I sit at my messy desk, air conditioners making their muted roar outside my window. Above my tiny netbook, with its 9.5" screen dark, the 20" ASUS monitor I use when I'm at home. The monitor looks great, but the difference in size is a bit ridiculous.
I have signed up for the Thirty Days Project. I'm going to write thirty short stories, one a day.
What was I thinking? I have two shows to rehearse, I'm still taking my weekly class with Terry, and of course as soon as I stop having Sunday night rehearsals, I'll be back at The Shelter, bringing in new scripts (that I've written) and monologues (that I've learnt). Somewhere in there I would like to hunt down some paying work. Preferably in front of the camera, but if it's cash for hacking together some sly bit of JavaScript, I'll take that too.
These stories may be very short, indeed.
It has been four years since my Ten Movies in Ten Weeks project. I will enjoy the challenge. But once again I am setting myself up to fail in public. I have promised myself that I will embrace the uncertainty. It's really the only thing that ever works, but it's never quite comfortable.
Last night I wrote a story as a sort of test for myself. It was supposed to take me fifteen minutes to write the first draft, and it was to fill one 8.5 x 11 sheet of paper, no more. But I wrote more. I fell for the character, and her problem, and there was no way to write my way out of it in so short a space. Two and a half pages later, it's not finished. The protagonist is up in the tree, I've thrown some rocks at her, but I haven't figured out how to get her back out of the damned tree again.
I've got to finish that story, post it by midnight Wednesday, and then do it twenty-nine more times.
Wish me luck.
I have signed up for the Thirty Days Project. I'm going to write thirty short stories, one a day.
What was I thinking? I have two shows to rehearse, I'm still taking my weekly class with Terry, and of course as soon as I stop having Sunday night rehearsals, I'll be back at The Shelter, bringing in new scripts (that I've written) and monologues (that I've learnt). Somewhere in there I would like to hunt down some paying work. Preferably in front of the camera, but if it's cash for hacking together some sly bit of JavaScript, I'll take that too.
These stories may be very short, indeed.
It has been four years since my Ten Movies in Ten Weeks project. I will enjoy the challenge. But once again I am setting myself up to fail in public. I have promised myself that I will embrace the uncertainty. It's really the only thing that ever works, but it's never quite comfortable.
Last night I wrote a story as a sort of test for myself. It was supposed to take me fifteen minutes to write the first draft, and it was to fill one 8.5 x 11 sheet of paper, no more. But I wrote more. I fell for the character, and her problem, and there was no way to write my way out of it in so short a space. Two and a half pages later, it's not finished. The protagonist is up in the tree, I've thrown some rocks at her, but I haven't figured out how to get her back out of the damned tree again.
I've got to finish that story, post it by midnight Wednesday, and then do it twenty-nine more times.
Wish me luck.
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