** Available for motion picture development **
Honored by the prestigious surfing bible The Surfer’s Journal as a seminal work, The Rise and Fall of Piggy Church is a murder/mystery whodunit …. without the murder.
This surf-themed dramatic novella had been in my head for a long time before its creation was inspired by something I saw late one afternoon at a north Florida beach, something that created an anger strong enough that I stood on the shadowy beach, arms folded, staring at the sea and knowing the time had come to write it.
While my trademark work is ensemble comedy, this story is the opposite — it is about five selfish people whose lives revolve around a pier. In an interview I said my comedies are multicultural ensemble stories with happy endings because that’s the way I want the world to be.
Piggy is different, I said, because Piggy is about five selfish people out to game each other, because that’s the way the world really is.
I wrote Piggy after 12 Miles to Paradise, a sweeping romantic comedy that spanned three countries. Piggy’s story is just the opposite.
To tell the story of Piggy’s world I wanted to zero in on a tiny, finite place. I envisioned viewing the pier from the Hubble Telescope, zooming in and interlocking the lives and frustrations of “beach rats,” to whom the otherwise anonymous pier means everything. Their world is lived within the zip code — and I wanted the story to be a visceral character study immersed in that environment.
The reason why is that, to beach rats, a pier means everything. It is the epicenter of all that matters — Times Square — the hub of daily activity. Changing tides, not seasons, mark the passage of time.
The decision to write this little novella was made within 30 minutes of visiting an aging surfer pal who urged me to go visit the long wooden pier I’d spent hundreds of hours fishing off of during my college days. It was a great wooden-planked pier that extended way out into the ocean, way beyond the breakers. I’d caught an 11-foot hammerhead shark at midnight off that pier and gotten gaffed in the leg trying to land it.
Far more importantly I’d fallen in love under a moonlit sky with a beautiful girl. Piers do that — they create memories — whether you look for them or not.
Having not been to the pier for decades, I was excited to drive over and visit. I’d been there hundreds of times but suddenly couldn’t find it. A giant condo complex stood where the pier should be. Warning signs blocked parking and the beach.
“PRIVATE,” the sign said, “NO ACCESS.”
Rubbish! I parked, trespassed, and meandered through the complex down to the sea.
The pier was gone. Destroyed. All that remained were random crooked pilings, a dozen or so jutting like upright pickup sticks. Standing there, looking at what was left of an innocent temple of memories in the shade of the condo’s high-rise afternoon shadows, I quickly grew angry.
“Progress my (expletive)!”
Something clicked inside, yelling that it was time to tell the story of Piggy Church.
Dormant for so long, the story came to life. It was a strong compulsion, a need to tell the story, that drove the project forward with energy and passion.
After reading it my editor said, “You write dark really well. You need to do more of it.”
“But I don’t like it.”
“You’re good at it,” she said. “You’ve got a great dark side.”
That, of course, is for others to judge. But I do think we all have a dark side, with some of us more eager to show it. Others suppress theirs. Piggy was a story I was compelled to tell because the time had come to tell it.
When finished, I’d crafted a murder mystery that received the highest possible endorsement from surfing’s most respected publication, The Surfers Journal. The reviewer compared my storytelling to Hemingway and the mystery trip to Agatha Christie. Pedestal company for any man, especially a guy like me. Clearly I had hit a vein of relevance, and that’s what I set out to do.
Piggy Church is a surfer, a sellout hotshot who trades the lifestyle for a maniacal pursuit of money. I wanted the novella to be a chronicle of the times, so it revolves around three of surfing’s most emotional issues: selling out or not selling out; the attack of the true surf culture by the expanding pandering to wannabees; and what I called No Cold Sand — the trading of open beaches for the big money development of beachfront condominiums.
When telling the story I take no sides. The story’s voice, Arnold (the pier owner), is a situational liar. Ninety percent of what he says is true. But at the story’s end it is up to the reader to figure out what really happened. The clues are there, but the reader must piece those clues together. I do not hit you over the head with the answer. The fun of a good whodunnit is sorting out the mystery.
Another featured character is Blackie, a dying old man whose life revolves around shark fishing. Tim Pugh, a boardmaker, lives from check to check. Elizabeth — “the girl with a dozen names” — is coyly determined to manipulate all four men to get everything she wants out of life as soon as possible.
The book did super in its initial release and spawned three trademarks: Piggy Church Surfboards, No Cold Sand, and Developers Don’t Surf. Product tie-ins were test-marketed and sold quickly. It was fun to watch the story quickly take a life of its own.
Surfing, to those truly living the lifestyle, is not a group hug. It is a sport of solitary passion, exhilaration and truth. It will honor you and crush you. It will measure your style and test your will. Gift you and embarrass you. It will fill your lungs with seawater, your heart and soul with joy.
All five characters lived accordingly. They gave and took. They were selfish. So, when crunch time came, turnabout seemed very fair play.
It is always an honor to have a book or screenplay optioned for movie development. The Rise and Fall of Piggy Church has been a very popular story optioned once but the rights are again available. The film will hopefully be shot on location sometime soon along Florida’s northeast coast.
Piggy will be a fun movie project to watch come alive. And when the time comes to see it in the theater, I hope you enjoy being a part of its success.