I tell you we must die

Trundling along with Unemployed Summer. It is Thursday. I applied for two jobs. One is as an Office Services Clerk in a law firm. That would be a nice job to have, considering I’ve already done it. After writing two cover letters and updating my c.v., I sat around and talked to my mother. Then I watched two episodes of Ab Fab and then Mirrorball. I laughed so hard at the scene where Jane Horrocks sings Alabama Song. That’s one of my all time favorite songs when I’m maudlin in a certain “the piano has been drinking” sort of way. Oh show me the way to the next whiskey bar. I tell you we must die. I tell you we must die.

I am a veritable powerhouse of creativity at the moment, and yet I can’t seem to motivate myself enough to pull my script up and pound away at it. The trouble with the writing process is it’s so solitary. That’s something I like about it as well, but when I’m on my own, making myself sit down and write is that hardest thing to do.

So I write in my blog.

Really though, sitting around watching well written british comedy series is probably part of my creative process. Brit comedies rule the fucking planet. If I was ever to do a comedy series, I would want to do it with the BBC.

But obviously, I must first learn to have good writing habits. I do write everyday, just not on my script. I must start everyday script writing. What troubles me at the moment is I have fifty-five pages and I’m only a third of the way through the plot, which means I’ve got more material than I can use. However, I also realize that I shouldn’t start chopping away at it until I’ve completed the whole first draft. Oh it’s tiring. Plus one of my characters really needs an overhaul, poor transdude. He’s been tokenized, and that’s obviously a problem because he’s woefully unfleshed out.

I am my own worst critic.

I tell you we must die. I tell you we must die.

I’m off to buy two cigs now. I’ll be back later.

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