Day 41

13:15

Woke up rearing to go, had a look at my e-mails, and now I'm already pissed off.

There are a lot of jack-asses in this line of work. People who will cold-contact you and call themselves producers because they made a three minute short with a couple of their rich friends. They invariably have a better upbringing than you, and let you know it. They tell you 'I'm going to a big film festival, (one that you would like to go to but can't afford) I want to take projects from people like you...'

So like a fucking moron, you send them some of your work. You fall into the trap. These people are never going to help you. All they really want is to feel important - that their voices were important to a bunch of different 'little people' writers and directors. And you realise this with oh-so-cold clarity when, out of the blue, you get a bunch of facetious fucking notes from them about something you've written, telling you 'I don't think you format quite right', you should 'concentrate on characters' and 'try checking out the kind of thing they do on Channel 4'.

And you think to yourself, 'When did I become a first-time writer again? When did this jackass become Scott Rudin?' But before you have a chance to respond, they've swanned off to that fucking film festival you couldn't afford to go to.

I'm not a, 'Do you know who I am? Do you know what I've done?' kind of guy, but seriously. A lecture on writing by a man who's produced one three-minute film?

I've said it before, I'll say it again. Networking is for cunts.

21:15

Ah, the circle of fortune. One day your having snowball fights and eating cupcakes, the next your ankle-deep in broken dvd drives and computers that won't do what they're fucking told for nine continuous hours.

How much writing have I been able to achieve so far? A measly hour. This month has not been good for achieving things over a reasonable timeframe in daylight hours. In fact, so far, this month has not been very good for achieving anything at all. But this is going to change right now.

Back to the word processor.

03:45

My finishing times are just getting later and later. Still haven't quite finished the new plot outline: plotted out 74 scenes now, and just reaching the third act (which means each of these scenes is going to have to be short.)

I found out an interesting little tidbit today: St Expeditus is the Catholic Saint invoked against procrastination. I wonder if there's a saint invoked against problematic screenplays.

Eyelids hurt. Going to bed now. The birds have started to sing outside. I hope tomorrow sucks a few less gopher balls.

word count: 2,023
hours writing: 4.5
suck-o-meter counter: 8.5