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May 21, 2011
Pre-Promax Pro Game NYC Seminar
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April 15, 2011
Trailer Talk
Have wanted to weigh in on this for a long time now.
There is a consideration missing from the trailer conversation.
It’s called The Audience.I know, every new group that comes along wants to make their mark on the cultural landscape and define their time distinct from all others. Aside from whatever financial considerations there are to using or not using a narrator for theatrical trailers, there is the idea that not using a voice “lets the film speak for itself.”
Yeah, no. That’s not a trailer. That’s a cut-down version of the film that does not immediately grab our attention from looking for seats, texting, asking what everyone wants to eat, catching up on gossip.
A trailer is a series of strategically orchestrated scenes narrated by a skilled storyteller who tells us how to feel about what we are seeing. It’s a time-honored contract that is being broken and depriving us of a treasured aspect of going to “the movies.” It’s also giving the audience permission not to pay attention to what’s on the screen because it’s not cashing in on the subconscious need we have to be instantly transported from our own lives and dropped in to “a world” other than our own.
No matter when producers, editors and filmmakers showed up on the planet, they still grew up going to theaters, buying popcorn, sodas, candy, etc. and settling down to watch trailers before the Main Attraction came on the screen. In that darkened enclave, a voice came on, enveloping them and the rest of the audience in the world of the Coming Attractions.
Without The Voice, we are not hypnotically pulled to the screen with the almost pavlovian response to pay attention that was ingrained into our psyches since childhood.
When the odd and random, disembodied voice does suddenly shows up on a few lines here and there or suddenly drops in at the end to announce the title, it startles us and not in a good way. The rule in writing is called ‘playing fair with the audience.” If you are going to introduce an element, it should be there from the beginning and be a part of the story or it attracts attention to itself and is frankly, just plain bad writing. The reaction is “ Who’s that and where’d they come from?” It often gets a laugh and again, not in a good way.
So please, restore our movie-going experience as we knew and loved it and in the process, cash in on the equity trailers have built up over the years to pull us in, settle us down and help us not only get ready for the Main Event but make a mental note to make sure we see all those others, as well.
Play fair with us and we might just come back more than we have been lately!
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March 25, 2011
A Pinecone in the Desert
It had been one of the toughest years of my life. My mother’s illness took all her resources and mine. Flying back and forth from California to Florida after my father’s death to set up her new life whittled my life down to the nubs.
A friend suggested I attend a weekend retreat she’d just completed. It became my first step towards living an examined life.
Our last process was to pair up, go off into the high desert and find a token that would remind us of the work we’d done that weekend.
My partner found his token right away and trudged around with me, pointing out rocks, feathers and assorted desert debris as possibilities. Nothing felt like a fit.
He was cold and wanted to get back to the compound.
”Are you looking for something special?” he asked.
I nodded.
“What?”
“A pinecone.”
“ A pinecone” he said flatly. “You’re looking for a pinecone in the desert.”
I nodded again. He shook his head.
When I was a kid, we lived next to a forest for a while. I would wander around under the canopy of trees. They made me feel secure. After that, whenever I ran across a pinecone that wasn’t where it should be, like in a city or on the beach, I brought it home.
I saw it as a sign that all would be well.
“Right, he said, shivering, “ but you know that’s probably not going to happen.”
A few steps later, I saw what looked like a pinecone. I raced over but it turned out to be a parched sunflower. “Ok, I said, “if I don’t find what I’m looking for, I’ll take this.”
He threw up his hands and said he was heading back.
Just as I too was about to give up and go back to the sunflower, there it was – a real, honest to goodness pinecone! I scooped it up and held it against my heart.
“Thank you“ I whispered “I knew you were out there somewhere.”
When it was time for me to tell why a pinecone meant something to me I said: “I’m going home with a renewed belief and trust in myself. I learned that whatever it is you seek, don’t settle, because what you really want just might be a few steps away. And, that no matter what, if I can find a pinecone in the desert, I can do anything.”
I still bring pinecones home when I find them in an unlikely place.
You’d be surprised how many there are out there.
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February 21, 2011
The Pro Game Intensive Seminar – Chicago
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January 3, 2011
The TrAction Intensive for Established Pros
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November 28, 2010
Toasting the Law of Attraction
I’m walking down Madison Avenue and see a spectacular display of fabulous martini glasses in the window of an equally fabulous shop.
I’ve been looking for martini glasses to grace the shelves of my teacart, an item I use about as much I will be using the glasses. No matter, they look great and for true Girly Girls, that’s the barometer of what gets to come live with us.
I stroll into the shop and am greeted with studied civility by a wan gentleman who floats over to speak with me.
“Yes Madam” he says, “May I be of some assistance?”
“Yes,” I say, cheerily gesturing to the window display, “how much are the etched martini glasses in the window?”
He rises up on demi-point and glides over to the display, taking one rare jewel of a glass off the gleaming pyramid and placing it in my hand. He then launches into the entire lineage of the glass, each charming detail elevating the cost by ten percent.
I dutifully admire the glass as he beams at it like a newborn. I sigh and look up at him.
“And how much would this little treasure be?”
He proudly declares that each is a numbered, one of a kind, hand-blown gem with the distinctive artisan’s mark on the underside of the curve, at the melding of the stem and the foot and sells for a mere $250.
“Each?” I query, trying not to appear apoplectic.
He nods evenly as he reaches to take it back.
“They are quite something, aren’t they?”
I agree, ask for his card and assure him I’ll be in touch.
We both know better.Back on terra firma, I am still without stunningly useless glasses for my equally useless teacart. But a true Girly Girl is not without her guile.
I am visualizing glasses on the cart and a bevy of admiring friends gathered around, cooing over my fabulous finds as we settle in for one of those equally fabulous salons I want to host in great costumes reminiscent of Rosalind Russell in “Auntie Mame.”
The movie, not the musical. The “real“ Auntie Mame, darling.Sometime later:
I am looking for my vegetable peeler.
I look and look and then realize the problem.
I don’t own one.
Spending as little time in the kitchen as I do, it’s not unusual for me to lose track of the inventory.Something possessed me to download a recipe that requires peeled potatoes. With potatoes scrubbed and awaiting their fate, I accept mine. I have to go get a peeler.
Not wanting to spend a whole lot of money, I go to one of those stores I vowed to never enter again unless being pursued by a pack of wolves.
Just as I’d remembered: unattended carts with shrieking infants, cavorting siblings from embattled, multi-generational families, fighting over a mountain of purchases in overflowing carts, a blaring intercom and the buzz of garish neon lighting. This is what I get for thinking I should cook.
I round kitchenware and see an assortment of chef’s tools. There are several kinds of potato peelers. I select one that will match my décor and look lovely in the drawer. Leaving the aisle, almost past giftware, my heart skips a beat and I come to a screeching halt. What?!
There, nestled between a multi-colored, cross-eyed chicken vase and a ceramic lamp in the shape of an outhouse, is one lone, achingly fabulous martini glass just like the ones I’d seen on Madison Avenue!
I carefully remove the glittering glass from its rude surroundings and examine it like a coroner on CSI. It’s not a knockoff! I see the delicate artisan’s mark etched on the curve between the stem and the foot, verifying its lineage. And, wait for it… it’s only five dollars and ninety-nine cents? From $250 to $5.99!
Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Right into my trembling hands!
I hold it up like the trophy that it is, imagining myself receiving a Gold Medal at the Shopping Olympics!My revelry is short-lived. I realize there’s only one. Oh, cruel Fate, to put this lovely treasure within my grasp and not provide just one more to at least make a set?
This is where Law of Attraction kicks in.
Gazing ever so quietly at the glass, I hear my Inner Voice whisper:
“If there’s one, there are two.”I scour the shelves. Zip. I‘m crushed. Then, the Voice whispers: “Turn around”.
There, behind a miss-matched jumble of pots and pans, is another!
I now have a set.
So, do I go home and gloat over my two or go for a Personal Best?
The risk is that if I do find one more, three would drive me as batty as only having one.
The Voice assures me “There’s yet another”.
Up and down the aisles I go, scouring unrelated items for the crazy-making third, deciding that if I do find it, I’ll start a Trend of Three.
I spot a nice set of sheets marked down from $199 to $39.95.
C’mon, who can’t use a nice set of sheets at a great price?
I take the package off the shelf and ponder purchasing it.I gasp. Hiding behind the sheet set was…you guessed it, the third martini glass. I slowly slide the glass out of its linen cave and into my welcoming arms.
I am at a crossroads. Do I accept this odd bounty of three martini glasses knowing I will now spend an inordinate amount of time online, trying to track down a fourth, at any price, or do I trust the Law of Attraction, my Inner Voice and the Cheese Sandwich with the image of the Virgin Mary and see if there’s a fourth?
I wait for a message.
“If there’s three, there’s four.”
I’m on it, plowing through parts of the store I’ve never visited before:
Men’s Underwear. Yes, it’s come to that.And there it was!
Snuggled coyly between Beefy Tees and Tidy Whitees was… The Fourth!Standing in the check-out line, I didn’t care that all cashiers, except one, were on a lunch break and the sole one working was a trainee from the planet Zoid. I was about to make Retail History!
So, whether it’s Law of Attraction, your Inner Voice, or the Virgin Mary on a cheese sandwich, believe that if it’s meant to be, whatever you seek is out there, waiting for you, and allow the Universe do the rest.
Martini’s anyone?
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October 26, 2010
Ryan Drean Releases New Podcast Featuring Marice Tobias
Pull up a chair and have a listen to Ryan Drean’s podcast interview posted earlier today.
Marice chats with Ryan all about the world of voiceover.http://www.ryanontheradio.com/2010/10/episode-29-part-1-marice-tobias/
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NYC & South Florida Seminars Coming Up in November!
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October 15, 2010
New “Personal Best” seminar date added to November schedule!
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September 27, 2010
“Personal Best” seminar announced
“Personal Best” seminar announced. Los Angeles – October 23rd & 24th.
Click on flyer for full details!
