Where's Jody?
January 07, 2003
Let's see... it's 83 degrees in January and I have the choice between a)arguing or b)running naked in the surf.
Duhhhhhhh....
Actually, I wish. Oh no. It's 83 degrees around here and I did get two invites to head down to the various beaches, but, yours truly, instead was sitting behind the computer revising a @#$#$%#@%#@%@#%#@ screenplay in order to get it ready for a pitch meeting "sometime" soon.
The funny thing about writing -- and I don't mean this as a slight to my fellow bloggers who differ in form and degree but not, I think, desire -- is that you just can't get away from the damn bitch. You'll have to excuse my vulgarity, because writing -- novels, screenplays, short stories -- is a freakin' ass bitch that won't. Ever. Leave. You. Alone. You try. You tell yourself "Hey it's a great day, lets go play" but all you do is spend your entire time thinking about what ever it is that you are writing. "Nice shirt, Fred (hey, that's what my character needs is a nice shirt)" "Oh yeah, I enjoyed the movie a lot (Of course what I'm writing now is a thousand times better and will expose that filmmaker for the hack he is.)
Which is not to say that the endless and eternal crack pipe of creative writing is all that reassuring when you are actually writing. No, the damn page stares back at you, extending a large, ivory middle digit harshly into the "God, I fucking suck" MedusaIdontwanna Region of your brain, all the while whispering the most heart pounding, cheek blushing, manhood erecting, praise, perseverance and promise filled words to ever enter that secret place behind your heart.
Crack would actually be an easier bitch to service than creative writing. In exchange for its addiction, it at least blast you through the ceiling giving you total and everlasting nirvana, rather than slyly leading you towards a momentary moment of bliss when as the right word, phrase or scene falls into place then oh so certainly dashing that bliss bloody on the rocky shoals of certain knowledge that you're gonna have to excise that scene, phrase or word because, in the end, it just isn't needed.
So where has Jody been boys and girls?
In hell, kids, in hell.
That's okay. The revision is done, the FedEx box is packed and the transmit slip is all but signed. So I'll have a nice, glorious night or so of rest before my screenwriting class and the script that it demands -- totally and completely unrelated to the one I just revised -- pounds on my door, shouts my name and ho-slaps me happy, all because I haven't provided that particular cold, heartless monster the proper time, energy and fretting that it, the jealous, possessive lover it happens to be, requires of my mortal flesh and everlasting-doesn't-care-that-I'm-an-atheist-and-don't-beleive-in-them soul.
Grrrr.
At least I'll be going to the Sundance Film Festival next week.
With my @#$#@$#@$ laptop so I can keep @#$#@$#@$ @## writing this @!#$@#$#@$#@$ @# other screenplay.
And you know what really burns me??
I wouldn't have it any other way.
Posted by Jody at January 7, 2003 12:24 AM