04/30/08 Because of a multitude of reasons - laziness being the most prominent - I find myself on the last day of Script Frenzy with fifty-one pages yet to write. But I've decided, after humming and haaing for some time, to just complete it. I'm to sit down after this and figure out the rest of the scenes and after that, write for the next fourteen ( Read more... )

I've been procrastinating all day, excited for Script Frenzy but also paralyzingly nervous. I've decided to go ahead with This Picture; extensive planning late last night and a suggestion by lallyloo having set my mind towards it.

I'm still not completely ready, I find myself a stranger to my characters. This year I've plotted far more ( Read more... )

Yet again, I find myself cursing my own indecisiveness ( Read more... )

You Won ( Read more... )

Two days left of November, of Nanowrimo, and I have 15354 words yet to write. Where has this past month gone? I feel like there should be at least another week left, that this can’t possibly be the end. But I suppose it is, no matter how much I wish it wasn’t so. I can’t say exactly what I feel as Nanowrimo nears its close; sadness that it is over ( Read more... )

Humph. I was minding my own business, listening to songs off Le Fabuleux destin d'Amélie Poulain when the Father came into the backroom and poked his head over the computer desk, "What is it, polka time?" and then proceeded to dance the polka by himself. Oh, har-har. How is it that no one seems to appreciate the genius of Amélie besides myself ( Read more... )

I find myself in a rather tricky predicament. Do I finish my script or do I not? It's become perfectly clear to me that I am a far better novelist than I am a scriptwriter. I am more comfortable writing long rambling paragraphs about people and places than I am writing witty dialogue. And alas, scripts are supposed to be full of witty dialogue ( Read more... )

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Bah. Am all teary-eyed and weepy. No more Alias, woe. I don't know what I'm going to do with myself now.

Actually, I do know. I'm writing a novel with a character based on the scrumptiously snarky Sark.

But still, Alias was such a brilliant show. They totally shouldn't have stopped it at season five.

Ugh. I am so ruddy restless. I feel like going on a rampage and destroying everything in sight. Bah! BAH!

Ten minutes ago I was in a swoon like state and now I feel like crap. How is it I lose all motivation and creativity after writing one bloody paragraph? Frustration, I am drowning in frustration!

Bollocks bollocks bollocks.