As expected, the demands of Christmas have exacted their own demands on my sanity. I’m so dog-weary of all the “gimme, gimme” that I just want Christmas to hurry up and pass by. I won’t even wave at it in the rearview mirror. Good riddance.

It’s not all bad. I love our church activities, the children’s events, and the music this time of year. I’ve been called on to sing every single weekend since Thanksgiving. Normally, that would exhaust me. But, it’s exhilerating this time of year. Maybe I’ll even have hottie cartoon me sing a Christmas carol this weekend.

And, I really do LOVE giving people gifts - truly. I give gifts all year long just because I run across something I know a certain someone would love to have. Sometimes, it’s something on sale that somebody can’t afford otherwise or a hard to find item that I lucked into. In a strange, twisted sort of way, giving gifts is actually more about me than the person getting it. It just feels good.

But it’s a nightmare this time of year to hear parents yelling at kids in public, to hear “me, me, me, gimme, gimme, gimme” all the time, and to see people blowing money on worthless crap that will wind up in the trash only to then see those same people pass by the Salvation Army bucket without dropping a dime.

Why does anyone need a $10 roll of wrapping paper or a trout that sings Jingle Bells?

Don’t get me wrong. I like fun. There’s nothing wrong with fun. In fact, I’m still waiting on that Scooby Doo Chia pet. Hello? Family? I circled it in red sharpie on photocopies of the newspaper inserts that I left beside all your purses and wallets. Pharmacy. Walmart. Target. What do you want, the money, too?

One of my sisters is getting Longhorn pajamas. She loves UT and needs pajamas. Perfect. And, fun. Another sister is getting a blingy pirate skull scarf. She loves pirates and bling. Also perfect. Also fun. But there’s a vast difference between buying a fun gift that somebody will enjoy and buying disposable crap because you’d rather waste money than make an emotional investment in a gift that requires thought and effort.

Here’s the point: please, if you don’t know what to give somebody or find yourself with the urge to buy a singing trout out of last minute desperation, why not make a donation to a charity in the name of that friend or loved one? Then, be honest with them. Tell them you wanted to get them something special but were clean out of ideas so you made a gift to the Komen Center for Breast Cancer Research because you remembered that their sister has breast cancer, to the American Heart Association because their father had a recent heart attack, or to Children’s Medical Center because their baby nephew died of SIDS last year.

Okay, so maybe these aren’t glamorous ideas that will bring shrieks of joy, but it’s how I cope with the waste I witness and the growing me-ism selfishness that appears to mushrooming with each new generation.

SO, HERE’S MY CHRISTMAS GIFT TO YOU–

Blogosphere friends, I don’t know most of you but you’ve all taught me a thing or two this year so tell me your favorite charity and I’ll make a contribution in your name. Seriously. I really will. Well, unless I don’t KNOW your name (unk and mystery man!) in which case, I’ll make it in my name and you’ll just have to trust me.

So, give me the name of your charity (and an address or phone # if it’s one I probably haven’t heard of). Give it to me now. Gimme, gimme, gimme. Yeah, it’s still all about me.

So far, in my season of rewrites, we’ve looked at contrived conflict and problems with sidekicks. But instead of relying solely on myself and a few screenwriting pals to figure out problem areas in my work, I’ve also decided to take a look at my screenplay through the eyes of a closer.

Creative Screenwriting had an article about screenwriting top guns who rewrite green lit scripts that need to be tweaked. Closers basically ride in on white horses, identify problems, clean up, and then ride out with big fat checks in their boots. Don Roos is the Wyatt Earp of closers so who better to tap into for rewrite points?

Careful to never use the term “script doctor”, Don Roos told CS that the diagnoses are always the same:

* dialogue which doesn’t sound overheard
* characters who aren’t specific - seem taken from other films
* main characters without edges - uncomplicated & too likeable
* absence of specificity & texture to scenes, characters and dialogue

Good list.

So the first three are pretty much no brainers and while we amateurs are guilty of overlooking these kinds of flaws, I’m somewhat surprised that professionals don’t grind their teeth to the roots when they read forced dialogue.

Still, this is my list as I review my Nicholl Fellowship entry for the umpteenth time but I wish Roos had elaborated a little on the fourth one. The specificity part I understand. It’s the absence of texture to scenes and characters and dialogue that has me scratching my head. I’ve read a lot of guru books but for some reason this term, texture, isn’t making a screenwriting love connection in my cerebellum.

A little help?

Ah yes, the end of the era of scurvy and scallawags is upon us. Shame too. I’ve become quite the saucy wench, cowardly swab, or salty dog. Maybe all three. The point is that At World’s End is due out Memorial weekend next year and I can hardly wait. But after waiting three years for the second film, five months will surely pass like a leeward breeze.

At Worlds End will not only be the conclusion of the Sparrow chronicles, but the film title says it all. It’s the end of an era. The first films tell us that the Black Pearl is the last real pirate threat in the Caribbean and Jack Sparrow is a dying breed. Thrilling, yet sad, because after these titanic films, it seems unlikely that anyone will ever make another film adventure on the high seas, at least not in my lifetime, and the spec piles are probably flooded with badly written and soon to be extinct pirate lore.

For me, dramas seem to be a good fit, but I, too, have a nifty little adventure to rewrite. I’ve put it off for three years because , well, I can hear the pitchfest now —

What’s your screenplay about, Miss Batchellor?

Oh, it’s a marvelous tale about the extinction of the Arawaks in the Caribbean, ships, pirates, 18th Century medicine, a 2,000 year old sea hag, and the fountain of youth.

Ships and pirates, you say? NEXT!

Yeah, think we’ll just let that dog lie lest they hang me from a yardarm or make me do a hempen jig. At least I never wrote anything about hobbits.