When it Feels Good

There's nothing better than handing off a newly-finished portion of the script to Charlie.

Well, yes. Sex is good. And a good burger, I like good burgers. And anything to do with my kids.

But you get the point.

I did my bit and passed the buck to Mr. Charlie. The pygmy/toxic/lesbian/political thriller script is coming along nicely. Though it may be too long. We're on page 80, and we've got a bunch of big scenes to write. So we'll write what we want, then cut out 50 pages until it's a happy 95-105 pages. Shouldn't hurt too much. I'll just cut all of Charlie's stuff, anyway.

Now, of course, there is this added element because while we're still pretty much writing for ourselves, there's the knowledge that My Manager will read the finished product and possibly push it to Sci-Fi Channel if she likes it. So pressure, pressure, pressure.

Meanwhile, Producer Dude is.. oh who really cares. We've got a script. He hasn't got any money. Read any post in the last few months and you'll get the gist of the latest news.

We're sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo close.

Sorry for the short post, but I'm plum out of ideas. Spent them all on the kick-ass scene I just wrote and gave to Charlie.

Peace, out.

And God Bless Natalie Portman.

(By the way, I'm not spell-checking this entry because my computer is spinning and I'm impatient. Deal with it. It's blogging without a net.)