Friday, March 09, 2007
I'm working on a couple of different projects right now, one for a class and another is a collaboration with a friend of mine who graduated from NYU Film in '05. In both scenarios, I'm far enough into the writing of the actual script, and far enough away from the laborious prewriting stages that I'm willing to officially state that I'm past the point of no return.
There is no turning back. Both must see themselves to fruition.
It's exciting, but it's scary. And distracting. And annoying. And great.
As it's such a visual medium, I find that I'm always working through the words in my head until the picture becomes clear. From a literary standpoint, I can start a scene knowing what I want to write, but the actual execution, the physical manifestation of the text, can be altered by the simple clarity of the moving image. It's that quest, to be able to see what I'm working on, that tends to consume me.
It's like a drug because the moment the picture is right there, there is an overwhelming urge to drop everything and get my ass in front of a computer (even better if it has Final Draft). Even then, after writing the scene to the point where it meets my own ridiculous standards, after I'm laughing at the jokes on the page and feeling for the characters, knowing that it's the perfect segue to the next big sequence, the story lingers in my head, leaving me waiting for the next big image to strike.
It's lovely and addictive, and I'm at a point where I fancy the idea of being able to sit down for 7 to 8 hours a day to write. However, that's not an option, and so the snail continues to crawl, and the advice of writing teachers urging that it's okay to write just one page a day sounds on par with verbal torture.
If there's a conclusion to be drawn, I can't yet grasp it. I'm sure all of this is okay and typical. And while the time spent to write this might have been better spent working on at least a couple pages of either script, I have no problem using this infinite white space, brought about by the code of someone who looks at html and seizes, to vent, to clarify, and to share.