It's been a hell of a week. I'm hyperfocused and immersed. I'm scouring these recent vivid dreams of extraneous scenes that make no sense for any useable media. My girlfriend is responding well to disappearing from my local attention span.
I'm on the home stretch of revisions and I'm feeling the rush. It took a couple days of frustration on the front end but once I rearranged that mess it was easier to get down to business. I'm in the pipe, five by five.
With every revised scene I feel that much closer to finishing, that is until I come to the next one. I have to avoid the common mistake of getting confused by the chaos that lies ahead of me and instead focus on the immediate action, the line after this line, and the mood of the moment. Do that enough and before you know it you don't have any more to do - that is, until the next pass.
At the production meeting this past Saturday I told everybody I'd be done with this draft on Tuesday, which I knew (and knew that they all knew that I knew that it) wasn't going to happen. Well, maybe if you consider up to dawn on Wednesday still being kinda Tuesday. I know that everyone is waiting on the script for the casting and investing processes but until I feel that the story is ready nobody ain't going nowhere. This is my shot, our shot, and I'm not going to pull a half-assed job.
When I wrote my first couple of scripts I not only held on to all my notes but relished their history - all these disjointed scribblings were DNA of a larger beast and should be revered for their significance of contribution. However, as of today I'm over that. I think this is the 10th draft of Love in the Time of Monsters and after this final final final draft I'm considering burning the stack of crumpled notes I've got overwhelming my desk. There will be no past, only future.
That's all for today, thanks for reading, back to work.