So I wrote that big group-hug of a post about the Crazy Train, but I never actually TOLD you what kind of crazy I was dealing with. But that's because I would have cried if I did. I'm better now.
Here goes. 'Member that depression project? 'Member the seven scripts I needed to write? 'Member how I killed myself all last week writing them and forgoing things like dinner and sleep in order to stay one step ahead of the barking, ravenous dogs at my heels?
(You probably didn't know about the dogs.)
Well. Turns out most of the work I did last week was for NOTHING because we (meaning me) were on the COMPLETELY WRONG TRACK. So I spend 30-something hours writing stuff that I will now be deleting. I'm starting from scratch.
And it's all due Friday.
Which would be tomorrow.
Are you feeling the crazy? I'm feeling the crazy.
So after that super-fun conversation with my client, I had a wee cry. And then I made a massive cup of tea and went back to the drawing board.
My mom contributed a thought, which I used not only in the script but to get me through this desperate holy-crap-I'm-screwed moment: "Sometimes the big picture is too scary. Just look at one corner."
I worked through the script moment by moment and I started to feel that weird kind of efficient flow people get when they have to plan funerals for their loved ones and you think how the hell are they STANDING let alone ordering flowers and printing invitations and shaking my hand?
I sent it off and I huddled in front of the fire, rocking back and forth and drooling.
The next morning, I got the email. They loved it. Like LOOOOOOOVED. I had to read the email seven times to believe it, but it's true. I effing NAILED it.
Which is great...only I wrote it in that weird adrenaline fugue where mothers lift cars off their infant children. I mean, come on, they are not actually that strong and obviously that first script was a FLUKE. I can't possibly deliver six more just like it. Clearly that was a coincidence and I can never, ever, ever recreate the mysterious ju-ju that inspired it.
Maybe I can get Boyfriend to fire a gun at me a few times and get me all freaked out and panicky. Maybe I'll hire a pack of rabid dogs to chase me around the block or maybe, please God, they'll just put me out of my misery and FIRE me.
For delivering a script they are salivating over? Oh God. I'm screwed.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
They're not rabid...but they're big...I can offer you my two to chase you around the block a few times...the drool from Axel should get you scared enough...
Good luck, girlie!!! I'm pulling for ya!!!
K-Bomb
Hmmm...what to say. I know how you feel. But the reality is that this the writing process for film. It's crazy train stupid. It's my experience that nothing you write is ever wrong. I can't tell you how many drafts of my feature I have done over the years - it would make your eyes bleed - but I've learned something from every draft, and the script continues to get better. (I've also had to kill a lot of my favorite babies along the way) By the way working with broadcasters, Producers, on anything, and you'll really begin to understand what frustration is like being told by a National film organization that I can't do a film about feminism because I'm a dude, or a country network that told us the rodeo reality series we want to do was too country. You're doing good. Keep at it.
Matt
Post a Comment