At the North Col, low on O2

It was all going so well. It really was. Then everything. Stopped.

My second act is gnawing at the inside of my brain, like tiny mice on a lump of moldy cheese. Is it really set up right? Will it capture the attention of an audience? Is anybody going to care what happens to these characters?

I know exactly what happened. The second scene of my second act was supposed to be a showstopper. Fun. Funny. Action-packed. An exciting harbinger of things to come.

Instead it's just flat. Dull. Boring. Lacklustre. Unshiny. Boooo.

So for the last week, instead of writing whatever comes next, I've been rolling this one scene over in my mind, trying to elevate it to the lofty place I imagined. I'm so far away from that goal... the scene is at base camp, I want it to summit. Damn, I'm gonna need more oxygen.

Of course this leads to all kinds of new questions. Like: Why should I bother? What's so great about being a screenwriter anyway? Do I even have what it takes? Maybe I should go watch TV instead?

Which is why I love the internet. What would I do without the other writers out there sharing their doubts and torments?

Mr Man Bytes Hollywood and his faithful commentors have given me a boost. As has Ms Bootstrap. So go have a look and then get back to work.

And all you bloggers out there, keep writing... so I can keep writing!

Slacker excuses:
My Mom came to visit. We ate, we shopped, we conquered. (I bought some new comfy writing clothes from Lululemon. Hurrah.)

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