all the gold and the guns in the world couldn't get you off
I actually got Mexico to the end of act one tonight. You've got to bear in mind it's likely a four- or possibly five-act script (and act one runs me 24 pages right now), but still. I got Carter, Martin and Faye into that car and out of the hotel. I set up the structure and got the scenes in a good order, more or less -- it's just a matter of revising and refining the scenes themselves into something good. Having never written action stuff, it's hard to know if I should have made it a closer call, with more peril and danger (and action) but since they have to escape believing they got away with it -- that the police aren't even chasing them -- that's a tough call. I mean, I'm already killing a cop and letting them get away with it. Ah, violence. Just today I was saying I'd rather have a thoughtful shoot-'em-up rather than another whimsical-outsider-boy-and-his-MPDG movie (I'm looking at you, Gigantic, you motherfucker). Well, here's hoping this is one of those.
I bought some books from Powell's totaling over $30, books I had planned on getting from Amazon.com for easily ten bucks less, because of the whole #amazonfail thing, and then it starts to look like a legitimate "glitch". That's actually fantastic news (also to note: the GLBT books weren't even the hardest hit, they're just the first and loudest to complain), because like I said, I sure do give a lot of business to the ol' Internet Bookstore Giant. Still, if the news had come out one day sooner I'd have ten more bucks in my bank account. Just as well, I suppose. Gave me something to do today.
I wandered around downtown after work, writing in hour or ninety-minute jags at various places I was. The Pioneer Place underground food court, the Pioneer Square Starbucks, the Pizza Schmizza on Taylor. It's actually proven a good way to do it, since I have a tendency to write for a bit then need to walk it off, flex, pace, zone out, talk to someone, eat something, do something else, then come back and hit the next hump. The pattern of writing, not overstaying my welcome, writing elsewhere, moving on, etc., has the same effect, only I buy more iced teas. You win this round, Starbucks.
But due to that I managed to write 24 pages I don't despise -- I'd say mostly dislike -- and I wrote myself enough notes to maybe carry this momentum halfway or all the way through the end of act two. If I could get that far by this weekend -- especially if I could get that far by Thursday's Writing Group -- I would feel a lot better about the prospects of getting a draft by May 1.
This was supposed to be my easy, belt-it-out script, after all.
Anyway that's all. Going to go pick up a probably-weird book, read in the bath, let my mind not think about hoodlums making a getaway run across the southwest, and then probably get some sleep. Probably to the tune of a Futurama episode or two.
'Night.