Words for My Enjoyment

Today’s Behind-The-Scenes Look At How A Screenwriter Brushes His Teeth

July 5th, 2006

I’ve received dozens of e-mails (nay, hundreds) requesting this post.

There was Bill F. from Boise, ID who asked, “Since I’m not a screenwriter I don’t really have the answer to this, but I wondered if you could tell your readers how you brush your teeth?” There was Barbara P. from New Haven, CT who said, “I bet you have a process when you brush your teeth, being a screenwriter and all. I would love to know what that is!” And who could forget Garth O. from Santa Fe, NM who wrote, “I love your writing. I suspect I’ll love your tooth-brushing process as well…if you’d only let me know exactly what that is!”

Yes, my friends — today is your lucky day.

Since people rarely talk about what goes on behind closed bathroom doors, people rarely realize that everyone has their own process in doing a variety of bathroom-related activities. Among those, there is more variety in the brushing-of-the-teeth than any other process. Being a screenwriter, I must tell you that the way I brush my teeth is completely affected by the fact that I am a writer. And that I write for the screen. Thus making me a screenwriter.

There are many screenwriting blogs out there that talk about how to format a screenplay, how to write a screenplay, how to sell your screenplay and how to hate people who don’t like your screenplays…but has there ever been a screenwriting blog that has pulled back the curtain on how to brush your teeth like a screenwriter?

I think not.

That’s why I’m especially excited and proud for today’s entry in which I give you a behind-the-scenes look at how a screenwriter (LIKE ME!) brushes his or her teeth.

And so, without further adieu, I would like to present to you my step by step “How-To” guide in brushing the teeth of a screenwriter. If possible, please put in the soundtrack CD to Legends of the Fall and begin on track number 3 as you read the following portion of the post. That’s the music I created this behind-the-scenes guide to, and that’s how I would prefer people read this entry. I’m pretty adamant on that fact, but since I’m a screenwriter and we all usually get screwed after we write something anyway, just go ahead and do what most people do — ignore our wishes.

1. Turn on the CD, Legends of the Fall soundtrack, track #3.
2. The scene is set. I am determined. Teeth must be brushed. But the complications are already arising — how the hell am I going to do it with all these impasses? There must be a way.
3. Do a drop, tuck and roll across the cold bathroom floor to make sure anyone hiding behind the two-way mirror, who happens to be wielding a gun won’t be able to take me out while I’m going for “the object” in the medicine cabinet.
4. Cautiously & carefully use the plunger (that happened to be on the floor) to flip open the medicine cabinet from afar just in case it’s been laced with explosive devices or poison-dispatching technologies.
5. When the coast is clear, retrieve object AX-1220 (a.k.a. the toothbrush) from the cabinet.
6. Pull object down to face, while still crouched on the floor, observing it with reckless abandon. A short sniff will determine if the object needs moisture or if it can be used again without sacrificing the lives of thousands.
7. H20 time. But we all know what evil-doers do with water. They can poison the entire water supply without anyone ever getting wind of it. That’s why I use bottled water to brush my teeth. Dasani to be exact. A careful splattering of the water onto the brush will prepare the brush for the acceptance of the youth-cream (a.k.a. toothpaste).
8. Stand up. Acknowledge the figure in the mirror. Man, he’s got a rugged look to him. Five o’ clock shadow, mussed up hair (but attractively styled), a look of disdain that’s taken years to develop. If he had a future it would be the kind of future he’d wish he could give to someone else in one of those white elephant party events. But alas, that face and that future is all his. And so is the toothpaste. Which is generously slathered upon object AX-1220.
9. The brushing begins. (We’re on track #4 on the Legends of the Fall soundtrack, now - FYI.) A pose must be struck as each quadrant of the teeth are hit. Quadrant #1 (top left) accompanies the “gazing into the distance as if one just climbed to the top of Mount Everest and was looking out at the curvature of the Earth” look. Quadrant #2 (top right) accompanies the “I just slipped a mickey into your drink and you don’t even know it” grin. Quadrant #3 (bottom left) accompanies the “just because you’re a clone of me doesn’t mean I won’t shoot you” grimace. And Quadrant #4 (bottom right) accompanies the “I think I love you but I’m not sure we were really meant for each other” tear of confusion look.
10. The climax of the brushing, when it just seems as though there may not be enough toothpaste left to finish the job. That we may come within inches of finishing and then fail miserably! That an incomplete job is like an incomplete life and if you can’t live a life then what good are you!? I mean, really. WHAT GOOD ARE YOU!?
11. The toothpaste lasts long enough to finish the job. This is the resolution portion of the brushing. I’ve come a long way, baby, but now I’m here. Clean teeth. I swoosh in a big gulp of air, feeling it rush between my pearly whites. It’s refreshing. Freeing. I’ve never felt this way before. You might even say, between the moment I started and the moment I finished I was transformed into a whole new man.
12. I put away the toothbrush, put away the toothpaste and leave the Legends of the Fall soundtrack CD playing. After all, I still haven’t gone to the bathroom.

Posted under Behind-The-Scenes, Hygiene, Screenwriting. |