Articles, radio stories, ads, columns, corporate communications, novels or scripts – we’re never short of ideas. You can see some of our designs in our Redbubble shop, and read Joey’s political humor blog, Dear Donny: Presidential Pen Pals, right here at IdeaJones.
Joey Jones has published and edited many newspaper and magazine articles, radio stories, advertisements and commentaries, and has ghostwritten everything from speeches to love letters. She is a past Nicholl Fellowships in Screenwriting semifinalist and Fade In: Screenwriting Awards quarterfinalist. She also gathers sound and conducts interviews as a freelance field producer in the Sacramento area, and her on-air performance as “The Dying Fish” can be heard in the Water Education commercial series.
Mark Jones makes a living producing radio shows (like Connections on Capital Public Radio’s Music Station). As Martin Jenkins, he’s heard weekday evenings on CapRadio’s four news stations, and Sunday mornings on 91.3FM KUOP Stockton/Modesto. Mark has also sung, acted and directed local theater and TV.
We’re about the story. Whether it’s the facts and figures of nonfiction, or the deeper truth of fiction, we want to find just the right words, sounds, and/or images to get it across.
We’re also about the process. “Do the work right, and on time.” Life’s too short to make things harder than they have to be.
If you want to make points with a good love letter, here are a few tips to get you started.
it’s not about you. It’s about the person you’re sending it to. Here’s your chance to show you are (or still are) paying attention. Everyone wants to be noticed, seen, and loved for themselves.
Make it relationship-appropriate. Don’t get into body comments or sexual stuff unless you are in a relationship and already know s/he wants to hear what you think of his/her butt/chest/etc. Leave out what you want to do with said body parts unless you know for sure s/he wants to hear it. For sure. Don’t guess here.
Short, simple, and sincere. A short letter that shows you really have been noticing, listening, seeing beats a long, flowery, generic letter that doesn’t sound like you.
Still stumped? Pick something you love about that person, for example, the way s/he smiles. They way s/he treats people. How does that make you feel?
“Dear (name): when you smile at me, my heart feels like a balloon about to rise into the sky. You are so kind to people around you and make them feel important. Just by being you, you add something wonderful to the world.” Say something you honestly feel, specific about that person, that you admire.
Remember — love letters aren’t just for romantic love. Your mother, grandfather, friend, etc. also want to feel appreciated. That teacher who went out of his or her way to help you would probably love a note saying thanks for teaching you the mysteries of algebra or the difference between “it’s” and “its.”
When you express love, you get to feel it yourself. It’s good for you and for the person who receives your note. Don’t be afraid to tell people you care about what it is about them you appreciate. Happy Valentine’s Day!
We made the quarterfinals of the ScreenCraft Cinematic Book Competition! (Update… we made the semifinals!)
Just got the word that we made the semifinals of ScreenCraft’s competition for “cinematic” books, which means script readers could see this as a movie.
There are a lot of great books that wouldn’t make good movies. To be made into a movie, a book needs a visual language. Long ago, we took a series of classes from Dale Wasserman, who wrote the play “Man of La Mancha.” He wrote the “book” of the play (as opposed to the music and lyrics — although he maintained some of the lyrics were lifted from his text). He also wrote for film and tv as well as theater.
He said that books are the most literate art form, then plays, then film, then tv. It wasn’t an insult — it’s just that film and tv are more dependent on visuals than language. Language matters in film and tv, but first, you have to have pictures.
Mark and I have placed in screenwriting contests, and Mark writes in pictures. He’s good about prodding me to look at what I’m writing and think about what it looks like. “It’s a movie in the reader’s head,” he told me one time. “When I read, I see it and hear it.” Plus, he trained me in producing for radio, where creating mental pictures is what it’s all about. It’s something I still work on… as you can tell, I tend to be verbal.
Lots of writing is you alone with your thoughts and your computer (or notebook, or…). I talk to myself when I’m writing, wondering if anyone but me will understand what I’m trying to convey. There’s no way to tell until someone reads it. First we had beta readers, then did live readings, then got feedback from a reviewer, and at every stage, examined what was working and what wasn’t. Every time a reader says they enjoyed it, and tells me what connected with them, I want to cheer. Now we’re querying it. It’s a terrifying process.
I overwrite, then have to cut like the villain in a slasher film. There’s always a struggle to cut what is “extra” without taking all the juice out of it.
To know that the ScreenCraft readers, who have never met me and don’t know what I sound like, “hear” and “see” this novel is a joy. Congratulations to my fellow semifinalists, and to everyone who completed a novel they were proud enough of to enter it in a competition — that’s a big achievement right there.
This has been a year, hasn’t it? I mean, they all are, of course, but this one seems to have had more than 12 months in it.
We had to spend the first eight months fighting to protect our little family. Someone got it into her head to try to take our puppy away from us. Lots of drama, strangers being sent to our door, the police sent to our house (first time that’s happened), going to court… in the end, Good won, Evil lost, and Gingeroo is right where she belongs — with us.
It chewed up months of our lives. Our birthdays, our anniversary, everything got swallowed by The Battle For Gingeroo. But in the end, we found out we have a few really good, true friends who were willing to help us, we met an absolutely genius lawyer, and we reaffirmed that Good can triumph, if it’s willing to keep fighting and take good advice.
We finished our novel, and saw it getting favorited on Amazon’s new book program, so much so that it made the “hot list” several times — but then Amazon ended the program. Oops! Back to square one, so we’re shopping for an agent, while writing three new books. Meanwhile, the first novel has done well with beta readers and in live readings, in addition to the love it got during the Amazon program, and a great review. So we know there’s an audience and just have to keep plugging away.
During the process, we’re learning a lot about querying, social media, all the stuff that comes with being an author. We’ve been writers (magazines, newspapers, radio), but now we’re becoming a brand. Which feels odd. And requires learning lots of new skills, which is actually more fun than I thought it’d be.
We lost two of our friends at the same time, people who had never met but who both left our lives at almost the same moment. This is an experience I’ve had before — my mother and grandmother died 30 days apart — but is also one for which you can’t prepare. We’ve lost people slowly, and lost them quickly, and there is no “better” way. You’re never ready to lose someone you’re fond of. It still doesn’t seem quite real that both John and Kathleen are gone.
But we’re taking what they’ve taught us into the world. Kathleen was an enthusiastic, generous person. She loved to shop. I’m not much of a shopper, so I don’t have the skills a talented shopper has. Kathleen was great about sharing tips and tricks. I recently used some things she taught me to score something Mark and I wanted, on clearance, free shipping… Kathleen would have understood why I was trying to “high five” myself (for the record, I still haven’t found a way to do it that doesn’t feel lame).
John was a singer/songwriter, a musician and music producer. Music was his life, and he was really good at it. He was also funny, generous and kind. Even when illness was bringing him to his knees, he played benefit concerts. If he couldn’t play, he sang. Every holiday season, we would visit and join John and his wife (a lovely, fierce, wonderful lady who hadn’t planned to be a public person but fell in love with John, so I won’t put her name here) for dinner. Mark and John usually talked shop — music, audio, recording. They agreed about a lot, but had some things they didn’t agree on that became running gags.
His wife and I would catch up on family and friends, and just, y’know, chat, the way you do with a friend. Mark and I would get tickets for the benefit John was sure to be playing, and the shows were always great, but the best memories are of the four of us around a table, eating and talking.
One time, we went to Barton G’s in Hollywood. It was hilarious. They brought out the food with props. Popcorn shrimp in a big popcorn machine. Sushi with a sword stuck into the platter. The best were the desserts. John and his wife ordered an ice cream sundae that came in a pirate’s treasure chest (a big one), surrounded by edible gold nuggets, graham cracker crumb “sand.” John looked at the shovel sticking out of the sundae, started laughing, and said, “Do we eat the shovel? I can’t tell what’s food and what isn’t!”
Our dessert had a cotton candy bouffant hairdo on a wig head, with candy stuck all over it. The four of us found ourselves acting like sharks, nibbling random things just to see if they were edible.
Before we left, they invited us over and we met the sister of John’s wife, who was charming. John played tracks of songs he was working on and told scandalous stories, and we all just relaxed.
Thinking about all of this has me more than usually aware that I need to be fully present when I’m with a friend. Not distracted by things I want to get done, or things I think I should be doing. Someone once said, “If you ain’t where you is, you ain’t nowhere.” I’m going to try to be where I am in the new year.
I hope wherever you are, your “where” is good to you. Happy New Year!