No more

Right, that’s it. No more procrastinating, no more dithering, no more picking aimlessly at bits of script.

In short, no more fannying around.

It seems to me I’ve achieved nothing particularly useful (writing wise) in the last half a year or so and have spent far too long not doing it. So no more.

From now on I’m back to just knuckling down and getting on with … oh look, Stargate’s on.

No, God damn it! No more Stargate. No more Simpsons. No more Battlestar Galactica … well, maybe I’ll just finish season 2 and then … definitely no more.

Except maybe season 3.

But after that, back to work baby.

With a vengeance.

Is there a season 4?

No, fuck season 4.

Work!

The script I’ve been picking randomly at since September – that’s going to be finished by March the 4th at the latest. No, shut up, no excuses. It’s going to be finished by March the 4th. Do you hear me, me? Am I listening to myself?

Why March the 4th? Because that’s when the meeting for the final(ish) set of notes for the final(ish) draft of  ’til Death is. And after March the 4th, I’m going to be busy with the final(ish) draft, obviously.

After that I’m working on a new script based on an old idea which has once again reared its malformed and, frankly, just plain weird head. It’s got everything – sex, death and … um … fish.

Actually, not so much fish. Mostly just sex and death.

Without the sex.

Okay, it’s just a lot of death.

But it’s got the whiff of sex all the way through it (which I’ve always thought smells a bit like telephones – you know, the old dial up ones). The treatment feels like the characters might spontaneously burst into sex at any minute … but probably won’t.

In fact they don’t. I know they don’t. I wrote the treatment. Four fucking years ago.

So no sex.

Just death.

And Nazis.

But not real ones.

Maybe in Jersey.

The country, not a pullover. That would be weird.

Although probably quite warm.

And that script WILL be done by Easter.

Why Easter?

Why fucking not?

When is Easter?

I don’t care. It will be done by Easter, whenever it fucking is, or there’ll be hell to pay.

If it existed.

Which it doesn’t.

Seriously, when is Easter?

Why did I agree to this?

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Categories: My Way, Random Witterings, Rants, Sad Bastard, til Death | 5 Comments

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5 thoughts on “No more

  1. Darren

    Hah! Thanks for making my morning. Funny… very funny.

    So, sex smells like plastic and old wiring?

    And I don’t know when Easter is either. It moves around… like some kind of stealth holiday. I’m sure I missed Pancake Day too…

  2. Oh look… kittens!

  3. I will have to give you this. You are one of the most productive among scriptwriters who also blog.

  4. Sadly it’s all quantity and rarely any quality.

  5. 10th to 13th April is Easter weekend.

    You really didn’t want to know that, did you.

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