Right, time to knuckle down. Got to have the first draft of ‘Kapital‘ done by the 27th.
Except, no, wait. Someone has rather helpfully poured tea into my laptop while I’m away from home and I’ve just had to spend four days staring at the completely dead screen of what is now just an expensive paperweight.
“I bought this ipod and haven’t got any songs on it” he says ” Can I borrow your laptop and nick some of your tunes?” he asks.
“Of course you can, just be careful you don’t … you fucking idiot!”
The actual order of events was: he sits down with my laptop and a cup of tea. I go to get the charger to plug it in. I come back, the cup is empty and he points out that the keyboard is ‘a bit wet’; but he has no idea how it happened.
“Did you drink your tea?”
“Yes. … Well, most of it. … Some of it. … No.”
“You spilt it on my laptop, didn’t you?”
He’s dead now. Buried in a shallow grave, marked only with one word: BASTARD.
So here I am, back where I started, with only 10 days left until the deadline. Not only do I not have a laptop for writing on the move, but I’ve also lost the work I’ve already done.
“Did you not back it up?” I hear you cry.
“Fuck you, you smart arsed prick.” would be my stressed response.
I’m confined to my desktop, hoping it goes the distance and doesn’t have one of its semi-regular bouts of shitness. I’m backing up now, believe me. Every twenty seconds.
On a more positive note, something really cool happened this morning. I got word someone wants to do a feature script of mine, someone who’s very, very famous in the UK and completely unheard of anywhere else. The part was written specifically for him, and he wants to do it. I’m very excited, I probably shouldn’t be, but I am.
Can you guess who it is?
I bet you can’t.
In fact I know you can’t and I’m not allowed to tell you even if you did. So there.
Anyway, back to work. Only another 100 or so pages to go. In 10 days, no problem.
Do you know what Don Allen, the producer/director, said when I told him I’d had a little setback?
“Good. You work better under pressure.”
That’s great, thanks very much. I’ll just lop off a hand too, shall I? That’ll really pile the pressure on. And then, 24 hours later, he chimes in with:
“Oh, sorry to hear about your laptop.”
Yes, so am I; but not nearly as sorry as the bloke what done it in. Bastard.