Today (Monday the 10th) is a HUGE day for my friends, Al Klingenstein and David Viola, at Filbert Steps Productions. Their new movie, TRUMBO, premieres at the Toronto Film Festival. I am very excited for them. In fact, I’m not even in Toronto with them, and I have butterfiles in my stomach on their behalf!

The pic’s a documentary on screenwriting legend and Hollywood Ten Mccarthy-era stand-up-and-do-the-right-thinger Dalton Trumbo, based on the popular off-Broadway play by the same title. They got involved with the project right after RUNAWAY won at Austin, and it has been quite the ride for them (but well worth it, they tell me). Even better, it sounds like it’s all gonna pay off, as the tea leaves are reading well for TRUMBO. There is already considerable interest from distributors, and it’s already getting, like, Oscar buzz.

Whoa.

So…if you suddenly find yourself in the greater Toronto area, run, don’t walk, to the Varisity Theatre, screen 8 (which, oddly enough, is where RUNAWAY premiered in Toronto…heh). I think you’ll be glad you did, eh?

Here’s the info for TRUMBO at the Toronto International Film Festival.

Good luck, Al and David. I’m really proud of you guys. I know you made a good movie. And I think you did a great thing by bringing this story to the movie-going public.

Well…almost.

iTunes kept me company yesterday as I worked away at my little keyboard. At some point in the afternoon, one song rose above the din. Something I hadn’t heard in a few years.

It was a song called Looking Out a Window, which was written and performed by indie music hero Jason Morphew (of Holding Merle Haggard fame, not to mention my personal favorite, The Duke of Arkansas). The song was one of many composed by Morphew for Runaway, but never used. He was, in fact, hired to score the entire picture at some point.

I was pretty excited when I heard Morphew had signed on. I’d been something of a fan since I’d heard Haggard years before. Arkansas had come out the year before, and I had the CD for awhile. But a pal of mine borrowed it, and it evaporated into the ether.

The songs he created for the movie were, I thought, inspired. Some of them, like Looking Out a Window, were downright great. And the first rough cut of the movie featured Bull in the China Shop of Love (one of the sweetest tracks off Arkansas), which elicited a gleeful belly laugh from me as I sat with producer Bob Gosse in his Pasadena pad and watched the first rough cut of the movie.

After production wrapped, and I stepped away from the Runaway day-to-day, something obviously happened. Suddenly, Morphew’s music was gone. Whaaa-? I had expected more music, not less. I talked to Al Klingenstein, the head of Filbert Steps, and he told me that Morphew was off the project. Something had transpired, it seems, between Morphew and the director. I don’t know. There are several accounts. Look ’em up on the Internet.

The bottom line for me is that, though I love Robert Miller’s haunting score, the movie misses Morphew’s obvious talent and insight. Misses his imprint on it.

But back to yesterday.

I’m listening to the song, and “I wonder whatever happened to Jason Morphew?” pops into my head. Power of the Information Superhighway later, I discover this:

What is this, you ask?

It’s most of the songs I was talking about. The Runaway songs. And, apparently, a lot of the instrumental music he created for the movie.

At first I was shocked. I won’t lie to you; I was knocked off center for a bit. But when I came to, I was flattered and honored. Although Morphew is (and I can’t blame him) not exactly a huge fan of the movie, the script resonated with him at least enough to inspire some this really cool music.

How do I know? For one, he talks about it in various commentary he’s given about his Runaway experience. For another, we’ve exchanged a number of emails over the past 24 hours discussing it.

So…cool. I also got to chat with him a bit and let him know I’m a fan. How often do you get a chance to do that over the pretense of discussing how something you’ve written inspired an artist whom you have great respect for? Not damn often enough, I say.

Anyway, so there ya go. As I told him, he deserved to do something with this music, which he obviously put so much heart and effort and time into. And I am excited to maybe have played a bit part in that.

There’s even a picture of some sort (I haven’t seen it because I downloaded the music on iTunes) of a page of the script on the CD tray label.

Way cool.

btw — you can get your very own copy of Sunday Afternoon here.

Funny. Every time I think I am going to do something one way in life, I end up doing it another way completely. Case in point: this post.

I know I know I know…How many times in LIFE can I apologize for the absence of TRUE LIFE? Turns out the answer is roughly equivalent to the age-old question, “How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop?” Maybe I should take the wise, old owl’s advice and just crunch down on the damned thing once and for all. Cut it off–force an answer. Obliterate the question.

Yet, in order to do that, two things would seem requisite. First, I would need to eliminate my seemingly constant need to apologize for virtually every step I take in LIFE. The second would be to that I would need to actually post consistently in this blog.

Okay…but back to the unexpected unfolding of things. If you’ve heard this before (you have…don’t worry), please try to keep your eyes from rolling. I know, it’s hard. But I think about this blog every day, and I am constantly planning to write something in it. There are things every day that I think about sharing with you, TRUE LIFERS. I have no dearth of prospective content.

Yet…when’s the last time you saw a new post here? Exactly…

What happens–and yes…you’ve heard this one before, too. Just nod and smile and sing along. Everybody, now! What happens is somehow the things I want to say get too big in my head, and I freeze up. My fingers stiffen at the keyboard, paralyzed that I am going to be there forever trying to craft my tangled web of thoughts into some cohesive and coherent message.

“Umm…okay, Bill. But…aren’t you a writer? Isn’t that what you do?”

Yeah, yeah. Shut up. I get it.

I never claimed to be a good writer. Nor a prolific one. I merely claimed that when the rubber hits the road, I can sit in front of my little iBook and peck away with the best of ’em. Getting to the actual pecking, however, has always been somewhat tricky for me.

And I know why. It’s not a new realization. I am beginning to think that the repetition of this theme in my LIFE (an obvious allusion that I see connectivity to more aspects of my existence than just the writing one) is necessary to my owning the realization. “Hello! Realization knocking! Is anyone in there?” How many times does it need to knock before I answer? One day, I will take the wise old owl’s advice.

For now, I must be satisfied to identify the realization. Recognize it’s voice, its distinctively incessant knocking. Close my eyes and put shape around it.

What it looks like, which is this: I make things bigger than they really are, bigger than they need to be. And when I do that, they look bigger than me. And when they are bigger than me, I get scared. I wish I could say that in spite of getting scared I step forward and knock that big, old thing down–my David to its Goliath. I mean…sometimes I do. But more often than not–especially in the writing department–I drop my sling, turn tail, and scream off as fast as my little legs will take me. I leave Goliath there, shrugging, scratching his head as he watches the trail of dust kicked up by the beat of my footfalls.

Of course, I could solve this problem. I know a solution is there for me. And that, TRUE LIFERS, is part of the realization that provides a modicum of comfort. Because I know that there’s a way to win against old Goliath. I know that there’s a way past it, if I am willing to stand my ground.

And, of course, if I simply make things not so big in my head.

So…this morning. I am lying in a Super 8 Motel in Warroad, MN. You don’t know this, and shame on me for not sharing the good news. I am here–a mere hop, skip, and a jump from the Canadian border–for the best reasons. You may think “Where the hell is Warroad?” But the folks here are thinking, “We’re Hockeytown, USA!” And I am here on a scouting trip with the director of my new movie–yes, a movie I am getting paid to write!

Yes, TRUE LIFERS, I am working on another movie. More on that later.

For now, the day–not to mention Hockeytown, USA–is calling.