On Juggling...

Yesterday over lunch I was discussing my "2nd job" with a buddy from work.

Right now, things at work are especially busy, so when he learned that I'm actively working on a screenplay with Dave, he was shocked.

"Where do you find the time?" he asked, incredulously.

Unfortunately, though, the tone just wasn't the same as someone who might inquire "What? You work with quadriplegic orphans, teaching them quantum physics? Where do you find the time?!"

Instead - and maybe I'm just being overly sensitive here - his inquiry seemed to carry more of a "So you spend time at work slacking by sneaking in some screenwriting, huh?" vibe.

Now, I'll be honest here... I've certainly taken 15 minutes here, or 30 minutes there, to make some tweaks to work Dave or I have done, while sitting at my desk at the office. That said, its been during my lunch hour. I've never blatantly sat at my desk, ignoring other priorities, so I can crank out the latest scenes in our Voodoo-Zombie/Surfboarding/Little-People/Wagon-Train/Gay-Cowboy opus.

Rather, it typically goes something like this. Dave sends me an updated draft. My turn to write.

I think about what I want to write for a couple of days. Usually this takes place in the shower, or while driving to work, or laying in bed at night. As a working stiff with a wife and a 2 year old kid, those are the only times when my brain isn't pounded with other stuff. I can actually stop, and think, during those times. Probably explains why a lot of my scenes have waterfalls, Howard Stern, or Natalie Portman in them.

Once my ideas are formulated, I then spend a couple of days WANTING to sit down and write, but not actually doing it. "Tonight's the night," I'll tell myself. But that night my kid won't go to sleep in a timely manner. Or Big Brother XVIII premiers on CBS. Or I get drunk and pass out. You know the deal.

But eventually, if I'm patient and sober enough, the perfect storm rolls along.

Last night my wife was exhausted after work. She came home. We ate leftovers. Bathed the kid. And then the two of them conked out in bed, fast asleep.

By like... 8:30!

So I sat, and wrote. And wrote some more. Finally at 1:30am the wife rolled into the living room.

"What the hell are you doing?!" she demanded.

"Writing!" I exalted, thrilled to have put 6 pages to paper.

"Writing to dirty sluts in one of those MySpace chatrooms or something?!" she inquired suspiciously.

"Um... no. Writing the Camel-Rodeo/Lithuanian-twins/Superhero/romantic-comedy that Dave and I have been working on."

"Oh. Well knock it off and come to bed. You have to be at work by 8 tomorrow."

And so I finish the scene, email it to Dave, and shut down the powerbook, knowing that I've done my part, and now I can start nagging Dave again, clawing my way to higher moral ground as the guy who wrote the last scene.

At least until he cranks out his pages in a day, sends it back, and I slog back into battle... juggling work, getting my kid to bed, watching Big Brother XVIII, and drinking.

And, of course, my new favorite past-time. Writing to dirty sluts in one of those MySpace chatrooms or something.

Charlie

Keywords: b movie, Siege, screenwriting, screenplay, scriptwriter, juggling, "MySpace Sluts