Through The Never

A few months ago, I was asked "What do you like about writing?". My response? "Nothing."

I surprised myself with that answer, but not as much as the person who asked. Then I thought about it later. Do I actually like writing? Is it fun to type out a story, rewrite it countless times, and suffer over every little nuance until it's ready for public consumption?(which it never is)

And now I know- writing is pain. I go to a place, often for weeks at a time, and live in it. I'm not right, mentally. I'm in a masochistic haze for the length of time I'm writing the screenplay. It's a torturous exercise. Then why do I do it? Well, for one, I have a lot to say, and hundreds of stories to tell. Secondly, the feeling of finishing a draft is among the best feelings I've ever had. And the last reason is, although this will be controversial, I feel there's a certain martyrdom to being a writer. A certain honor, a code if you will. We constantly work to the perfect story, but are constantly reminded that we are not good enough. We should quit. We read something that slaps us back into reality. It blows anything we can or will write out of the water.

So then, you still pile on the effort, the suffering. We are self depreciating of your work in front of others, because, well, we've been told we're not as good. We have been told this by other writers in exactly the same position as our own. We listen to other amateurs for feedback, because that's all we have. Can you imagine being in med school, and asking your fellow classmate to sit in on your first autopsy? No, you would have a real MD there to oversee your efforts. There is very little nurturing in a writers world, because we are in a gladiators circle of self imposed competition.

So why do I do it? Is it the suffering? Is a writer always a masochist? Is there even a problem with that, anyway? Is it the martyrdom angle, taking the bullets to create something in the world, no matter what the cost? Does anyone love the actual writing, or is it all about getting to the end result?

Next time someone asks what I like about writing, I think I'll say 'Everything!' and walk away quickly.

To Whom It May Concern

In my infinite supply of questionable moves, I will finally be changing my URL to the absolutely sensible theconstipatedwriter.blogspot.com. This has now thrown a monkey wrench to those bloggers who can't get enough of my oh so important musings, as now their links for my blog will be faulty.

So, I have decided I will change it on Thursday, so that those interested will read this and make the necessary adjustments.

Sorry all, I maybe should have thought this through back at the start. But like a writer, I had the ending first....

Steroid Over reaction?

I am one of the people who blamed all those gaudy home run numbers on steroids. I still do, I think. But lo and behold, Jason Giambi, the poster boy of steroid abuse(since Bonds is out, "injured") has the same slugging percentage he had two seasons ago when he hit 41 HRs. He now has 18, even after a hideous start this season. Maybe this guy is truly a power hitter. Maybe I was over zealous in my labeling him a big bulbous headed steroid chewing nit wit. I'm beginning to think this whole issue is dead. There are players having huge seasons right now, with steroid testing being randomly applied. Maybe steroids made a slight boost in numbers to great power hitters, but huge power boosts to great contact hitters?

UPDATE 8/03/05: Since this post, Rafeal Palmiero has tested positive for steroids. He was so staunch in his own defense in front of congress, that now he looks like a big time jerk off. Now this makes me wonder. Palmeiro started the season horrendously. It's only been the past month or two that he has hit with any power. Same with Giambi, who is absolutely ripping the ball. Could they have restarted their steroid use after they were randomly tested? It seems very suspicious to me, to say the least. Giambi is now hittin as well as he ever has. Maybe he should be tested again shortly.

I Was To See Wedding Crashers

However, due to the sickening amount of annoying humans wading into the theatre, we turned back and instead went out to eat. Then we bought 3 movies and watched them in the comfort of our idiot-cleansed abode. And please, people, leave your F'ing cell phones, children and any other object of potential annoyance to mankind in your minivan, lest risk a man telling you, in not so kind a manner, to please shut your ignorant mouths. No wonder I have refused to go to the theatre for the past 4 or 5 years. When will we get a theatre that caters to film lovers, not Hollywood lemmings that flock to any movie because the trailer looked 'hot'.

I am also having apocalyptic nightmares recently, about a nuke being set off in Wisconsin of all places. I may touch on my semi self-inflicted paranoia, and my beliefs in my next post, which may or may not be tonight. I am afraid to do so as not to alienate my blog friends. Lets just say my beliefs run from conspiracy theorist to illuminati to ...well, you get the idea.

Just A Thought

Would anyone be interested in creating a private forum where we could post our screenplays? I could start one off this blog, and we could password protect it so that only we, or whoever you want, will have access to reading it. It's a little less daunting then submitting it to a huge site like Zoetrope, or Helium for some honest feedback. Plus, we could hold discussions for each screenplay. I don't know, maybe it's too far reaching. But we have a nice little gaggle of people here who frequent each others blogs, so I figured it could be of use. I believe the forum The Artful Writer uses is free, and I could probably use it for our little community if anyone is interested.

A Message To My Recently Finished 1ST Draft

Time - He's waiting in the wings
He speaks of senseless things
His script is you and me boys

Time - He flexes like a whore
Falls wanking to the floor
His trick is you and me, boy

Time - In Quaaludes and red wine
Demanding Billy Dolls
And other friends of mine
Take your time

The sniper in the brain, regurgitating drain
Incestuous and vain, and many other last names
I look at my watch it says 9:25 and I think "Oh God I'm still alive"

We should be on by now
We should be on by now

La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la (repeat)

You - are not a victim
You - just scream with boredom
You - are not evicting time

Chimes - Goddamn, you're looking old
You'll freeze and catch a cold
'Cause you've left your coat behind
Take your time

Breaking up is hard, but keeping dark is hateful
I had so many dreams, I had so many breakthroughs
But you, my love, were kind, but love has left you dreamless
The door to dreams was closed. Your park was real dreamless
Perhaps you're smiling now, smiling through this darkness
But all I had to give was the guilt for dreaming

We should be on by now (x5)
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la (repeat)

Yeah, time!



92 pages in 9 days. I am emotionally drained. I broke down. Literally just lost it when I wrote the last scene. This song was playing just as I started the last paragraph. I was euphoric, but also deeply depressed when it was all over. And I wept like I was going to the electric chair. Good night all.