$30 is $30
Staying home sick all weekend (with one brief outing for groceries and a $30 book on writing for television, if you believe it). Trying hard to write. Waiting for a couple of phone calls for the Brian Lindstrom thing.
The converter box didn't work for the Pixelvision footage, which at first I thought (another nail in the coffin) meant the tapes were fucked up, but they play back ok (albeit fuzzy/staticky) on the TV. So I'm going to try borrowing someone's DV camera and using it as an intermediary. Push comes to shove I'm going to ask the Taperoom Operator at Laika if I can stay late one night and transfer my goodies there. I'm on reasonably good terms with her, as she's Melissa.
But for now I'm just trying to let it breathe, or more appropriately (since it's lying, metaphorically, in a coma and possibly dying) let me breathe. I've been wrapped up so tight over everything, not the least of which has been Every Room is Empty, I've driven myself sick. I need a weekend. I'm taking it. Too bad it's a sick weekend with sniffles, aches and grumbles.
And so: true to form, I'm using my time to try again to write something. This time (refer to the above book purchase) I'm trying to structure Uncanny Valley into a serial script, either as a TV series or a web series. The production end of it doesn't interest me right now, just purging this long-festering idea from my brain and putting it into the right-sized container. Plus I think the challenge of writing with a very different motive in mind, not to mention scene structure, will help me as a writer.
Since I don't have DVDs of Deadwood or Carnivale, and I sold my box-sets of early Sopranos seasons (I remember telling myself: one day I will regret this, but $30 is $30), I am rewatching season 1 of Heroes as a way of thinking inside the serial structure. To be fair, it holds up on second watching, even if it's still really melodramatic.
There is a cat who is happily putting my leg to sleep. My neck hurts from craning over this laptop. But sitting back on this futon and relaxing beats all day in that office chair.
Tonight, if I'm up for it, I may go to the Northwest Fest's "Shorts III" program, featuring a film by Amy O'Brien (Four, the only film I think that beat Open to going from writing group to produced film) and one by Andy Blubaugh (The Pull). Friends are going. Hopefully the crummy sickness will subside.
In the meantime, back to Heroes and drawing out arcs for Uncanny Valley.
The converter box didn't work for the Pixelvision footage, which at first I thought (another nail in the coffin) meant the tapes were fucked up, but they play back ok (albeit fuzzy/staticky) on the TV. So I'm going to try borrowing someone's DV camera and using it as an intermediary. Push comes to shove I'm going to ask the Taperoom Operator at Laika if I can stay late one night and transfer my goodies there. I'm on reasonably good terms with her, as she's Melissa.
But for now I'm just trying to let it breathe, or more appropriately (since it's lying, metaphorically, in a coma and possibly dying) let me breathe. I've been wrapped up so tight over everything, not the least of which has been Every Room is Empty, I've driven myself sick. I need a weekend. I'm taking it. Too bad it's a sick weekend with sniffles, aches and grumbles.
And so: true to form, I'm using my time to try again to write something. This time (refer to the above book purchase) I'm trying to structure Uncanny Valley into a serial script, either as a TV series or a web series. The production end of it doesn't interest me right now, just purging this long-festering idea from my brain and putting it into the right-sized container. Plus I think the challenge of writing with a very different motive in mind, not to mention scene structure, will help me as a writer.
Since I don't have DVDs of Deadwood or Carnivale, and I sold my box-sets of early Sopranos seasons (I remember telling myself: one day I will regret this, but $30 is $30), I am rewatching season 1 of Heroes as a way of thinking inside the serial structure. To be fair, it holds up on second watching, even if it's still really melodramatic.
There is a cat who is happily putting my leg to sleep. My neck hurts from craning over this laptop. But sitting back on this futon and relaxing beats all day in that office chair.
Tonight, if I'm up for it, I may go to the Northwest Fest's "Shorts III" program, featuring a film by Amy O'Brien (Four, the only film I think that beat Open to going from writing group to produced film) and one by Andy Blubaugh (The Pull). Friends are going. Hopefully the crummy sickness will subside.
In the meantime, back to Heroes and drawing out arcs for Uncanny Valley.