Just kidding, I’m not going to do that.
Really this is just a recommendation that you stay away from the Internet forever, abstain from procreating, and hell, just never even talk to anyone again. Find a cave to curl up and languish in far away from the productive members of society, because you are slowing shit the fuck down. Dealing with your culture of impotently manufactured faux-crusading has become a bore.
Go away forever. Thanks!
Your pal,
Geoff
I will make this as short and sweet as I can. Which, of course, means it will be protracted and sour. Lookit, I’m already going on and it’s just the first paragraph. I’m a monster.
Moving on – my pledge. This is something I take very seriously, and hope that many of you will agree to join me:
In my next spec script, my lead female character will be a woman of color.
That’s it, black and white. Or, to be cute, not nearly that binary 
Why am I promising this, you ask? Well thanks for querying, because I was going to tell you anyway! The reasoning is at least sixfold, and probably more, but in the interest of previously alluded-to brevity:
1) Because most characters written for the screen can be played by anyone of any color, with some obvious exceptions. But unless I’m writing a biopic or a true event in which the ethnicity of the characters is paramount to the story, those exceptions vanish. And my next spec script will require no such specificity.
2) Because, the more I do this, the more actors of color will flood the forefront of the reader’s brain. One might ask, “Well, if the ethnicity of the character doesn’t matter, why can’t she be white?” She totally can. I’m making the conscious decision not to write her that way. Why? BECAUSE it doesn’t matter, and because white actors have the lion’s share of opportunities as it is. And even if the best actor for the job ends up being Caucasian, I will have made people think about a non-Caucasian actor for the part, and if enough people read scripts like mine because enough writers write them, we’ll start to change the way of thinking when it comes to casting and marketing on a cellular level. And eventually, if enough writers make this choice consciously, they will begin to make it SUBconsciously, and someday down the road talented actors won’t lose out on parts because of their inescapable heritage.
3) Because women of color, on a pound-for-pound talent level, have not even remotely ascended to their deserved proportions in the entertainment industry. And this is the only facet of said industry I currently have any direct control over. So I’m going to exercise it.
4) Because I relish the chance to be diplomatically combative when someone asks me, “Is there a reason this character is (nonwhite ethnicity here)?”
“Nope. Is there any good reason she can’t be?”
5) Because I should. Because it will help, even if infinitesimally and incrementally at first. Because, if not the “right” thing to do, it’s leaning in that direction.
6) Because I fucking can.
See? It really is simple. And if you’re a writer – pro or aspiring, it doesn’t matter – I ask that you take up this pledge with me, however symbolic it ends up being. It’s not a big ask. Shit, it’s not even an effort. It’s a choice. And it’s one we can all be making to get the boulder off of Sisyphus’s back and finally rolling downhill.
It’s not charity. It’s not pity. It’s the basic human act of holding the door open for someone who has their arms full.
Hold the door open.
So listen…remember that time I taught you how to cook the perfect steak? Yeah, that WAS very nice of me. Well guess what? I’M FEELING NICE AGAIN, PLEBES. So today, I’m going to teach you how to make an oxtail stew that is better than pretty much anything else you could ever put in your mouth, including (and especially, really) me! So hop on into my culinary windowless van and let’s get started.
PREP
First, you’re going to need a lot of shit. Here’s a picture of all of it, plus a list of ingredients, plus some explanations. However, before all that, a forward: I am going to assume you know how to cut stuff, and I assume you’ll be OK if I don’t always give you exact measurements. Because I’m not going to do that. I don’t really measure things anymore. But we’ll get through this with pictures. I promise.
So here’s what we’re rolling with:
–Oxtail – You’re going to want to get this from a good butcher. You CAN get it at most grocery stores, though you might have to truck to a local independent market to find it. The thing is this: if you don’t go to the butcher, you’re going to get prison raped on the price. It will be pre-butchered and cost you anywhere from $5.99/lb to $9.99/lb depending on how much of a pirate your local grocer is. But if you go to the butcher and buy it whole, it’ll be cheaper. I bought these from Marconda’s at the Grove Farmer’s market, and because I bought it frozen and whole, I got it for $4.99/lb. That’s awesome (it was regularly $7.99). In a little bit I’ll explain how to butcher it – it’s CRAZY easy. Anyway, for this stew, I bought two whole oxtails. but you only need one to feed you and a couple other people and still have some leftovers.
–Carrots – Any kind will do. If you use baby carrots, about half a bag will be fine. If you get regular carrots, make sure you peel them (don’t be a fucking idiot) and cut them into bite-sized chunks. Four medium-sized carrots should suffice. If you like more carrots, use more. If you don’t like them as much, use fewer. See how simple this is?
–Celery – Buy a stalk whole and use about half of it. Again, cut them into bite-sized pieces.
–Onion – So ideally here, I use shallots. They have a much more concentrated flavor that really suits stews, and they’re usually of such perfect size that you don’t have to chop them up. But if you can’t get shallots already peeled, don’t fucking bother. It’s a nightmare. Otherwise, just get a large white onion and cut 3/4 of it up into (get ready for it!) bite-sized chunks. If you want to get fancy, you can get little onions like I did. I like them. They’re fun.
–Potatoes – Again, some options here. Regular potatoes work great – wash them, but leave the skins on. Or don’t, I don’t care. Bite-sized chunkify two large potatoes for this stew. Or, like me, buy the bags of little tiny potatoes and you don’t have to cut them. They’re more expensive but I like the flavor. Oh, you’d like to use sweet potatoes? Kill yourself. Sweet potatoes are fucking awful, especially in stew. What’s wrong with you?
–Beef stock – One container; they’re all about the same size. However, I recommend buying two – having extra is far preferable to not having enough. IMPORTANT: beef stock and beef broth are NOT the same thing. Do not use beef broth. I can’t stress this enough. You might have to hunt for stock too, but it’s essential and should not be substituted.
–Crushed tomatoes – Most things on this list you’re going to want to buy as fresh as you can. But get the canned stuff here. Crushing tomatoes into this consistency is a huge pain in the ass. Also, watch out, as some of them are flavored (lightly, but still) with basil. It’s not the end of the world if you get those, like I did, because I’m a stupid, but in my opinion basil doesn’t go great in this stew. Anyway, a 28 oz can (or thereabouts) is what you need.
–Red wine – A cheap-ass bottle of merlot or cabernet or Malbec will work perfectly. Some people use a stout beer, like Guinness, instead of wine. This is a wonderful twist on the norm and I encourage it wholly. Do not use white wine. Do not.
–Garlic – Four cloves, crushed. If you like more garlic…I mean, you should fucking know what I was going to say by now.
–Rosemary, Thyme, Savory – I cannot stress this enough: BUY THESE FRESH. DO NOT USE THE DRIED STUFF. If you MUST use the dried stuff because you didn’t listen to me, you will not “ruin” your stew, but you’re dumb as hell and it won’t be nearly as good. Fresh herbs are incredible. Don’t fuck around here.
–Bay leaves, Parsley – These you WANT dried.
–Tabasco – Totally optional. I think a little kick for the stew is necessary. Your mileage may vary.
–Sea salt – Another thing I cannot stress enough: DO NOT USE REGULAR TABLE SALT. Get yourself some sea salt in a grinder. Just trust me on this.
–Black pepper – Again, get yourself a pepper grinder and some whole peppercorns. You’re an adult, for God’s sake.
–Olive oil – Actually not in the picture because I forgot it. No one’s perfect.
–A Stockpot – Mine is pretty large. You won’t need one as large. But you will need one. A lot of stuff is going in here.
OK, so are we good here? Now all of this cost me about $80. If you use about half and don’t live in LA, you’ll be spending WELL under $40 for everything and it’ll probably feed four people four times. That ain’t bad economics.
Good, then. Cut up all your vegetables before you do anything else. Very important. Do not skip this step or wait until you’re cooking.
THE OXTAIL
First of all, you want to get yourself a good boning (heh) knife. Do NOT use a good or even a decent knife of any kind to cut oxtail, because cutting it will fuck them RIGHT up. Boning knives are special, and very good ones are cheap. Here’s mine:
I bought this knife for $18 on Amazon (http://www.amazon.com/Dexter-Russell-S131F-6PCP-Boning-Sani-Safe-Series/dp/B0001MRYDI/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1391913642&sr=8-3&keywords=boning+knife). Even THAT is a little expensive. You can get a great one at a kitchen specialty store for $10, and it is INVALUABLE in all kinds of cooking.
OK, so here’s what a whole oxtail looks like. This is what you want:
Oh, that’s nice. Now, before you do ANYTHING else, pat the oxtail down with a paper towel. Get as much moisture off the surface as you can. Why? We go back to our lesson on steaks: dry, raw meat crusts much, much better that wet meat. And since this meat crusting is paramount to developing flavor in your stew, you want a dry piece of oxtail.
Now, you can see very nicely in the above picture (amongst many other talents, I’m a legendary photographer and it was not at all a happy accident that this came out so clearly) that there are knuckles (joints) throughout the tail. This is nature doing the work for you. Take your boning knife and cut through every knuckle. Usually hitting right in the middle works and you just have to saw a little to break through. If you get stopped, move the knife just slightly to the right or left, and you’ll find the path through. It sounds daunting but it’s very, very easy. Once you’ve done that, trim off the excess fat on the largest piece, but be sure to leave a ring of fat all around the outside. You’ll have sections of oxtail that look like this:
Now, again, I used two oxtail here, so you won’t have that much. But it’ll look like that. Now, salt and pepper each section liberally, on ALL sides. And once you’ve done that…PREP IS OVER YAY!
SEAR THAT MEAT
Put your stockpot on the stove and turn the heat it to high. Take a couple of minutes, maybe 5, and let it get REALLY hot. Once it is, put in enough olive oil to coat the bottom of the stockpot. Also throw in two sprigs each of the rosemary, thyme and savory. If the springs aren’t roughly the same size, add a little more of the smaller ones.
Now, drop your meat in. I recommend putting it fat-side down first and letting that get crisp, then searing each of the flat sides. It’s OK to let the meat cook for 2-3 minutes per side.
You REALLY want a char, and here’s why: all those pieces of fat and meat and seasoning that stick to the bottom of the stockpot are going to provide 75% of the flavor for your stew. So let them char. Don’t let them BURN. But get kind of close to that. Once you’re done, put the oxtail on a plate and set it aside. It should look like this by now:
STEW THAT SHIT
OK! Turn the heat on your stockpot down to medium. Toss in your carrots, celery, onions and garlic. You’re going to cook these down, stirring every few minutes, until the carrots are soft and the onions and celery reach a stage that’s approaching translucence. Not sure what that looks like? Well, here’s what they look like just after you’ve tossed them in:
And here’s what they look like after they’ve transluced (I’m going with that), after about 15 minutes or so:
Yeah, OK, photographically not a huge difference. But what you WILL notice, along with the onions getting clearer, is that the veggies have released moisture and starches. This is going to help de-stick all the tasty stuff from the bottom of the stockpot and attach it to the veggies. The veggies will then release them into the liquid later, and that’s what makes this shit taste so goddamned good.
OK, so now that your veggies are ready, open up the bottle of red wine. Pour in enough of it to cover everything, like so:
Continue cooking this on medium heat, stirring every now and then, until the wine has reduced by half. Should take about 10-20 minutes depending on how much wine you needed to cover. Now there are a couple of things you’ll be able to notice that will tell you it’s time for the next step. First of all, most of the alcohol smell will have been cooked out of the wine (or beer, if you’re using that). But also, about half the wine will have been either absorbed by the vegetables or concentrated. So it should now look like this:
Now that it’s ready, dump in your potatoes. Open up your crushed tomatoes and pour those in too; stir everything together. Let this cook for about five minutes or so, until you see it bubbling just slightly.
OK, we’re almost home. Add three dried bay leaves. A big note here: you’re going to either want to extract them from the stew when it’s done or tell whoever’s eating it to be on the lookout for them. First of all, if you bite into one, it’ll taste fucking awful. But ingesting one CAN, if you’re very unlucky, turn your gastrointestinal system into the Straight of Gibraltar. You do not want this. On a similar note, you’ll want to remove the stems from the rosemary, thyme and savory. But at least those won’t nearly kill you. I mean, neither will the bay leaves. So I’m not sure what I’m talking about here.
Toss your meat back into the pot and add in enough beef stock to cover everything. Mix it all together. Add some more pepper. Add a goodly amount of parsley flakes. Add your Tabasco if you like. If you’ve made a large amount of stew, you might want to add one more each of the rosemary, thyme and savory sprigs, but this isn’t usually a necessity. Now stir it all together again.
And with that, you’re pretty much done! Turn the heat back up to medium-high and bring it all to a bubble – not a boil, just a bubble. Once it bubbles, turn the heat down to medium-low and cover the stockpot with a lid. Now, you have your last decision to make. If you like your stew a little soupier, cook it for another two-to-three hours, stirring every once in a while. If you like your stew thicker, cook it for anywhere up to six hours and it will reduce to something more like gravy. For me, the sweet spot is right in between: four hours.
I’ll post a picture of my final result later tonight. This was fun for me. Probably less for you.
One last thing: obviously, you’re going to want to eat your stew right away – maybe over rice, or perhaps just as is. But consider that you should DEFINITELY save some. Once it cools down, pop it in the refrigerator. Overnight, the flavors will mingle and settle and deepen, and when you heat it up the next day it’ll be even better. God, you will like me so much then.
So that’s it, really. You’re an accomplished adultish-type person now. Questions? Shoot me an email or leave me a comment. Otherwise, go eat, you goddamned jackal.
UPDATE: Here’s what it looks like served up…in TUPPERWARE! I’m not going to plate it all fancy-like for you. I’m going to eat it. Actually, it was eaten last night. And now I’m going to have some more. OK, this is over now. Enjoy your own.
Hi friends. It’s that time again where I ask you to do all the work because I am an idiot.
A query from loyal reader Zak:
“I was wondering if you could kind of delve into how you outline. I’ve tried a ton of different ways, but can’t seem to figure out a really effective way for me to break into a story. I know everyone is different and that one method isn’t for every writer, but I always enjoy hearing how other writers (especially ones working in the industry) go about their business.”
Yes, Zak, I’d love to delve into how I outline, because in doing so, I shall expend no energy and simultaneously end any relevant connectivity to this subject: I do not outline. In fact, I do as little prep work (which I shall now call “prewriting”, because that’s what it feels like to me) as is humanly possible. And yes, I AM incredibly lazy, but this is not WHY I work this way. To understand the why, let’s examine how other writers work, and then deconstruct/reconstruct to come to a FUCK ZAK YOU TRICKED ME INTO EFFORT.
As we’ve discussed here many times and as has been discussed ad nauseum on the Internets since the beginning of time (roughly 1993 by my count) and as you so simply pointed out in your email, Zak, different writers have different processes. Those writers who are on the opposite end of the spectrum from me note, outline, treatment, note card, white board and use every single program and facet of Final Draft like they’re fucking CIA analysts. And I have to admit: I envy those people. First of all, I lack not only their dedication, but also their intelligence and attention to detail. But going about writing that way also feels, to me, less like writing and more like indentured servitude. It takes all the fun out of it for me. It also leaves me feeling as though, if I go outside what I’ve prewritten for myself, I’m doing something wrong. That in turn forces me to stick to what I’ve come up with, which in turn leaves me feeling trapped, which in turn leaves me feeling that I can’ creatively wriggle free of any restraints I’ve written myself into. In case you didn’t notice, that’s a lot of turning. Basically, I have a slew of psychological problems.
But I digress to a simpler way of putting it: writing is perhaps the only thing in this world I feel as though I have a spiritual connection to, and the more “planning” I do, the less organic it seems, and the more like a chore it becomes. On the flipside, the LESS planning I do, the more I feel as though I get into a rhythm and, for lack of a less hippie-dippy term, I can let the best story flow out of me.
Now if you’ll excuse me for a moment, I must vomit at my own pretense.
There, I’m better.
That’s not to say that research and/or planning are always something that I can get away from. They are VERY much not. Pitching requires me to often have to put together materials for producers to weigh in on before I even get into the room to talk to someone about it, and that can be a laborious process packed to the gills with tedium. It’s also part of the job. However, once all that’s fleshed out and decided and the check is in the mail and it’s time to put billions of 1s and 0s to virtual paper, I usually abandon all prewritten materials, keep the rough details in my mind, and work comfortably from a place of far less structure. Oddly, in these situations, I always hit something very close to the mark of what was planned anyway. And no, I’m not going to examine this further, and I’m happily ensconced in a lovely If It Ain’t Broke, Don’t Fix It state of ignorance.
Similarly, I’m currently engaged in research for my next spec. There are a lot of materials to go through. But I’m lucky to be able to distill them down to a couple pages of scattershot notes, and that’s what I’ll take into battle with me when I finally get into it. If I stumble, I either write my way out of it or return to a mass of highlighted books and papers to jog my memory for a detail or two. It always ends up working out.
Now, we’ve come a long way to get to a very fundamental point, Zak: you might have to try a lot of different shit to arrive at the process that works best for you. And as it appears you’re still searching, why not gauge opinion for the vast majority of writers – those that work in shades of gray somewhere between the Low Prewriting Effort Pole (me) and the High Prewriting Effort Pole (SO not me)?
So I ask of thee, writers professional, pre-professional and novice alike: what is YOUR process? What are some of the things you’ve implemented in your prewriting routine? What advice can you offer those like Zak that are still clearing the best path?
Feel free to leave your comments below, or shoot me an email and I’ll update this post with any responses I receive. And Zak, thanks for writing. I promise next time you ask something I will know everything and we won’t have to being all these other jerks into the fold.
Fear creeps in immediately, scratching its way into the pit of your stomach the very moment you register the void before you. The limitless vanilla hollow. It’s unlike any other phobia. I am afraid of spiders. Of heights. Of flying.
But there is nothing in this world that terrifies me more than the blank page.
No matter how much I’ve mapped the way, the first question I always ask myself is the same: “What do I say?” But even a notion that basic is a distilled version of the most intrinsic insecurity to ever define my life. So the question, really, is, “Do I have what it takes to create something meaningful again?” Following that, an even deeper exploration: “Did I ever have it in the first place?”
And that’s when Fear opens an old wound and invites Panic to slither on in.
Panic quickly latches onto Fear. The effect is binary and devastating.
What if the jokes don’t come? What if all the funny is gone? What if I’ve used up all of my good ideas? What if I never WAS that funny in the first place? What if the concept of “good ideas” is a myth I created to placate myself? What am I doing here?
It’s not possible, I forcefully convince myself. No one can “run out” of ideas. No one can “run out” of life experiences to draw from. One cannot just become inert and immune to the world around him.
But one CAN get stale. One CAN repeat the past too often. One CAN find himself stuck hopelessly in a comfort zone of safeness and familiarity and repetition. I see it every day. I know that IS a possibility for me. Maybe an eventuality. Perhaps a present condition. Hell, it might have happened a long time ago.
What if it’s already over and I don’t know it? What if it never began in the first place? What if I NEVER had anything to say?
The blink of the cursor becomes a mocking, clownish smirk. Type something, you idiot. Anything. You can wipe away that smile with just a few turns of phrase.
Some days, I fail to do so. Some days, Panic is just too great to overcome.
Other days, the Stories inside me make enough of a commotion that they drown out Panic’s siren song, and fingers end up hitting keys. Words flow and worlds appear, expand, populate, focus. Then the Stories quiet…just long enough, of course, for Panic to cloak itself in heavy vestments, morphing into Doubt. And in doing so it becomes a much greater, much more pervasive force.
The blank page still has the potential to turn into something great. It theoretically *could* be anything. But what I’ve just written? It’s begging to be judged by its harshest critic: me. It is inexorable. It is THERE. And Doubt will have you know that, by simply being, it fails.
And I find myself crippled at the realization. Paralyzed. Bias confirmed.
This is where I could give up. And, in all reality, maybe I should. Doubt is an enthusiastic fan of this idea.
But I don’t. I never do. Why?
The philosophy forever presents itself: Doubt is rooting for the wrong team. And it’s on my turf. I have the home field advantage.
Fingers hit keys again. Words flow and worlds are destroyed, rebuilt entirely, expanded using different tools, populated anew. Instead of silently fading away, the Stories push to the forefront, begging to be given further passage. In the end, they number so many that Doubt is squeezed out the very hole it burgled in through. The exit is sealed from within, now better fortified for the next breach. But it will not impenetrable, mind you.
Because Fear will always find a way, and it will forever drag Panic along with it. In their union they will leave Doubt. And the cycle will perpetuate itself.
But I embrace their return. Their existence has become a cause for action, an apparition that I rely on to disrupt me, but that which I also eventually extinguish. They are, in their own way, an integral cog in the machine.
Because there is nothing in the world I need more than the blank page.
YOU GO MAKE ME RESIDUALS
Terrible Things People Say to Me