19 June 2009

doldrums

Been a rough week in terms of useful writing.

Where I seemed to have some momentum and energy (at last) for a few weeks there, now I sit at the keyboard and just... sigh. Every time I put eyes on something I'm trying to write I suddenly feel like mowing the yard or sorting silverware or cleaning the office or driving to sit and stare at traffic driving past the McDonalds.

This is not good.

I leave for Boy Scout summer camp in a few days, which means I'll then have basically zero computer access for a full week. Sure, I'll take some printouts of stuff in progress and I'll lounge around under some trees (I hope there are trees...) and spill red ink all over, and I'll probably wind up scribbling notes and proto-outines to some new ideas that invariably pop up whenever I am supposed to be doing something else, but what will *not* get done is "finishing these scripts."

I've got three scripts in various stages of first-draft hell, and they've all been dragging for... well, too damned long. But it's hard to get motivated much when it feels like it really doesn't matter much anyway -- Hollywood will option a damned FaceBook status update from a Pomeranian and I can't a word read.

"PPPFFTTTTTT" pretty much sums up my feelings about everything right now.

Maybe I'll feel less disgusted by it all tomorrow.

Sure. Why not. Anything could happen.
.
.
.
dead calm B

1 comment:

E.C. Henry said...

Brett,

You should go back over earlier notes of the story, APART from the writing. Expand on those notes, drawing pictures, and create new scenes.

You need FRESH momentum. That doesn't come from stairing at your keyboard day-after-day.

Write "outside your draft" advice from Billy Mernit that I think is real good.

Anyway, hope you have a good time at the Boy Scouts summer camp. Didn't know the Boy Scouts were still a functioning unit. I, myself, was a boy scout briefly growing up in Illinois, but up here in the state of Washington they have like ZERO presence. I guess were too filled with Starbucks.

Hope things turns arround for ya.

Love,

E.C. Henry