The Beauty of Youth

If you've read even a single post over the last month or so, you know that I'm woefully overdue in my pass at some rewrites on the untitled German-porn/workplace-comedy/outback-western. Woefully.

And I swear by all that's holy, this weekend I've blocked off half a day of time to get over this hump and do my part.

But in the meantime, I find myself distracted. You see, I've started work on something new. All by myself, no Dave. Yeah. A new screenplay.

The allure of a new script. Its young, and fresh, and full of promise. A metaphorical stack of 100+ pages of virginal-white paper, just waiting to absorb new ideas.

When I'm writing something new... putting an idea to paper for the first time... its like breathing cleaner air. The sun is brighter. Children play in meadows. Puppies lick your face.

You've got a whole world you can explore together with your new story. No boundaries. No conventions. No limitations. It can be anything.

Whereas the untitled roller-disco/puppet-show/Roaring-20's-musical is a harsh mistress. I know it. It knows me. I want tentacle monsters, it wants something else. Who knows what, but God-help-me, I'll find out.

We've come a long way, together with Dave. But now they both give me dirty looks when they think I'm not looking. Rolling their eyes and "tsk tsk"ing. Judging me.

So Saturday its ON. Tentacle scene? As good as gone, and in its place, something new. Bold. Dramatic. Ah. who am I kidding. At this point I'm just looking to find something Dave thinks will be a passable replacement in his agent's assistant's lawnboy's eyes. But Saturday I'll be finding it.

But don't judge me when, come Monday, I'm staring, moon-eyed, at the new screenplay...

Wondering how long until I f*ck it up.

- Charlie