violet, Hole
2. Bad Romance, Lady GaGa
3. Slow, Kylie Minogue
4. I Don't Give a Fuck, Peaches
5. Walking in the Rain, Grace Jones
I am meeting Zach downtown for Sisters Follies: Between Two Worlds at the Abrons Art Center, I am walking, drinking a beer out of a paper coffee cup and appropriately listening to Sandra Bernhard's version of Is that all there is? The crowd is full of downtown mainstays like Taylor Mac, Tigger! and Mike Albo. As well as Amanda LePore and Edie Windsor. "Oh look, it's the old crowd," starts Zach, "Only now they're old." We watch a small caravan of 80's club kids in electric wheelchairs cruise down the aisle and take their places in the front. "My lips are so dry," I tangent.
The next morning, I'm too busy standing naked in front of the mirror analyzing my foreskin to notice that my internet is down. Even though I am cut I feel like I am not cut enough. I slowly inch the loose skin up from the base and wonder if I can make the edit permanent through non-surgical methods. "Just a stitch or two."
The new receptionist at my office does not know how to make coffee, it is really weak and the pot always overflows. It's never overflowed before. She also does not know what "skim" milk is and says "Left side please" instead of "Pull the Left Handle" when guests do not properly ring the buzzer for entry into the building. "PULL the LEFT HANdle" is clearer than "Left side please" when saying it through a scratchy outdoor speaker.
Because of the internet outage I spend extra hours at work, when I do leave, I waste time by going to New York Beer Company. Two bros sit down next to me. I slowly begin to realize that they are talking about Aquaman. I go home and fall asleep.
I wake up at 6 am and draw comics until a quarter to eleven at night. Stopping only periodically to eat, stretch my legs and have a meeting about the webseries my friend and I are planning. I've been slacking a little on comics this week and am so happy to crank out so much in one day. I upload my works-in-progress on Patreon and discover that I've lost followers.
1. Thinking of You, Lenny Kravitz
2. Samantha, Hole
3. You Make Me Feel (Mighty Real), Sylvester
4. Tha Shiznit, Snoop Dogg
5. Burn, Hamilton cast recording
The C train is running express, which is making me feel extra effective this morning. The last few hours of my life has been running uncharacteristicly on schedule. I can just feel success beaming off of me. A cute boy slouches to my right; he has short cropped hair and glasses, I've caught him in a pensive moment, he doesn't realize his mouth is cartoonishly downturned. So cute, yet such terrible body language. "Such a pity," I think to myself. I press "shuffle" on my phone and Thinking of You by Lenny Kravitz begins to play.
I've been writing a live action script off and on for the last two years. We have auditions at the end of the week so I've been trying to make sure I get some writing done everyday in preparation for the open call. I managed to get some in before leaving the house, I go to the gym and try and some exercises I found on the internet. They hit muscles I clearly have never worked out in the past. A kid on a skateboard rides past me doing one of those kick flip things, I imagine the board flying out and hitting me in the ankle. The imaginary pain is excruciating.
Work has become a parody of itself. At least my interaction with one specific co-worker has. Every day she'll tell me exactly what she's going to do. But in this exasperated, "I CANNOT focus" kind of way. "Alright. I'm going to tuck myself away elsewhere so I can get away from this" she says as she motions to the room, full of people quietly working, "and get something done."
Spotify on my phone will not let me play any of my playlists, it's forcing me to shuffle. This is the point in the day that I begin to feel lazy. "What are my rules again?" I always insist on making little rules for myself like "Get up and go to the gym everyday" and "stop eating sweets at night before bed". I'm usually very good for like, two days and then it all falls to shit.
After work, I run a couple of errands and agree to meet Zach at a shopping event at John Varvatos. I don't take it very seriously until I arrive and then realize I am completely underdressed. Turns out Neil Patrick Harris' helicopter could not get out of the city ("Because of the Pope" an online magazine editor tells me with 100% sincerity), so he and David Burtka are in attendance. As well as Mr. Varvatos himself. I lie low, trying to not draw attention to my running shoes and casual shirt, emerging only to get to the open bar. An hour later I am sitting on a curb in SoHo, drunk on too many Manhattans and listening to the Hamilton cast recording.
1. The Story of Lucy & Jessie - Follies 2011
2. Cheerleader, Grizzly Bear
3. Children's Story, Slick Rick
4. When Heroes Change Professions, Gentleman Reg
5. Elastic heart, Sia
Track 1 -
It's morning and I'm researching how to properly cut the sleeves off of t-shirt. I find a video on Youtube and lay out a freebie that I don't care about destroying but think it would look good with the proper "slut cut". I watch the video and cut each sleeve a different way. They both look terrible and I throw it in the garbage, opting to squander the next few hours with refiling my reference material and watching Escape to Witch Mountain on Netflix.
I don't think I am alone in the fact that I have always dreamed of being someone else, y'know, like the way little kids want to be Superman or Wonder Woman. I think about this a lot while simultaneously watching Witch Mountain and moving endless images of well built models and narcissistic meatheads in tight workout clothes into different folders. The kids in the movie, Tony and Tia are psychic orphans on a voyage of self discovery, Tia is also a telepath and Tony is a precognitive and I was always drawn to how each of the kids have their own personalized versions of telekinesis. Tia's abilities were more traditional while Tony had to channel his powers through his harmonica - which he played expertly. Even as an adult, it is impossible for me to not imagine myself and my sister in these roles.
Track 2 -
I'm walking into work whistling the "Reading Rainbow" theme song and I think to myself, "Should I cross the street to get a better look at that guy?" He is a fit young Asian guy in a black tee and backpack, sipping from his Starbucks drink through a straw. I stop and take an assessment of my thirstiness and decide against it. The day at work rockets by, an All-Agency meeting announcing the launch of a new food delivery app for stoners, the planning of a going-away party that everyone has opinions about but no one wants to make decisions, a late lunch at the local deli buffet.
Track 3 -
I spend an hour setting up a call that everyone is late for and then rescheduled without saying anything to me. "Hey, its not my time." I try to tell myself as I disconnect. A similar thought pops into my head when I'm standing by meeting my boss is in, and I desperately need to pee. I realize that I've gotten to a point where urinating comes fourth on my list of priorities during the work day.
The highlight of the day is an all-agency email about lockers that I have carefully crafted using infomercial GIFS. The more I watch it, the more it cracks me up, I really cannot get enough of it. It is the highlight of my day. I round out my day looking through the responses to a casting posting I put up on Backstage.com.
Track 4 -
"You're not a nice person" Angie texts me. This is her reply when I tell her I was called a harsh critic in the office. "I just wanted ppl to do their best" I respond. "But some people won't ever do the best you see for them". I vow to be "less judgmental at work", to which she replies, "Lol. Let me know how that goes." Soon after, alight with forced positivity and the open heart of changed man, I step on the C train and immediately hear two women laughing hysterically with each other. "Ugh. Seriously??" My mood is ruined.
Track 5 -
It is 6:30 the next morning and I've been working on my script since 3:45. I am not successful in sticking to the routine I set up for myself. So I try to make a plan. Elastic Heart comes up on shuffle. I hit "repeat song" and just let it play. I decide to go into work even though the office is closed. It plays all morning and during my commute to the subway. On the platform, I let it play one more time, as the C Train arrives, my music automatically shuffles to...
I remember first seeing the movie Trick (1999) when it was fresh off of the independent film circuit and thinking it was a breath of fresh air. With its familiar character dynamics and story structure it is, in many ways, the first gay romantic comedy. It has all the trappings of your standard chick flick where two disparate people meet and fall for each other, but it manages to apply it to modern gay culture in a very authentic way.
The movie was the directorial debut Jim Fall (The Lizzie McGuire Movie), and it features Gabriel & Mark. Gabriel (Christian Campbell) is a nascent musical composer and Mark (J.P. Pitoc), a mysterious go-go boy. Over the course of one evening they meet and decide to hook up, but one lives far out in Brooklyn and the other has lost access to the studio apartment he shares with his straight roommate. These sort of geographic roadblocks to entertaining at home are very real problems when you are young and struggling in a city like New York.
It is a movie about casual sex between two strangers done in a very non-judgmental way. The modern version would be called Grindr and would begin with a miscommunication over which person was supposed to "host". In its 90-minute running time, it manages to squeeze in a broad, and only mildly dated, swath of relatable moments for a gay audience: leaving your straight friends to leer at go-go dancers in a seedy bar, tolerating a boundaryless fag hag friend (painfully portrayed by Tori Spelling), self-consciously dancing shirtless in a club and, the ultimate fantasy in the New York City hookup scene, a chance encounter on the subway.
Upon my first viewings, I truly considered it a movie for "us", it was a DVD that was on the shelf in every one of my gay friends apartments but seemingly unknown in the heterosexual world. I remember trying to show it off to my crew of close straight friends one evening... they were unimpressed. "Why are all the straight people in this movie so kooky?" My roommate asked playfully. "You mean, like the way gay people are usually portrayed in mainstream films?" I retorted.
Its overall sincerity and charm trumps all of the performances - no one is going to blow you away with their acting. Campbell is unsure and innocent, Pitoc, sexy and quiet, Spelling; shrill. But it does capture a lovely moment of being gay in 90's NYC, when you and your off-off Broadway performer friends ACTUALLY went to Cozy Soup & Burger. It also features a brilliantly uncomfortable scene where drag queen Miss Coco Peru corners one of the protagonists in a men's room and poignantly spins a web of doubt and deception.
Of course, the real star of this movie is Pitoc's body. After spending many a night in the big city carefully analyzing the torsos of go-go dancers, I can say authoritatively that he really was the perfect specimen to play this role. The character of Mark is the textbook fantasy hookup of any unsure average gay Joe; a physically desirable, sexually experienced man of few words who actually has a lot of heart. In the future, there will be a special line of boytoy robots sculpted in Pitoc's image from this movie. It was really disappointing to see that he was not this fit in any of the things he's been in since - even when he played a Chippendales dancer.
In the alternate reality where this movie takes place IRL, I do not believe for one moment that Mark and Gabriel went the distance. In the fictional sequel, they are not married and living in Connecticut with 2.5 springer spaniels and interviewing surrogates. However, by the end of the movie you believe, as much as you would with any mainstream rom-com at least, in the power of their happy ending, even if it was just for that one evening.
1. Poor Unfortunate Souls - The Little Mermaid '07 B'way Cast Recording
2. Pretty Lady - Pacific Overtures '04 The New B'way Cast Recording
3. Drip Drop - Empire Soundtrack
4. Let the Groove Get In - Justin Timberlake
5. The Healer - Erykah Badu
It's morning and I am washing dishes, I realize I have no plan for the day so I decide to fix it. I write for an hour and before hopping into the shower, I hit shuffle in iTunes on my iPad and Poor Unfortunate Souls from the 2007 Broadway cast recording of The Little Mermaid comes up. An hour later, as part of my new daily routine plan, I am adding Studio Museum Harlem's free day to my calendar. Should i just go to every free museum day in the city? I ask myself.
I figure out which of my bills I should put onto my AMEX, and get ready for the gym, Whats the plan? I need a plan. I keep going without a plan.
While passing Port Authority, my thoughts about how disgusting Penn Station is is interrupted when this hot Latin pocket straight passes me by, he's with his friends but he is hands down the cutest. I pass a pack of young bums chilling out on one of those little metal fences they put around trees in the city. A guy with vitiligo limps by with a cane.
I decide to do all pulling muscles, when I leave my triceps feel heavy. I eschew wearing something to cover up my gym clothes on the way home, reminding myself looking fat in my gym clothes now will make it all the more satisfying if I start seeing results. As i walk to my office I pass gay couples with nice bodies. There are so many over here on the Westside, near the river during summer.
In the crosswalk outside my office, a bus with a Ray Donovan ad crosses my path, I focus on the slogan, "Hire Power" and can't help but think it should belong to a Human Resources reality show or something. I'm going through my emails; schedule requests for the creative directors and removing old email folders. It's a rather ineffective day, working hard not to take on everyone else's crazy energy.
"What ever happened to Lilias White?" I ask Angie over a burger.
I get home around 7:30 and start drawing, sketching a caterpillar character for an Abel Boddy fantasy sequence. I fall asleep early.
1. 40 oz on Repeat - Fidlar
2. Fire with Fire - Scissor Sisters
3. High Times - Jamiroquai
4. LoveGame (Robots to Mars Remix) - Lady GaGa
5. Better Git It in Your Soul - Charles Mingus
My weekend started around 11:30 AM on Sunday, up until then I had virtually no progress on my goals for the last four or five days. It was around this time that I decided to go to the Tom of Finland exhibit at The Artist's Space. Where I took my time inspecting the originals on display. "Seeing the originals is so great bc u see that the artist is mortal." I texted my friend Zach along with a picture focusing on the hand done cross hatching.
At the gallery's bookstore nearby they had an entire room of Tom's reference collection. Pages and pages of magazine clippings of men's faces and bodies. "This is heaven." I texted Zach.
The next day while walking to work, open loops flow through my head. Should I check my email right now?/Did I schedule that dinner?/Did that intern candidate respond to me? When it comes to workload at my job, expectations are high and they are only pushed higher by my over developed sense of responsibility. It would be very easy for me to excuse the quantity of tasks pushed in my direction for things slipping through the cracks, however I know that I've dealt with a lot more and come out fine. So I schedule a private work session for myself, where I can lock myself in a room and work uninterrupted for one hour. I decide to make this a regular thing.
I see the designers gathered around some design work but do not recognize the project. Turns out they've finally begun doing actual design work on a job they started researching mood on two months ago. I go home. Check my boss into a flight to Puerto Rico and fall asleep.
A few hours later, I wake up on top of my sheets and start working on a animated character in Flash only to ask myself an hour later, Why I am doing this? There are other projects that are far more pressing. Ones designed to produce actual results.
That night, I'm making bratwurst in a downtown butcher shop. It is part of an outing I scheduled for the summer intern program that I supervise at work. A hands-on sausage making class hosting by one of our clients. On the subway ride home, as usual, I contemplate my lack of productivity and how hard it is to get out of this hole. Inspired by the events of the week, I decide to start putting in the work myself with a series of daily rules. I come up with 10 immediately, but I decide to start with five:
1) Draw comics - 10 hrs/week
2) Exercise every day
3) Stick to a routine
4) Write 1 hr day
5) Pay bills/debts on time
Sunday morning I awake to a slightly messy apartment, no food in the fridge and a desire to just sit around in my pajama bottoms and watch reruns of Project Runway, but instead I choose to open the shades and get to work...
1. The Meek Shall Inherit - Little Shop of Horrors, Broadway Cast Recording
2. Falling Back - Gentlemen Reg
3. A Land of a Thousand Words - Scissor Sisters
4. Keep it Goin' Louder - Major Lazer
5. Loser - Beck
I’m at The Museum of Modern Art for a tour of the Latin American in Construction: Architecture 1955-1980 exhibition. The assistant curator of the exhibit is guiding us around the museum space, walking us through the collected pieces. But I am completely distracted.
I woke up at 5am but didn’t get out of bed until 6:30, I knew that I should work on my script and go to the gym but instead I checked my email, Facebook, Instagram and Tumblr. Would you like to see Tom Daley painted as a shark? "Yes, yes I would." I do and then I masturbate. At 7:15 – right before I get into the shower - I press shuffle on my iPad and The Meek Shall Inherit from the Broadway cast recording of Little Shop of Horrors begins to play. I am out of Cafe Bustelo so I buy a large cup of coffee from the bodega next door. I should have gotten a small. Work is as expected; last minute conferences that I am forced to prioritize, triple checking the smallest details, answering countless questions regarding my bosses availability and waffles. This week it is Banana waffles with a beef curry and maple syrup.
During the tour, I keep thinking "they're coming to get you." I’m not exactly sure who “they” is, but I know that being broke is literally going to make me a paranoid schizophrenic. I have this ominous feeling that someone is coming to take away my material possessions.
I am very conscious of my feet, because I am wearing the most expensive shoes I own, a pair of grey suede bluchers from Paul Smith. They cost the equivalent of half of a month of my rent. I purchased them years ago when I made a lot more money. I rarely wear them now, and as a result they are one of two pairs of shoes I own that are still in almost perfect condition. I only picked them because I wanted to wear something nice for MoMA. The tour lasts an hour and a half and then I breeze through Yoko Ono: One Woman Show, 1960-1971, stopping only to watch a video of houseflies crawling around her vagina and then I leave.
Soon, Zach and I are standing on the deck of a penthouse in a party at a hotel on the Westside Highway. We're trying to avoid the heterosexual douchebags inside. A "model" and the event photographer talk about the recently launched New York Men's Fashion Week. "It was just for gay guys," she says. The photographer agrees. Zach bites his tongue. After they go back inside we look into the windows of the neighboring apartment buildings. Including Hugh Jackman's 3-story $25M penthouse. From the deck, we see him walk out of his bathroom, naked and holding a towel in front of his crotch.
"All I hear is the excuses and not the solutions." Zach says to me when I respond negatively to moving my computer equipment to a friend's apartment so I can continue to rent my apartment on AirBnb. I am stubborn and defensive when people have suggestions on what choices I should make, however I cannot see how this suggestion does not just produce more problems.
We head back uptown and I leave him pensive and annoyed, swing by a restaurant near my apartment where Angie is hanging out with her actor friends. She's surprised that she was able to summon me with a text message. I consider getting a drink, but I'm pretty broke and already drunk so I hang out for a few minutes and then head home, eat a honey bun and doze off.
I wake up a few hours later in time to check my boss in for his flight from Los Angeles and then fall back asleep.
The next morning I catch the crosstown bus to help a couple with a birthday party. I met them in December when they hired me on Taskrabbit. It was by far the best gig I found on there. She clearly liked me too because she emailed me seven months later. We prepare food for a Maryland-style crab boil. I collect my $150.00 and head back across town.
"What's with the late coffee?" Julia, the woman who runs the neighborhood cafe asks when I stop by around 6. I quickly explain that I'm trying not to go home and just fall asleep. “I'm trying to be productive.” I go home and fall asleep immediately. I dream that I peel a layer of skin off of my right foot; I do it cautiously expecting pain that never comes. The new skin feels tight.
I wake up at 5 AM on top of my sheets. My Ipad is on and at 12%. Kimberly is nudging me through Words with Friends. Doug Loves Movies episodes have been playing on autopilot in the other room for almost 10 hours. I play "Undoes". 39 points. I run though the list of things I did not do yesterday and then go back to sleep. I wake up an hour later watch some Bojack Horseman until I doze off again. I wake up an hour later and go to the bathroom. Everything comes out an unnatural green. Thanks, Blue Velvet cake.
The next morning, I drop off my laundry and go back to the café. There is dried semen on my right hand. My left hand smells like lavender. The women behind me talking about bikini waxes. I stand up to leave. I get back to my apartment turn on some music and start to clean. I then sort through my reference material; moving images into different folders that is supposed to make my creativity flow easier. I upload some sketches into six Instagram posts, and check my phone for the next few hours as the "likes" roll in. All of the usual suspects, with a few randoms that clearly just follow hashtags.
Around 2, I go to Midtown Comics downtown just to buy the first 2 issues of We Are Robin. I come home and draw for a few hours. I have some progress but I feel like I'm just spinning my wheels. I end up back in bed reading the comics. I masturbate again and then doze off, wake up and repeat.
I eventually text Mickey and see what he and Wilfredo are doing. I'm ready to socialize. Have a night. They invite me over for drinks. I pick up some mixers. Go over to their apartment. We hang out chatting. Drinking. They bicker like the married couple that they are. Mickey and I flip through Entertainment Weekly. Talk about television shows on Hulu. The movie Trainwreck. The drama at Gawker.
We start watching Inside Amy Schumer at the same time that Wilfredo decides to go meet a boy. I immediately know my night with them is over. It's not even 10. I am waiting for Mickey to say he is going to do the same thing, he doesn’t directly tell me he is, but he cuts the night short and I leave.
A helicopter hovers near my building, police lights flash down the street. Is this the “they” you've been waiting for? “Eventually”, I tell myself. I can hear the helicopter from my bedroom window. I crack open a beer, bite into a honey bun and press play on iTunes... Loser by Beck…
I've been doing a lot of planning lately, too much planning frankly. I learned a while ago that I need to stop and ask myself "Is what I am doing right now 'process' or 'results?"
This is because I LOVE process - almost more having a finished project - so much so that I have stacks of ideas sketched out and folders of project "notes" files. It's the one thing I'm trying to change about the way I work, because ultimately what's the fun of having all of these 'great' ideas and interesting approaches if they can't be easily consumed in a fixed for by an audience?
So this week I've been trying to prioritize the work over the planning, because in the end, who cares about everything else, if there's no strips to show for it?
I'm having a difficult time rebuilding momentum on my comics and stuff, and I think it's mainly because I've got the sequence of things out of order. You can't draw a comic without doing some sketches any more than you can drive a car without putting gasoline in it first, right? (ugh, platitudes) So as a reminder, I made some notes to myself what the stages of the projects should be. For an ongoing project like Abel Boddy it's simply a script and sketching but for other ideas that aren't nearly as developed I should probably start with a written description and some mood boarding. Y'know, build upward.
Because I got my start in animation I've always enjoyed series bibles; the collected information about a show that can be used for pitching the idea or explain the rules to team making the show. I've considered all of my attempts to create them for my pieces pretty self-defeating, because I had always been building bibles with the intent of pitching (which means following a bunch of restrictive formatting guidelines) or trying to create a model pack that looks like it's from an actual production (rather than just starting the production).
I found this Batman: TAS writer's bible online that I thought was really great, mainly because it focuses on the world-building, written description side of the pitch bible but serves as a model pack for the writing of the show. It's my new jumping off point for project development....