After putting my son to bed tonight, I sat down and started writing. I actually started writing. I've been warned off treating this like some sort of pivitol moment in human history (even though it feels like exactly that), so I'll be brief. It's only four and a half handwritten pages--I'm doing this old school for now--but it's the biggest step I've taken yet. It's going the way I want it to, the flow of the story, I mean. Some of the actual writing is crap, and it doesn't really read like me, but I can go back and edit that later. For now, I'm going to keep going, little by little, until I have the flow of the story down pat. I'll go back and fix the language later.
But it's started, so I'm happy.
Observations, rants, and plausible
deniability from a person who refuses
to be a prisoner of his own world.
deniability from a person who refuses
to be a prisoner of his own world.
The Village
I AM WRITING!
My Screenplay -- Draft Three
I'm currently reading:
On my Kindle 2
I'm listening to:
iTunes Radio
I'm driving:
The Honda FCX Clarity
