You never know what might happen on the third day

It's easy to get down about Hollywood. It's easy to be frustrated that there's no one who'll just read your damn resumé and a sample script already. Wouldn't that be nice? It's easy to think that nearly impossible is the same thing as impossible.

Especially when you read things like Jane E's post on the three-track approach, or Amanda's post on (not) getting an agent. Um, sorry, but I don't really want to become a cop or write a novel. I want to write TV.

It's easy to feel discouraged when you have bruised ribs and a bad cold and you start having fevered dreams about meeting Joss Whedon who knows your name but doesn't like your attitude. 

It's hard to remember that NOT GIVING UP is half the battle. At least. 

Three great specs and a crapload of tenacity. That's all you need. So hang in there. You never know what might happen on the third day.

Artery cloggery

Well, it's Easter, so you'd think I'd be into the Easter Cream Eggs. To be honest though, the creamy center kind of creeps me out. What do they have to put in there to keep it all gooey? I'd rather not find out. And I'd rather not eat it, too.

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.)