I’ve finished the slog of 17 drafts (okay, in actuality, it was more like 8-10), said a temporary goodbye to a script I knew so well.
And now I’m staring at my outline, terrified of how little I know this project, how little I know the characters and setting and scenes. It’s funny. Every time I finish something, I feel I’ve gained a new understanding of how fucking hard and time consuming it is to write. And now, here I am, outline draft 4, and I have to surrender myself to the process all over again. My last script took 9 months, more or less… am I really ready for another 9 months of obsessing over my characters, honing every joke and dynamic and line of dialogue? Can I really handle going through all this again, even if the most likely outcome is a nice, cozy home on my hard drive?
I can. And I will. But it will be hard and require some internal convincing. And some tea, perhaps a lot.
It would be so nice to have a 9-5 job and turn work off when I got home. Too bad that will never be…