Saturday, 30 March 2013


Shamefully, I have written barely 20 pages of script in the last twelve months. I'm not sure why, or where it went, but I seem to have lost my inspiration. This time a year ago I had not long since put the finishing touches to the first draft of a horror screenplay. I was so proud of myself to have finished it. It only took me a couple of months to write, which for me, is record quick time for a feature. I had a few people read the script, some liked it, some didn't. Of course it wasn't perfect. Show me a first draft that is. But it was something. A foundation ready to build upon. 

Except I never built upon it. In fact, thinking about that script right now, I really kind of hate it. The story is weak, the characters are annoying and the third act was rushed. I can't even bring myself to read it again.

This is not an uncommon problem for me. I have always struggled with 'second draft syndrome'. Case in point: Gun Street Girl. My baby. Named after a Tom Waits song, it was one of the first scripts I ever wrote. Definitely the first feature I ever finished a draft of. I started it when I was 20 and didn't finish it until I was 23. Ever since then it has been sitting in a drawer, waiting for me to tackle the second draft. Unlike the horror script, when I think of Gun Street Girl, I don't hate it. At all. I love it. It is like remembering an old friend. Which, I think, is why I am so afraid of it. Because it probably isn't half as good as it is in my head. I can see the characters, the story, the film, play out in my head. And it's perfect. I know that when I pick that script up and read it again, it is going to suck. It will probably suck so bad that I won't want to tackle a second draft. But I feel it is time. Time to man up and re-write that sucka! I owe it to her. I owe it to myself. 

I sit here now, hungover for the second day in a row. Not because I drank two nights in a row, but because that is how much I drank on Thursday. I began drinking at 2:30pm and didn't stop until the sun came up on Friday morning. My body hurts. Maybe that is why I am feeling sorry for myself right now. Maybe that is pretty much how I have spent every weekend for the last twelve months. Maybe I really need to sort my priorities out. Somehow, some way, I need to find my inspiration again.

I am going to be 26 in a couple of weeks. Twenty fucking six! The day after my birthday we are having a party. If our house warming party in January is anything to go by, it is going to be fucking insane. The house was full of people, at least 50% of which none of us that live here actually knew, there was copious amounts of narcotics going around and I didn't go to bed until 2pm the next day. Therefore my whole 'sorting of priorities' is realistically going to have to wait until after said party. It is going to be messy and I am going to hurt afterwards. I know this. But I can't bail on my own freakin' birthday party! And deep down, nor do I want to.

But! After that party, after I have recovered. Once my twenty six year old body has forgiven me. Then shit is going to get real. No more less drinking. Less partying. More writing. Much, much more writing. Gun Street Girl and I are going to throw down. Finally.



  1. The thing about first drafts is that they're kind of supposed to suck. You just spew out all the thoughts in your head and get it written down, so it's basically thought vomit. That's why there is editing. You get to make it progressively less sucky with each revision until you're finally happy with it.

  2. Just when I think I can't adore you any more, you post a Tom Waits song.

    To sum up MY 26th birthday party...the next day I had a panic attack in Cindy's car because I was so hungover that I thought I was going to vomit all over myself. I remember NOTHING from the night. hahahahha

    1. a Tom Waits song off of Rain Dogs** is what I meant to say

    2. Rain Dogs is my favourite Tom Waits album! :D