If Heroin Were a Woman: Writing Through the Lens of Lived Experience
By Guest | August 29, 2024 |
Therese here to introduce you to someone near and dear to me: my son, Liam. ❤️
Liam’s screenwriting journey started as a Rod Serling fan. Inspired by Serling’s allegorical storytelling, he attended USC’s film school where his thesis film, You Missed a Spot, was selected in over 30 festivals internationally. Since then, he has worked on the production-side of the industry, most recently wrapping as the line producer’s assistant on FX’s Mayans MC.
You may have heard about the downturn of work in Hollywood, and so Liam has bided his time between jobs doing something he was likely, inevitably, genetically born to do: WRITE. That the short story he’s written, that he’s now determined to see produced (see Kickstarter), taps into a real-life wound should come as no surprise to you, WU community.
But I’ll let Liam tell you about that, WU-style. Take it away, kiddo.
As writers, we often face the challenge of crafting stories that feel authentic, especially when venturing into experiences we haven’t lived ourselves. This was the case for me when I set out to write my new short film, Venus in Furs, a psychological thriller that personifies heroin as a woman.
I’m a filmmaker living in Los Angeles, and my life was deeply impacted when one of my close friends from film school overdosed on drugs laced with the powerful synthetic opioid, fentanyl. I remember the first time I met him—we were attending a mandatory lecture on the cinema and music of the 1960s. We were sitting on either side of another student we both had a crush on and got into a pointless debate about The Doors, as if this poor girl remotely cared about some band from five decades ago. He demolished me in the debate. The guy was like Jim Morrison himself—long-haired, charismatic as hell, with a ribcage you could practically see through his t-shirt.
After the girl successfully escaped, the two of us grabbed lunch and admitted we were only trying to impress her. Instant friendship.
During lunch, our conversation abruptly ended when he mentioned he was going to leave to smoke some opium. I assumed he was joking at the time—I mean, I had just met the guy. What, opium? You mean that shit from the 1800s? But over time, I came to learn that he was affected by a powerful addiction that, to him, wasn’t some unshakable affliction as often depicted, but rather the means to radically take hold of his post-high-school freedom and live out the fantasy of the rock ’n’ roll lifestyle he so loved.
The last time I saw him, I visited his three-bedroom high-rise in Downtown Los Angeles, full of vintage records and a collection of Les Pauls paid for with credit cards he couldn’t pay off. It was the Fourth of July, and he was excited to launch fireworks at passing cars. At that point, I had witnessed the drug obliterate his ambitions. He had stopped attending classes, gained weight, and lost that magic spark that drew me to him in the first place. Heroin took everything from him. And yet he was so happy to participate in his own self destruction. In fact, sitting there with all his guitars and drugs, looking like a rockstar, I think he loved it.
Searching for a Spark
When my friend died, I was left with questions, pain, and the struggle to keep my own ambitions afloat. A few years after graduating college, I landed crew jobs on television shows and movies, and even had a brief stint producing podcasts for Jordan Belfort—yes, the real-life Leonardo DiCaprio from The Wolf of Wall Street. But I was desperately searching for a new idea, something to write and direct.
They say write what you know. I remembered that years ago, that same friend and I made a short film about addiction. As ironic and dark as it is, he starred in the short film as the ghost of a man who overdosed on heroin. I had forgotten about the short—maybe subconsciously as a way to protect myself from the weird nature of it all—but began thinking about it again and how to expand it into a more serious project that would make my friend proud.
And so the idea for Venus in Furs was born, inspired by Leopold von Sacher-Masoch’s 1870 German novella and the 1967 Velvet Underground song of the same name, which explores complex themes of power dynamics, toxic romance and human desire. My initial drafts were influenced by these themes—a horror movie about addiction that appears on screen as a man’s love for pain in an abusive relationship with a woman. But while the concept was intriguing, the story was too dark, too heavy, and lacked the depth and authenticity I was striving for.
The Power of Real-World Insights
Everything changed when I decided to connect with people who knew this world better than I ever did. I posted a question on Reddit: “If heroin was a woman, who would she be?” The responses I received were both surprising and profoundly shaped the direction of my screenplay.
One user wrote, “She would be warm and loving, seductive and charming. Somebody you just want to be around and you don’t even know why. Like a magnet, you’re drawn to her. But you see, heroin has a duality to her that you’d only understand if you met her.” Another wrote, “She’s always kind and warm to you, but she’s ruining your life at the same time.”
People who had used heroin, or were in recovery, described heroin not as a sinister force, but as a beautiful, seductive, and loving figure—someone who offers warmth and comfort in a cold world. This was a revelation, not only for my screenplay but in reflecting on my friend’s journey and addiction as a whole. It made me realize that I wasn’t telling a horror story at all, but a love story, albeit a toxic one.
Embracing Useful Constraints
Armed with these new insights, I found myself overwhelmed with possibilities of who my characters could be. When I learned about a $50,000 grant for shooting a film in Lower Manhattan, it forced me to rethink the entire script once again. Originally set in Los Angeles, the move to New York City, inspired by my time working with Jordan Belfort, provided the constraints I needed to refine the narrative further.
Setting the film in New York introduced new elements that shaped the story—locations, dialects, tone, and atmosphere. Lower Manhattan provided two contrasting worlds—Wall Street and the underbelly of the city, where an ambitious financier might succumb to the safety and comfort of an opioid. These constraints didn’t limit the story; they enriched it. They gave me parameters to work within, which in turn sparked creativity and helped me develop a more layered, authentic narrative.
Balancing Research and Creativity
My story is an allegory that operates on two levels, so another challenge I faced was ensuring that the portrayal of heroin as a woman didn’t feel like a gimmick. The hero’s journey needed to resonate on both fronts—as the story of an addict and as the story of a toxic romance. To achieve this, I had to blend dramatic storytelling with accurate research.
I started by researching the physical effects of heroin addiction, breaking down the addict’s journey from first usage to overdose into a simple step-by-step guide. Then, I matched each of these steps with how it would appear as a romance in the film. I was surprised by how effective and straightforward this method was for crafting a compelling hero’s journey that worked on both levels. To quote one of my film school professors, “Keep it simple, stupid!”
Practical Tips
- Don’t be afraid to seek out real-world insights, even from unexpected places. Whether through online forums, interviews, or personal conversations, grounding your story in authentic experiences can bring a level of depth and truth that pure imagination sometimes can’t achieve. And… it’s free!
- Constraints can be incredibly useful in the creative process. Whether they’re imposed by budget, setting, or character limitations, use them to your advantage. They can force you to think more creatively and help you focus on the essential elements of your story.
- Use research as a foundation for your story’s structure. When dealing with complex themes or allegories, break down the real-world journey you want to parallel in your narrative. Then, align these steps with your story’s emotional beats. This method helps ensure that both the factual and dramatic elements resonate and work together seamlessly.
As corny as it sounds, writing Venus in Furs was a journey of discovery, not just about the story itself but also in finding closure for my friend’s untimely death. By engaging with real experiences, embracing constraints, and using research as a foundation for my story’s structure, I was able to craft a narrative that resonates on multiple levels. So far, the screenplay has advanced in three major screenwriting competitions and I am so excited to bring the film to life.
Over to you, WU community! Have you ever drawn from someone else’s life experiences to create a character or story? How did you balance authenticity and respect for their story? What’s the most valuable piece of feedback you’ve received that completely changed your approach to a story? Have you ever used a story as a means of finding closure or processing a difficult experience? How did the process affect you?
Liam has no novel to include here via a preview, BUT you can learn much more about the film he envisions, watch his personal pitch, and contribute to the Venus in Furs Kickstarter HERE.
Many thanks to today’s guest.
You can read more WU guest posts by visiting this link.
Hey Liam — First, I’m so sorry for your loss. It’s actually pretty cool how finding your way to dealing with grief through an artistic outlet has become an an altruistic act. Some really powerful lessons here, for other writers, and ultimately, for your entire audience, I’m sure.
Regarding finding closure, I only really saw it in hindsight, but I started actually putting words on blank pages two decades ago, during a summer when my wife was spending much of her time at my very ill mother-in-law’s bedside. This was after–oh, about twenty-five years of “intending to write,” and not writing. Contrary to the stereotype, I was very close with my MIL–she was one of my favorite people, extremely well-read and extraordinarily empathetic. Although she hadn’t been a fan of Tolkien, she knew that I was, and created a family holiday tradition around all of us going to the theater to see each LOTR movie as they released. She encouraged me to write in so many ways without ever saying, “When are you going to actually start writing?” So good job getting out of the blocks faster than I did.
I became fully immersed in the project in the months after she passed. Still, I didn’t make the correlation. Even once the story that was slowly emerging included not just one mother character’s death, but TWO mothers dying, I didn’t fully grasp how I was coming to grips with grief. And quite possibly preparing myself for my own mother’s inevitable passing (which didn’t come about for another decade).
Thanks for a great essay, with really useful lessons and reminders. Wishing you the very best with the project! I can’t wait to see the result!
Hey Vaughn, thanks so much for your kind words and sharing your experience. It’s crazy how sometimes our subconscious takes hold of the wheel to help us process things, especially through creative outlets like writing, art and music. Maybe we should also throw dreaming in the mix — is that a creative outlet? Your story about your mother-in-law is touching. It’s beautiful that her encouragement led to something meaningful.
I truly appreciate your support for the project. I think you’re right — there’s something to be said about turning personal loss or pain into something that can resonate with others. And it doesn’t necessarily have to be the “tortured artist” thing. Any state of mind where we’re feeling intentional about our emotions can be fertile ground for creativity. Thanks for your comment and wishing you all the best in your writing journey!
Hi Liam, life is certainly a journey, with its confusing yet amazing ups and downs. I wish you the best with this project. Never ever give up.
Thanks so much, Beth!
Awesome post, Liam! I love how you dive deep into your writing process, tapping every angle for all its goodies. Your emphasis on research also hits home for me. I believe research can cure a whole lotta writing bugs.
I wrote A Keeper’s Truth at my father’s bedside. A rare form of leukemia had taken ahold, rocking my father and our family to its core. Having lost my brother and stepfather to cancer only months prior, I was feeling life’s fragility to the max. Writing, at the time, was not only an escape but an exploration. I am not a religious soul, but I found solace in research and writing about the human spirit in a way I’d never considered.
I am thrilled to know you found similar solace in your exploration. Never stop opening your mind to possibilities–they can, in my humble opinion–save the world.
Hugs,
Dee
Thanks so much, Dee for you comment and for sharing your story! I have always felt research-adverse for some reason (lazy) but found it to be an enjoyable and insightful experience on this project. Seems to me a bit like exercising — best to just DO IT and you’ll feel the rewards almost immediately.
Liam, first, I am so sorry about the death of your friend. That you’re using allegory to show the dangers of opioid addiction is brilliant. It has touched my family as well, so I know what you mean by its seductive power. I’ve only just begun writing a story of redemption around this topic. I am perennially optimistic, full of hope. We’ll see how it works out…I’ve been researching the topic for over 10 yrs. Best of luck bringing the film to the public!
Also, thank YOU! You are a wonderful writer. You make your mama proud.
Thanks so much, Vijaya for your kind words! It’s so cool that you’re writing about this topic as well — especially as a story of redemption. It’s a worthy topic deserving of more attention since the opioid crisis affects so many. I wish you the best of luck!
Wonderful post, Liam and I join the other commenters in offering condolences for the loss of your friend.
I can answer all the questions you posed to us with a resounding, “Yes.”
One of my stage plays personifies death as a character who appears on stage at crucial moments in the lives of four women in a cancer support group. The idea of having death as a character was a gift from a workshop I attended when studying to work as a hospital chaplain. The presenter who worked in a hospice program talked about how they encourage patients to imagine death is sitting in a chair across from them and they can tell death whatever they want.
Right away I started taking notes on how that could play out on stage and later it all came together as a story as I worked and met women at various stages of breast cancer. I also had a good friend who was going through her 5th round of cancer and treatment. She was a mother of young children and eventually the cancer took her. That impacted me deeply emotionally and spiritually, and the main character in my play, besides death, is based on that friend.
It was quite a thrill when the play was performed at a small community theatre.
Good luck with the competitions for your screenplay. That would be an amazing movie.
Hi Maryann, thanks so much for your kind words! I love the concept of your stage play—what a creative and powerful concept to bring death to life as a character in a cancer support group. It sounds like such a profound and meaningful way to explore their stories and honor your friend.
Thanks for sharing your experience and for your support and encouragement with my project! Wishing you all the best in your creative endeavors, too!
This is a fantastic post, Liam, and I am so sorry for your loss.
I have most definitely drawn from someone else’s life as inspiration for a story. The novel of my heart is a lightly fictionalized version of my great-grandparent’s scandalous love story and it is my way of trying to restore his rightful place in the art world. (He was a quite famous landscape painter who has been forgotten by history because of said scandalous love story.)
Good luck with your screenplay. It sounds like a movie I would love to see.
Hey Kim, thanks so much for your kind words and sharing a bit about your novel. “…scandalous love story to restore his rightful place in the art world” definitely has me hooked. Will be following along and best of luck!
Welcome, Liam! It’s great to see you here. And what an article! I loved your pointers about constraints, research, and real-world insights. As a historical novelist myself, these are the very backbone of what I do for all of my novels. I enjoyed seeing your fresh approach to applying them for film writing. Thanks for the great post today. And I’m wishing you all the luck as you forge ahead with your next project! You’re a true talent.
Thanks so much, Heather! Wow — would love to know what your research process looks like for something as sprawling as a historical novel. I’m sure you have it nailed! Thanks for your comment and good luck to you with any and all upcoming projects!
Liam, you aren’t pulling a fast one here, are you? Did your mom write this? Kidding, but implicit in there is that you have the good writing goods. Bad and sad business on the death of your friend, but in some way you are giving him long regard in the pursuit of your art. You offered sound pointers in the tips; I’ve often used real-world folks as models for fictional works, or for thematic matters.
(And my mother is the reason I’m a writer today; she’s gone, but there’s still time to send your mom a cupcake.)
Haha, why didn’t I think of that! Could have saved so much time!!
Thanks for the kind words. It’s amazing how much our real-world experiences and the people in our lives can shape our work. I love that your mom played such a big role in your writing journey. Thanks again for the support and for taking the time to read the essay. Next time I’m in town, I’ll be sure to buy my mom a cupcake from the both of us.
Liam, I’m so sorry about the loss of your friend. But the subconscious works in strange ways, doesn’t it? Here he is again in your project, peeking out around the corners. I enjoyed your post very much and wish you all the luck with your movie.
Thank you so much Liz for the support and contribution. Means the world! Best of luck to you as well with any and all upcoming projects!
Liam, I am seldom online these days but decided to pop in for your first post. What an informative, reflective, and compassionate article. If you decide on adding the titles essayist or a novel writer to your portfolio, I have no doubt you would be successful.
And like others have said, I am sorry for your loss, though. I think you show great wisdom and taking the lessons forward into your art.
Please forgive my errant punctuation and missed words. Siri doesn’t always like me.
Thank you SO much, Jan for the kind words! I’m touched you popped in for the post. Means the world!
Bravo, Liam! Thanks for this insightful post. And congratulations for having the courage to take the stereotype of drug addiction and turning it on its head. At the risk of sounding like a Pollyanna, I think the world would be a better place if we did likewise in our attitudes towards people who are homeless, queer, mentally ill (your personal pariah here). Too often we buy into the conventional, judgmental tropes and miss the humanity of the individual.
Thanks so much, Christine! I couldn’t agree more — it seems that some of the most compelling and human stories come out of these shunned or overlooked communities and so as a storyteller, they are fascinating. Thank you for your comment and good luck on all that lies ahead!
Hi, Liam. Congratulations on your script and what looks like a promising film. And let me say you have the most awesome parents! I am so sorry for your loss. The pain of losing a close friend is unimaginable. I have been dealing with my own loss as my only son, Peter, passed away last year at the age of 25. I wrote a post for Writer Unboxed on my memories of him as a jazz musician and the the similarities and differences in the way musicians and writers approach the creative process. Still, I have a hard time writing about him and I couldn’t imagine writing a novel with a character based on him. We all have our own way of dealing with grief and it looks like you have channeled it into honoring your friend’s life. I wish you the best on this and all of your future endeavors.
Hey Chris, thanks so much for your comment. I’m truly sorry to hear about the loss of your son.
It’s true that we all find our own ways to cope with grief, and for me, writing this script has been a way to process and honor my friend’s life. I’m incredibly touched by your message and wish you all the best in your journey as well. Thank you again for taking the time to share your story — it means a lot.
Liam, I’m so sorry for the loss of your friend. The way you’ve honored his life and death, finding meaning in what seems meaningless, is inspiring.
Your post has definitely set me thinking. Many–maybe most–of my stories have started with a person IRL, though they quickly become transformed as the story takes shape. Something remains of the original spark, perhaps their goal or particular motivation, perhaps their flaw.
Considering this reminds me of the way I often respond to the why-I-write question: I speak for the dead. Not in every story, of course, and sometimes the death is a metaphor, yet the impulse is there to carry something of them forward and put it out to the world.
The way you are amplifying your friend’s life and sharing it warms my heart. I especially love the way you’ve dug into the stereotype of a drug addict to show that there’s more to it than we think. And what a stunning metaphor you’ve found! Thank you for your insights and good luck with your project.
Late to the party but I enjoyed reading about your project and its genesis. Thanks for sharing the journey and lessons you learned along the way. Good luck with everything as you go to the finish line!