No promises to keep
I'm dappled and drowsy and ready for sleep.
Yep today is one of those days when the scripts have been delivered, the deadlines met and I can kick off and relax.
Yes I know, I should be getting on with something else. And I did promise my agents six story lines for the new project. And by mid-afternoon I'll probably be bored shitless and get on with that anyway.
But I've a nice rosy glow right now. Not caused by alcohol. I think the script I delivered was pretty good. I could well be proven wrong of course. It's subjective, after all, but after a while you get a sense of what is actually pretty good and what was phoned in.
But the main thing is that right now there is nothing that I HAVE to write. So anything I do write will come straight from the gut. It's from me, for me.
I don't want to give the impression that I dislike writing episodic TV. I love ice cream but I prefer Phish Food to Walls vanilla. I'm also a terminal procrastenator and as such have a semi-permenant feeling of guilt about deadlines. Today I am deadline free. It's like that feeling you get when you finally put that shelf up that you've been promising for weeks.
But the subconcious never really stops. As I typed this I thought of a great line I can use in something and had to break off to write it down. I've always contended that being a writer is a state of mind rather than a profession. Whether you are writing or not you are always a writer.
I recall a story about James Thurber. He and his wife were giving a dinner party. His wife noticed him staring off into space. She slammed the table and shouted 'Stop writing, Thurber!'
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3 years ago