The writing section of my To Smite List is the most barbaric, because it demands hours and hours of sitting in front of the radiation screen otherwise known as a laptop monitor, begging the muse to caress me with her voluptuous bosom. For a little bit today, she did.
I'm still working on the superhero script (M on the To Smite List). Deadlines keep getting pushed back further and further, but today, for a brief moment, I had some clarity. I let the muse channel some great visual, flowing material through my fingers and onto the page. And then I sat back, took a look at it, imagined my writing group tearing it apart, realized that there was no way this scene would work, and have been unable to continue today. Looking at the next two weeks of erratic employment, I wonder how I will ever get this thing to a point where I will be happy with it. I feel that this script alone will make or break my career as a writer. No pressure, right?
I'm still working on the superhero script (M on the To Smite List). Deadlines keep getting pushed back further and further, but today, for a brief moment, I had some clarity. I let the muse channel some great visual, flowing material through my fingers and onto the page. And then I sat back, took a look at it, imagined my writing group tearing it apart, realized that there was no way this scene would work, and have been unable to continue today. Looking at the next two weeks of erratic employment, I wonder how I will ever get this thing to a point where I will be happy with it. I feel that this script alone will make or break my career as a writer. No pressure, right?
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