Oh, whoa is me. I've decided to write a 1/2 hour comedy. No longer writing a one-hour show. I'll leave that to the greats. Also known as: experienced writers. I have two bald patches on my head. I've successfully pulled my hair out in the exact shape of my fist on both sides. Sexy, I know.
There's good news and bad news about this process. The good news is: I'm officially in love with this work. How do I know? I'm totally depressed, frustrated, angsty and overwhelmed. Also: nauseous, grumpy and weepy. If you knew me you'd know that meant I was really in my element. I think in my whole baby career as a writer I've never wanted so badly to create something great. I say that every time, but THIS time I really, really mean it. It keeps me up at night, it's all I talk about (even when I'm talking about something else), everywhere I look I'm hoping for inspiration, expecting to see or hear something that will prove to be the missing link in my Uber Premise. Then, there's the bad news: I'm locking up a little. I've brain dumped myself into a stupor, I've tried then retried idea after idea, flipping back and forth between character and premise conceits, changed writing locations, wore my lucky cowboy hat, cut cheese from my diet (again), started meditating in the steam room, joined a writer's group, left the writer's group, prayed, visualized...then today: I cried. Can you believe it? Pull it together Amanda, it's a SPEC PILOT. Perspective Police! Perspective Police!
Part of the reason I love Jane Espenson's blog is that she's so wonderfully unemotional. Just fun, bouyant light-hearted facts about the challenging but delightful world of writing. I picture her in cozy jammies, adding honey to her tea, tiny birds flitter around her, fresh berries in a bowl on her desk, light streaming through her office window as she blogs, every so lightly, about yet another letter from a gentle reader in Croatia. Cut to me: tufts of hair missing, dark circles under my eyes, breath reeking of almonds and self doubt.
Someday I will meet Jane. I will treat her to several stuffed jalapenos from Jack in the Box, I will look deeply into her wise eyes and beg to the know the secret of her angstlessness.
I'm going home to Oregon for a vaction. 5 days. Regroup. Recharge. Be one with the main characters in my real world. Thank God for them.
Words I Wish I had Written: "You can do it!" (My mom.)
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