I’m on the next-to-last paragraph of the outline of a new script, which means two things: I can shave half my beard off, and I can stop spending every night drifting to sleep conjuring ways of making it more complicated. When I’m writing a script, it’s more like I’m wearing it, a smear of words and ideas hanging off me like dryer lint. It’s a mode where you’re never quite “not working”; even in a rest state, you’re background-processing the piece for flaws.
one of the rooms at our manager’s office in Beverly Hills – you could build a house out of these scripts
The beard thing is especially liberating, as I swore I wouldn’t shave until I got these two outlines done, and I’m starting to look like one of the murderers in “Deadwood”. I figure being half-complete means shaving something, so I’m thinking of going with an Abe Lincoln.
Some creatures, like giraffes, come out of the womb looking relatively normal; others, like kangaroos, begin life as misshapen globs of blind Play-Doh, squirming the millimeter miles from womb to pouch. The first crack at a script is more like the latter than the former.
So I ask… and of you got anything exciting half done right now?