Monday, May 16, 2016

Mea Culpa or What The Fuck Happened?

This is my first post to this blog in a long time. Too long.


I haven’t been writing.

I’ve been finding ways to avoid writing.

Too tired.
Too busy at work.
Too much theatre.

One of these may be an exaggeration.

Oh, I’ve been ‘writing’. Writing reviews. Writing critiques. Writing status updates. Writing tweets. Writing lists. Writing about not writi—ahem.

It’s a terrible thing to call yourself a writer and not write.

Even worse when you’re half decent at it. I mean, anyone who’s crap at writing can not write with a guilt free conscience.  

But mine has finally gotten the better of me.

(Using ‘gotten’ in a sentence for a start stings).

A quick recap.

The feature script based on a true life story set just after the Great War fell through. Couldn’t agree to terms with the businessman/producer. Great story. Hope it sees the light of day.

The first two episodes of the web series Boondock Alley have been shot. I don’t know how the shoot went or how it will turn out. I haven’t had anything to do with the project after blowing a gasket when I wasn’t invited to the table read with the full cast during pre-production. I also haven’t written any of the supporting material used on the website or on various social media platforms. Nevermind. Hope it goes well. I thought it was a pretty good idea for a series.

The feature script Turbulence. Ah, yes, Turbulence. I sat and re-read the partially rewritten seventh draft at work today during lunch.

Then I wanted to stick an ice-pick in my brain.


It’s pretty good. Leastways it’s getting there. I am mad at myself for not getting on with it. I don’t know why. It pisses me off.

So things have to change.

I’m getting frustrated and angry at myself. I have been sucked back into corporate servitude. Yes, the money is good. Who am I kidding? It’s fucking glorious! I’ll end up going to Sydney twice this year as well as my annual Melbourne musical theatre jaunt because I can afford such extravagances. And I’m good at it. Work that is. Hell, I might even occasionally admit to liking it from time to time though I have become prone to stress lately which is unlike me.

Yes, I love the theatre. If I didn’t I would be monumentally screwed. I saw 138 shows last year. 71 so far this year and checking my diary I’m currently on pace for 131 by year’s end. Total, absolute, marvellous craziness of a magnitude I couldn’t even begin to fathom a few years ago.

I will honour my commitments as an adjudicator and reviewer but my pre-eminent thought and task has to be writing again. I want to finish Turbulence. It will make a great little thriller. I want to start something new. I have no idea what that might be. I don’t care. I just need to write.

My unit has been renovated and now I have a nice space I can write in. I don’t need the excuse of cafes or distraction free zones somewhere, anywhere else. I just need some goddamn fucking discipline.

I’m getting ranty.

I’m sorry.

For not knuckling down and getting on with it. 
For procrastinating. 
For letting setbacks and disappointments cripple me.

That all changes now.