It's been a long week and it's only Tuesday. I'm still trying to hunt down Stults for this interview. We came close last week and it fell through. I think that the only way it's going to happen is if I find him in some bar and corner him. Alas, I shall keep trying.
Blood Brothers has fallen apart. I'm a bit disappointed, but not surprised after what I was going through with the option agreement. Tony and I still plan to try and make it ourselves. We'll see how that goes. Still, this is one that I just won't let go. There's too much of Brookshire in it to let someone else go in and fuck around with the story.
Great Strides is this week and I don't know if I'm distracted or not. I'm feeling anxious, as if I should be writing, but I can't get motivated. I'm starting to get pissed off at myself (as you can tell by the number of expletives tht are flying out of my mouth... er keyboard). Where is that drive I had years ago. The desire? Truth is, I was really inspired months ago when I came across the radio book. I should have just jumped on that train and ridden the momentum through a first draft. What the hell was I thinking?
Oh yes, I remember. I needed to write a script that would sell. So I went off and wrote a script I thought would sell and there it sits ion the fucking trash can along with one thousand other ideas I always wanted tow rite but never had the time to get to. I know that this anger and bitterness and downright disgust in myself stems, in part, from the fact that I'll have been graduated from high school 20 years this June.
Twenty years? What do I have to show for it. And don't you throw a "feature film" or a "Lifetime movie" back in my face. My goal is to write full time. Yet, I know... I KNOW. Good Christ, how I know that writing full time isn't in the cards right now.
Tears of anger are hovering around the edges of my eyes. Am I crying for my son or myself? If I say myself, I'm a selfish prick. If I say my son, then there shouldn't be any tears because the sacrifices I make for him outweigh any professional dreams or goals I may have at this point in time. It should be enough that people are reading my writing at Popdose and here at thunderbolt. It should be enough that I have some people expressing interest in working with me as a screenwriter. It should be. But I have a gaping hole in my stomach... is that my ego? Does my damn ego have a hole in it?
I am a selfish prick. I need to work on that.
Blood Brothers has fallen apart. I'm a bit disappointed, but not surprised after what I was going through with the option agreement. Tony and I still plan to try and make it ourselves. We'll see how that goes. Still, this is one that I just won't let go. There's too much of Brookshire in it to let someone else go in and fuck around with the story.
Great Strides is this week and I don't know if I'm distracted or not. I'm feeling anxious, as if I should be writing, but I can't get motivated. I'm starting to get pissed off at myself (as you can tell by the number of expletives tht are flying out of my mouth... er keyboard). Where is that drive I had years ago. The desire? Truth is, I was really inspired months ago when I came across the radio book. I should have just jumped on that train and ridden the momentum through a first draft. What the hell was I thinking?
Oh yes, I remember. I needed to write a script that would sell. So I went off and wrote a script I thought would sell and there it sits ion the fucking trash can along with one thousand other ideas I always wanted tow rite but never had the time to get to. I know that this anger and bitterness and downright disgust in myself stems, in part, from the fact that I'll have been graduated from high school 20 years this June.
Twenty years? What do I have to show for it. And don't you throw a "feature film" or a "Lifetime movie" back in my face. My goal is to write full time. Yet, I know... I KNOW. Good Christ, how I know that writing full time isn't in the cards right now.
Tears of anger are hovering around the edges of my eyes. Am I crying for my son or myself? If I say myself, I'm a selfish prick. If I say my son, then there shouldn't be any tears because the sacrifices I make for him outweigh any professional dreams or goals I may have at this point in time. It should be enough that people are reading my writing at Popdose and here at thunderbolt. It should be enough that I have some people expressing interest in working with me as a screenwriter. It should be. But I have a gaping hole in my stomach... is that my ego? Does my damn ego have a hole in it?
I am a selfish prick. I need to work on that.
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