The Second Coming

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

    -- William Butler Yeats

So, I didn’t cross the Script Frenzy finish line. I didn’t make it to 100 pages. In fact, I’m only about 1/2 done (51) pages.

I didn’t work as dilligently as I could have. I did, however keep the story from morphing too much and stuck to my treatment.

It will definitely need a re-write. The beginning is somewhat devoid of my personal style, which pushed it’s way to the fore as the month progressed, so the beginning and middle are different in flavor.

I also learned more about the characters as time progressed.  Now, this is a natural

occurance, even desirable, as long as the added character depth doesn’t make the script

too much longer.

I will finish this. I can’t work on it this weekend though. I have work work to do.

And so it begins. Come hell or high water I’ll have something compete by the end of the month.

Wish me luck!

1. Take miserable care of your body, your relationships, your finances and everything in your life. Avoid anything that would make you happy — artists have to suffer.
2. Understand that you can only possibly write with your mind is relaxed and untroubled by other concerns. So if there’s anything else at all you ’should’ be doing, do it instead. For greatest efficiency, just thrash and worry about what you should be doing instead of actually doing anything — that way you can endlessly reuse the exact same things!
3. You know it’s impossible to make a living writing, so have a day job you hate that leaves you mentally, physically and emotionally exhausted. After work, you’ll be in no shape to write, so have some ice cream and watch TV. You deserve it.
4. Invent endless constraints regarding under what circumstances you could get writing done. You need your own office. A special desk. A special pen. Absolute quiet. A certain computer. Spend more time complaining about the lack of these circumstances than actually writing.
5. You’ll be able to get plenty of writing done when you’re independently wealthy and have lots of free time. Just wait till then.
6. There are thousands of writing books. Better read them all before you start. One of them has got to have the secret. (Be sure to skip all the exercises.)
7. Let’s face it, you don’t know enough to be a writer. You’ve never even read [insert famous literary work here]. Better get to it, or no one will take you seriously.
8. Surround yourself with people who are jealous of your time, disrespect your writing and undermine you at every turn. If possible, marry one and have kids.
9. If you actually fail at all of the above, and actually sit down to write, make sure each word, each sentence is perfect before you move on — compare it to your favorite writers’ published works (you don’t think people with talent have to rewrite, do you?) and attack it with all the viciousness of your cruelest and bitterest teachers.
10. Give up as soon as it seems hard or you feel uninspired. After all, if it were real art, it would flow smoothly and be easy.
11. Whatever you do, don’t finish anything. Just keep starting new fragments. (Any ideas prior to your latest suck anyway.) Or endlessly torture your existing manuscripts until you drain them of any vitality they might once have had.
12. If you do finish something, immediately share it with someone who can be counted on to tear it apart, tell you you’re wasting your time, and imply you’re an idiot for ever imagining you could write. Believe this person — s/he wouldn’t say it if it weren’t true.
13. Be sure you never actually submit your work for publication. Take the decision out of the editors’ hands: reject it for them.
14. If a story gets rejected, don’t send it anywhere else — obviously it was no good. In all likelihood, you aren’t either: be sure not to pass up the opportunity to consider giving it all up.
15. If, in an extreme case of failing at the above, you’ve actually published something, know that it was just a fluke. Never ever believe in yourself.

Thanks, Zed.