Pagmulaendaka iti kamotit?

[mannurat]

Manipud daytoy iti daan a blogko (imblagko idi Agosto 19, 2005). Patiek a napintas met daytoy a mapagsarsaritaantay' ita ditoy dap-ayantayo mainaig iti kritisismo, iti pannakaworksiap wenno pannakapaliiw wenno pannakaparparti ti maysa a sinuratan wenno manuskrito a maidatag. Uray maipapan daytoy, actually, iti panagedit wenno iti rikut ken rigat ti maysa nga editor a maipasungalngal a mangawat ken mangaklon kadagiti manuskrito manipud kadagiti damona wenno uray nabayagen nga agsursurat ket awan sa met latta ti pagnaan ti adu a seminar, adu a worksiap, adu a kur-it, adu a kayas, adu a ritubar. Ti maysa nga editor ket maysa met laeng a kritiko, ti inna panagdillaw wenno panangiwayat iti kritisismona, aramidenna in action iti manuskrito, aturenna, urnosenna, ritubarenna, dalusanna, paannayasenna. Iti bukodna a wagas ken panglakagan a panangatur wenno panangurnos. Kritiko met laeng ti maysa nga editor a no awanen a talaga ti namnamana ti maysa a sinuratan, awanan asi nga inna ipisok iti pagbasuraan. Wenno no adda man asina pay bassit, markaanna iti "X" ti manuskrito sana isubli iti autor (no adda, a, SASE nga impakuyog ti autor). Wenno no manangngaasi man, pakuyoganna iti bassit a nota ti isublina a manuskrito ket sadiay, ibatadna dagiti biddut wenno nagkamtudan ti autor. Saan nga asi-asi ti kinaeditor ken panageditor. No dadduma, awan asi-asi ditan aglalo no mapennekna nga agbambannog wenno agsaysayang laeng iti panawen ti autor. Kunanan no kua, kas kuna no kua ti  sumagmamano a panelists iti dadduma a literary workshops: "Inka laengen agmula iti kamote, nasaysayaat pay!" Ken ni Apo Juan S.P. Hidalgo, Jr., kas mabasa iti sumaganad a kolumna, saan la a kamote ti inna ipamula ngem pati karabasa wenno mais!

***

awan maisip a mayat a maiblag ita. daytoy man pay lang, ipabasak kadakayo ti inlanad ni apo juan s.p. hidalgo jr., iti kolumna idi iti bannawag a pugon. naipablaak daytoy iti febrero 12, 1968 a bilang ti bannawag (hmm, diak pay naipasngay idi, a). maipapan kadagiti mannurat, kangrunaan dagiti agdadamo; iti panagsurat, kangrunaan iti no kasano ti talaga nga agsurat ken no ania, aya, ti isurat.

ipanko daytoy ita ta idi man 1960s agpapan ita, kasla awan namalbaliwan wenno pamalbaliwan ti literatura iloko mainaig kadagiti mannuratna. isu latta dagiti parikut nangruna kadagiti agdadamo, iti panagsuratan, iti panagedit dagiti appo nga editor dagiti pagipabpablaakantay' a magmagasin.

bareng adda maitedna kadatayo a napateg a tip ken palagip, kadatayo amin a mannurat, bangolan man a kunada, beterano man a maawagan, premiado man a sasawenda, wenno agdadamo man a masasao, kattungbol man a mainagnaganan, mannurat man wenno mannurot lang. kaimportantean siguro a palagip ken tip ket daydiay kaudian a parapo ni apo hidalgo jr.

ala, ket, basaentay', a, adtoy man:

Saan nga agsarday ti panagsangpet dagiti sarita iti BANNAWAG. Kaaduanna ti aggapu kadagiti agdadamo a mannurat. Ngem iti duapulo a sarita, nagasaten no adda maysa a maagsaw a mabalin nga ipablaak. Adu ti gapuna a saan a mabalin nga ipablaak dagiti gapuananda. Nakapsut a balabala, sinantatao dagiti agbibiag, awan ti rinnisiris, makapasuyaab ti taldiap-napalabas, saan a nasayaat ti pannakarisut ti parikut, awan masnop a turongen dagiti pasamak, bassit ti ammo ti mannurat iti banag a sursuratenna, saanna nga ammo ti agsurat iti nasayud nga Iluko, ken dadduma pay. Nabatad nga agkurang iti ammo maipapan iti panagsurat iti sarita ti nangipaw-it iti manuskrito nga inawaganna iti sarita.

Tapno maliklikan ti masapa a pannakapaay dagitoy agdadamo a mannurat, insingasingmi nga agbasada kadagiti nailibro a sarita dagiti malalaki iti tay-ak ti literatura. Adalenda a naimbag dagita nailibro a sarita ken aramatenda a modelo kadagiti suratenda. Patienmi a no kakasta a sarita ti basaenda, imposible a di ngumato ti kalidad dagiti suratenda.

Bassit ti namnamami nga adda masarakan a libro maipapan iti panagsurat iti sarita kadagiti biblioteka ti munisipio. Ngem dakkel ti namnamami nga adda latta masarakan ni agdadamo a mannurat a kasta a libro iti biblioteka ti pagadalanda. Adu a mannurat iti probinsia ti nagsurat kadakami nga awan ti masarakanda a nailibro a sarita ken libro maipapan iti panagsurat iti sarita (mairaman metten ti libro maipapan iti panagsurat iti salaysay, daniw, nobela, drama, kritika, damdamag).

Ala, no talaga nga awan, saan latta a naupay ti BANNAWAG a nangipamuspusan iti panangtulongna ken ni mannurat tapno agbalin a naan-anay a mannurat ken pakairanudan ti talentona nga agsurat. Tulonganna dagiti mannurat iti kada ili ken probinsia a mangbangon kadagiti gungloda. Patienna a babaen ti panagaammo ken panagsisinninged dagiti mannurat nga agkakailian ken agkakaprobinsiaan, makapagiinnadalda iti panagsurat. Saan la a dayta, naangay pay dagiti seminar a nakaawisan dagiti mabigbig a mannurat a nangbalakad kadagiti padada a mannurat maipapan iti nadumaduma a benneg ti panagsurat.

Ania ti napasamak? Nabuntog ti panagadal dagiti mannurat. Iti BANNAWAG, saan nga agsarday ti panagsangpet dagiti manuskrito. Madlaw a dagus a kasla bassit-usit ti pagnaan dagiti panagtataripnong ken pammalakad dagiti mabigbig a mannurat no basaem dagiti agsangpet a manuskrito. Nalabit a saan a nasamay ti panaglekteur dagiti naawis a mannurat wenno saan a malagip dagiti nakitaripnong ti nasao kadakuada idi suratendan ti impaw-itda iti BANNAWAG.

Pudno a mapukaw ti essem ti editor nga agbasa iti sarita no kalpasan ti duapulo a manuskrito a basaenna ta awan man laeng ti uray maysa a mapilina. Agasem ngamin ti tuokna bayat ti panangarado dagiti matana iti 13 a panid ti kada sarita a basaenna; ti 30 a minuto a panangbasana a naimbag iti kada sarita; ti maupay a seggana a mangduktal iti "anag ti biag" a namnamaenna nga ipaay ti mannurat agingga iti maudi a panid ti manuskrito! Saan laeng nga agkamata, agarrap ken mabutbotan ti ulo ti editor nga agbasa kadagiti kawaw a sarita; aguban pay a dina oras!

Ngem, ala, saan pay laeng a napaay ti namnama dagiti dadduma a mannurat a matulongan dagiti padada a mannurat tapno agbalinda met a naan-anay a mannurat. Kalpasan ti uppat a bulan a pannakabangon ti GUMIL Pangasinan, nangbangonda iti maysa a pagiwarnak nga agpaay kadagiti amin a mannurat nga Ilokano. GUMIL Filipinas ti nagan daytoy binulan a pagiwarnak. Dagiti mannurat met laeng ti mangigastos iti pannakaimalditna. Rimmuaren ti umuna a bilang iti Nobyembre. Naibusen. Rimmuar manen ti maikadua a bilang iti Disyembre. Naiwaragawag iti magasin ken suplemento ti BANNAWAG ti iruruar ti maikadua a bilang ngem mano dagiti nangipaw-it iti selio a pangibuson iti kopia nga agpaay kadakuada? LIBRE daytoy a GUMIL Filipinas. Ania pay ti sapulen ni mannurat?

Kurang ti ammo ni mannurat maipapan iti panagsurat iti sarita. Rinugian ngarud ti GUMIL Filipinas nga ipablaak iti maikadua a bilangna ti umuna a paset ti MAKASURATKA MET ITI SARITA a sinurat ni Apo Angel Anden iti BANNAWAG idi kanikapito a tawen. Iti maikatlo a bilang ti GUMIL Filipinas, rugianna nga ipablaak ti MAKASURATKA MET ITI SALAYSAY, impablaak met laeng ti BANNAWAG idi kanikanem a taWen. Kurang ni mannurat iti "background" iti literatura, rinugian ngarud ti GUMIL Filipinas nga ipablaak ti salaysay ni Dr. Marcelino Foronda maipapan iti ababa a pakasaritaan ti Literatura Ilokana, ti salaYsay ni Propesor Leopoldo Y. Yabes maipapan iti Akem ni Mannurat a Pilipino iti Filipinas.

Gapu ta saan nga ikaskaso ni mannurat ti umno a pannakaisurat dagiti balikas nga aramatenna, impablaak ti GUMIL Filipinas dagiti artikulo da Virgilio Vives (ti umno a pannakaaramat ti NGA ken A, TI ken ITI ken dadduma pay a bambanag maipapan iti Ortograpia Ilokana), ken Atty. Lacuesta (maipapan iti makunkuna a Lengguahe Nasional).

Adunto pay ti ipablaak ti GUMIL Filipinas a makatulong ken ni mannurat. Kas iti makasuratka met iti daniw, nobela, damdamag, drama, kritika literatura, biograpia ken dadduma pay.

Adda pay kopia ti maikadua a bilang ti GUMIL Filipinas. Ulitenmi: LIBRE daytoy a pagiwarnak ket awan ti aramiden ti mannurat no di ti panangipaw-itna iti selio a pangibuson iti kopiana. Iturongyo ti suratyo iti: Editor, GUMIL Filipinas, 1655 Soler, Manila.

No awan ti magatangyo a libro iti iliyo, no awan ti libro a mabulodyo iti biblioteka ti eskuela ken munisipioyo, no awan ti gungloyo a mannurat iti ili ken probinsiayo, no awan latta ti mabalinyo a pagadalan nga agsurat malaksid ti panagbasayo iti aglinawas a BANNAWAG, ken no diyo kayat ti maaddaan iti kopia ti GUMIL Filipinas, nasaysayaat laengen no inkay agmula iti kamote wenno karabasa wenno mais ngem ti panangar-arapaapyo nga agbalin a mannurat. Bambannog ken sasauryo no suratkay a surat a diyo met ammo no husto wenno saan ti ar-aramidenyo.

[billit]

naimas mamet ti kamotig lalo no tay bags na nga dengdeng nga buridubud laokam ti bulong marunggay wenno uggot met la ti kamotig! apay gamin nga tagi-daksen da no ibaga nga inka agmulat kamotig?

[mannurat]

Kas nayon a mapatutungtungan, ibingayko man daytoy imparangkap ni Apo Joe Padre.

Makuna wenno reaksionna daytoy iti impostek iti maipapan iti "panagpamula iti kamote." Napintas ti imparangna a paspaset ti maysa a libro iti panagsuratan.

Kastoy man ti nakuna ni Apo Joe:

After reading your mannurat.com blog posted 8/19/2005 re "panagsurat, panagedit, panagsuraten, panagmulat' kamote", I thought the following excerpt (Introduction & Chapter 1) from Robert McKee's "Story" is relevant.

A must-read for screenwriters and would-be screenwriters, "Story" by Robert McKee touches on universal themes for the storyteller or storywriter in general.  I recommend it, along with "The Complete Handbook of Novel Writing" (textbook for a journalism course at UCLA) by Meg Leder, Jack Heffron, and the Editors of Writer’s Digest, to our writers and aspiring writers. Of course, a clear advantage now for those who have the knack for storytelling--those who write and wish to polish their craft and those who aspire to write--is their access to, and intelligent use of, the vast resources available on the Internet.  If all else fails, planting camote is a much simpler, more productive endeavor, indeed!)

Kinapudnona, gapuna nga insingasingco dagiti pamanunotan ni Robert McKee iti "Story" (www.mckeestory.com) cas maysa a reference para cadagiti mannurattayo ken dagiti aspiring writers tayo isu daytoy sumaganad a blog postingmo:

"agpayso man, agtitinnulongtayo a mangsungbat ken mangtungpal kadagita a balakad ni apo johnny a 37 a tawenen ti napalabas ngem agingga ita ket isu pay la a parikut ken pakasikorantayo iti literatura iloko..."

Mabalin, cunaen dagiti dadduma a mannurat a nairanta ti "Story" ni Mckee para cadagiti screenwriters or those involved in the film industry.  But then if you consider that when a story is carefully crafted along the "show me, don't tell" paradigm, it usually has a better chance of engaging the reader--which, to say the least, is one of the objectives of the writer. Screenwriters and filmmakers have a duty to weave images to tell a cogent story.  So do our writers/aspiring writers--they have a responsibility to create and weave images through the power of words to "tell" a story.  Hence, the suggestion to our aspiring writers to read about the universal themes on story writing showcased in McKee's book.

Adtoy met ti intedna a texto ti nasao a libro:

INTRODUCTION

"Story" is about principles, not rules.

A rule says, “You must do it this way.”  A principle says, “This works . . . and has through all remembered time.”  The
difference is crucial.  Your work needn’t be modeled after the “well-made” play; rather, it must be well made within the principles that shape our art. Anxious, inexperienced writers obey rules. Rebellious, unschooled writers break rules. Artists master the form.

"Story" is about eternal, universal forms, not formulas.

All notions of paradigms and foolproof story models for commercial success are nonsense.  Despite trends, remakes, and sequels, when we survey the totality of Hollywood film, we find an astounding variety of story designs, but no prototype.  DIE HARD is no more typical of Hollywood than are PARENTHOOD, POSTCARDS FROM THE EDGE, THE LION KING, THIS IS SPINAL TAP, REVERSAL OF FORTUNE, DANGEROUS LIAISONS, GROUNDHOG DAY, LEAVING LAS VEGAS, or thousands of other excellent films in dozens of genres and subgenres from farce to tragedy.

"Story" urges the creation of works that will excite audiences on the six continents and live in revival for decades.  No one needs yet another recipe book on how to reheat Hollywood leftovers.  We need a rediscovery of the underlying tenets of our art, the guiding principles that liberate talent.  No matter where a film is made—Hollywood, Paris, Hong Kong—if it’s of archetypal quality, it triggers a global and perpetual chain reaction of pleasure that carries it from cinema to cinema, generation to generation.


"Story" is about archetypes, not stereotypes.

The archetypal story unearths a universally human experience, then wraps itself inside a unique, culture-specific expression.  A stereotypical story reverses this pattern:  It suffers a poverty of both content and form.  It confines itself to a arrow, culture-specific experience and dresses in stale, nonspecific generalities.

For example, Spanish custom once dictated that daughters must be married off in order from oldest to youngest.  Inside Spanish culture, a film about the nineteenth-century family of a strict patriarch, a powerless mother, an unmarriageable oldest daughter, and a long-suffering youngest daughter may move those who remember this practice, but outside Spanish culture audiences are unlikely to empathize.  The writer, fearing his story’s limited appeal, resorts to the familiar settings, characters, and actions that have pleased audiences in the past.  The result?  The world is even less interested in these clichés.

On the other hand, this repressive custom could become material for a worldwide success if the artist were to roll up his sleeves and search for an archetype.  An archetypal story creates settings and characters so rare that our eyes feast on every detail, while its telling illuminates conflicts so true to humankind that it journeys from culture to culture.

In Laura Esquivel’s LIKE WATER FOR CHOCOLATE, mother and daughter clash over the demands of dependence versus independence, permanence versus change, self versus others—conflicts every family knows. Yet Esquivel’s observation of home and society, of relationship and behavior is so rich in never-before-seen detail, we’re drawn irresistibly to these characters and fascinated by a realm we’ve never known, nor could imagine.

Stereotypical stories stay at home, archetypal stories travel.  From Charlie Chaplin to Ingmar Bergman, from Satyajit Ray to Woody Allen, the cinema’s master storytellers give us the double-edged encounter we crave.  First, the discovery of a world we do not know.  No matter how intimate or epic, contemporary or historical, concrete or fantasized, the world of an eminent artist always strikes us as somewhat exotic or strange.  Like an explorer parting forest leaves, we step wide-eyed into an untouched society, a cliché-free zone where the ordinary becomes extraordinary.

Second, once inside this alien world, we find ourselves.  Deep within these characters and their conflicts we discover our own humanity.  We go to the movies to enter a new, fascinating world, to inhabit vicariously another human being who at first seems so unlike us and yet at heart is like us, to live in a fictional reality that illuminates our daily reality. We do not wish to escape life but to find life, to use our minds in fresh, experimental ways, to flex our emotions, to enjoy, to learn, to add depth to our days.  Story was written to foster films of archetypal power and beauty that will give the world this dual pleasure.


"Story" is about thoroughness, not shortcuts.

From inspiration to last draft you may need as much time to write a screenplay as to write a novel. Screen and prose writers create the same density of world, character, and story, but because screenplay pages have so much white on them, we’re often mislead into thinking that a screenplay is quicker and easier than a novel.  But while scribomaniacs fill pages as fast as they can type, film writers cut and cut again, ruthless in their desire to express the absolute maximum in the fewest possible words.  Pascal once wrote a long, drawn-out letter to a friend, then apologized in the postscript that he didn’t have time to write a short one.  Like Pascal, screen writers learn that economy is key, that brevity takes time, that excellence means perseverance.

"Story" is about the realities, not the mysteries of writing.

There’s been no conspiracy to keep secret the truths of our art.  In the twenty-three centuries since Aristotle wrote The Poetics, the “secrets” of story have been as public as the library down the street. Nothing in the craft of storytelling is abstruse.  In fact, at first glance telling story for the screen looks deceptively easy.  But moving closer and closer to the center, trying scene by scene to make the story work, the task becomes increasingly difficult, as we realize that on the screen there’s no place to hide.

If a screenwriter fails to move us with the purity of a dramatized scene, he cannot, like a novelist in authorial voice, or
the playwright in soliloquy, hide behind his words.  He cannot smooth a coating of explanatory or emotive language over cracks in logic, blotchy motivation, or colorless emotion and simply tell us what to think or how to feel.

The camera is the dread X-ray machine of all things false.  It magnifies life many times over, then strips naked every weak or phony story turn, until in confusion and frustration we’re tempted to quit.  Yet, given determination and study, the puzzle yields. Screenwriting is full of wonders but no unsolvable mysteries.


"Story" is about mastering the art, not second-guessing the marketplace.

No one can teach what will sell, what won’t, what will be a smash or a fiasco, because no one knows. Hollywood’s bombs are made with the same commercial calculation as its hits, whereas darkish dramas that read like a checklist of everything moneyed wisdom says you must never do—ORINDARY PEOPLE, THE ACCIDENTAL TOURIST, TRAINSPOTTING—quietly conquer the domestic and international box office.  Nothing in our art is guaranteed.  That’s why so many agonize over “breaking in,” “making it,”  and “creative interference.”

The honest, big-city answer to all these fears is that you’ll get an agent, sell your work, and see it realized faithfully on screen when you write with surpassing quality . . . and not until.  If you knock out a knockoff of last summer’s hit, you’ll join the ranks of lesser talents who each year flood Hollywood with thousands of cliché-ridden stories.  Rather than agonizing over the odds, put your energies into achieving excellence.  If you show a brilliant, original screenplay to agents, they’ll fight for the right to represent you.  The agent you hire will incite a bidding war among story-starved
producers, and the winner will pay you an embarrassing amount of money.

What’s more, once in production, your finished screenplay will meet with surprisingly little interference.  No one can
promise that unfortunate conjunctions of personalities won’t spoil good work, but be certain that Hollywood’s best acting and directing talents are acutely aware that their careers depend on working within quality writing.  Yet because of Hollywood’s ravenous appetite for story, scripts are often picked before they’re ripe, forcing changes on the set.  Secure writers don’t sell first drafts. They patiently rewrite until the script is as director-ready, as actor-ready as possible. Unfinished work invites tampering, while polished, mature work seals its integrity.

"Story" is about respect, not disdain, for the audience.

When talented people write badly it’s generally for one of two reasons:  Either they’re blinded by an idea they feel
compelled to prove or they’re driven by an emotion they must express.  When talented people write well, it is generally for this reason:  They’re moved by a desire to touch the audience.

Night after night, through years of performing and directing, I’ve stood in awe of the audience, of its capacity for
response.  As if by magic, masks fall away, faces become vulnerable, receptive.  Filmgoers do not defend their emotions, rather they open to the storyteller in ways even their lovers never know, welcoming laughter, tears, terror, rage, compassion, passion, love, hate—the ritual often exhausts them.

The audience is not only amazingly sensitive, but as it settles into a darkened theatre its collective IQ jumps twenty-five points.  When you go to the movies, don’t you often feel you’re more intelligent than what you’re watching?  That you know what characters are going to do before they do it?  That you see the ending coming long before it arrives?  The audience is not only smart, it’s smarter than most films, and that fact won’t change when you move to the other side of the screen.  It’s all a writer can do, using every bit of craft he’s mastered, to keep ahead of the sharp perceptions of a focused audience.

No film can be made to work without an understanding of the reactions and anticipations of the audience. You must shape your story in a way that both expresses your vision and satisfies the audience’s desires.  The audience is a force as determining of story design as any other element.  For without it, the creative act is pointless.


"Story" is about originality, not duplication.

Originality is the confluence of content and form—distinctive choices of subject plus a unique shaping of the telling.
Content (setting, characters, ideas) and form (selection and arrangements of events) require, inspire, and mutually influence one another. With content in one hand and a mastery of form in the other, a writer sculpts story.  As you rework a story’s substance, the telling reshapes itself.  As you play with a story’s shape, its intellectual and emotional spirit evolves.

A story is not only what you have to say but how you say it.  If content is cliché, the telling will be cliché.  But if your
vision is deep and original, your story design will be unique.  Conversely, if the telling is conventional and predictable, it will demand stereotypical roles to act out well-worn behaviors.  But if the story design is innovative, then settings, characters, and ideas must be equally fresh to fulfill it.  We shape the telling to fit the substance, rework the substance to support the design.

Never, however, mistake eccentricity for originality. Difference for the sake of difference is as empty as slavishly following commercial imperatives.  After working for months, perhaps years, to gather facts, memories, and imagination into a treasury of story material, no serious writer would cage his vision inside a formula, or trivialize it into avant-garde
fragmentations.  The “well-made” formula may choke a story’s voice, but “art movie” quirkiness will give it a speech impediment.  Just as children break things for fun or throw tantrums to force attention on themselves, too many filmmakers use infantile gimmicks on screen to shout, “Look what I can do!”  A mature artist never calls attention to himself, and a wise artist never does anything merely because it breaks convention.

Films by masters such as Horton Foote, Robert Altman, John Cassavetes, Preston Sturges, François Truffaut, and Ingmar Bergman are so idiosyncratic that a three-page synopsis identifies the artist as surely as his DNA.  Great screenwriters are distinguished by a personal storytelling style, a style that’s not only inseparable from their vision, but in a profound way is their vision.  Their formal choices—number of protagonists, rhythm of progressions, levels of conflict, temporal arrangements, and the like—play with and against substantive choices of content—setting, character, idea—until all elements meld into a unique screenplay.

If, however, we were to put the content of their films aside for the moment, and study the pure patterning of their events, we’d see that, like a melody without a lyric, like a silhouette without a matrix, their story designs are powerfully charged with meaning.  The storyteller’s selection and arrangements of events is his master metaphor for the interconnectedness of all the levels of reality—personal, political, environmental, spiritual.  Stripped of its surface of characterization and location, story structure reveals his personal cosmology, his insight into the deepest patterns and motivations for how and why things happen in this world—his map of life’s hidden order.

No matter who your heroes may be—Woody Allen, David Mamet, Quentin Tarantino, Ruth Prawer Jhabvala, Oliver Stone, William Goldman, Zhang Yimou, Nora Ephron,Spike Lee, Stanley Kubrick—you admire them because they’re unique.  Each has stepped out of the crowd because each selects a content like no one else, designs a form like on one else, combining the two into a style unmistakably his own.  I want the same for you.

But my hope for you goes beyond competence and skill. I’m starved for great films.  Over the last two decades I’ve seen good films and a few very good films, but rarely, rarely a film of staggering power and beauty.  Maybe it’s me; maybe I’m jaded. 

But I don’t think so.  Not yet.  I still believe that art transforms life.  But I know that if you can’t play all the instruments in the orchestra of story, no matter what music may be in your imagination, you’re condemned to hum the same old tune.  I’ve written Story to empower your command of the craft, to free you to express an original vision of life, to lift your talent beyond convention to create films of distinctive substance, structure, and style.

[mannurat]

Adda sumagmamano a kapuon a mulak ket a kamotit iti bassit a paraanganmi. Dadduma immulak pay iti masetera. Awan nalawa a mapagmulaan ngamin ta nakipet ti espasio ditoy subdibision. Sangsangkailgat ti lotena. Nalangto dagiti immulak a nagnatengak idi iti uggot ti kamotit. Kanayon a sibogak iti nagarasawan wenno nagkilnogan. Ken alep-epak iti nagimurian ti natnateng. Pagug-uggotak met idan. Naimas a kilnaten a bugguongan ken kamatisan, nagmayat a pammigat. Wenno ilaok iti inalseman a bangus wenno karne.