Of course it’s really damn early in the morning and sleep just isn’t being had. That’s just how it is.
One thing about writing that I’m really learning lately is that you can’t do too much of it. Well, let me elaborate before you start throwing things and then begin trolling on me. Writing is such a weird and fucked up thing to call a profession and do on a daily basis because you really just don’t know where it’s going to take you.
Guys who do a dayjob, and they do it every day, and they’ve been doing it for awhile, they know what their day is going to be like. Most of us have dayjobs, and predictably, nothing out of the overall norm happens, if rarely, at all. Writing and creativity is different.
Monday was case in point. Had no idea what the day was going to end up. Starting out in the morning, the first thing I had to really do was make a few phone calls totally unrelated to writing. Hour later, that’s done. Driving to work (the dayjob), got to work. At work a bit later, I think I was going to end up working on a few story ideas that could be contributed to a script that I’m co-writing with someone. Turned out my laptop’s battery decided to quit on me. I charged the fucker up all night too. Technology fails.
So I’m on the work desktop, and that shit is monitored, not to mention about five years behind in modern computerism. I’d much rather be on my laptop, diddling around and making sense of words in a Final Draft document. Not the case today, so now I’m futzing the fumbling around on a Word .doc file like an eighth grader. Ugh. Work soon came to an end. Laptop still dead.
Drove to the meeting that was scheduled with my co-writer, who is actually a really good guy here in Phoenix. He’s a director by trade, worked on ten or so films around the country. Guy knows his shit. But like most creative people, he’s come to understand that collaborating is one of the most effective, if the not the single most effective way to getting any project brought to its destined fruition. Because we’ve all had ups and downs with this, true. But when the energy flows and the proverbial spitballs are shot everywhere, there isn’t anything like it in the world.
I’m on a fucking yellow legal pad and an ink pen from some hotel. Meeting goes well, except for the part where I break the spine of his copy of “Save The Cat”. Terrific book, by the way. If you’re a writer and haven’t read it, what the living fuck is wrong with you? Truthfully, I break the spines of most paperback books. I hate it when you need to have the damn book open and use both hands elsewhere, like to fucking write on a dumb yellow legal pad because your shitty laptop decided to be a ragged twat all day. Oh, works now, by the way. Thanks.
Couple of pages of chicken-scratch handwriting later, I’m bombing it up the 101 towards my place in Deer Valley. Make a call to my other writing partner, we decide that we’re going to napalm everyone we know with the bus drivers script and premise/synopsis, that information is right here. Feel free to make it more viral that it is at the moment (hardly). Gotta be honest. We just need the right pair of eyes attached to the right pair of hands to cut us the right kind of check, and that’s all we’re looking for. And maybe a writing gig or two after that with those inside.
After that call, I texted (ugh, yeah this is a word now, even though it looks awful on the page) a colleague I’m getting to know a little more. She’s based in Southern California and has connections. So she’s got a pretty decent idea of getting a few Creatives together to start generating kickass scripts to then penetrate the beast that she has access too a whole lot more than a Phoenician like me does. We talk for a good 50 minutes, and she’s going to read the bus drivers script and see what she thinks. I’m optimistic in the best way. But I kind of hope she rips it to shreds and analyzes the hell out of it. Because this is something that hasn’t really happened yet. And I’m not just saying that either. It’s generally come back really positive and no true criticisms. I’m pretty fucking proud of that, because my first four scripts sure didn’t have these kind words.
And now it’s about two hours later, and I’m beginning to calm down. Shouldn’t have had the 32-ounce QuikTrip Diet Coke at 11pm, but what the hell, I’m not working tomorrow, so fuck it. Tomorrow (today), I’m adding a few scenes to the bus drivers script and giving it a good once-over that it needs. Haven’t read over it in about two weeks, a little wershing o’ der winders, you know? And then I’ll crank out some ad copy I’ve been meaning to write for a friend. I do that a lot as a side-gig, pays well too. Good to be able to pay a cable bill and whatever.
Where this morning began on four hours of sleep my cranky eye-boogers, I’m knackered 19 hours later and probably will be down until noon. No dayjob tomorrow. I’ll get some fucking work done on this dern laptop now. 1:54am Pacific, over and out.