As I suspected, last week was a furious furore. I don't have much time to dither over posts this week either, but in a nutshell:
Short re-write.
Feature Outline magically writes itself overnight.
Read magic Feature Outline, decipher writing, type up.
Short re-write.
Put magically written Feature Outline in drawer. Adios amigo, for a while. Dust - do your worst.
Attend first brilliant day of aforementioned festival.
Sh*t hits fan via email.
Tear apart Short film idea.
Huff.
Drive Producer up wall.
Return to Festival seminars.
Lose all form of concentration.
Drive Producer up wall.
Return to hotel, take long shower.
Stomp around a lot like a child.
Tear apart Short film idea again.
Drive Producer up wall. Again. He's now on ceiling.
Network on a microcosmic basis with aforementioned blogbuds, joined by Chris Parr, Le Moran & Le Lemon and their prettier halves.
Return to hotel room and work solidly until about 4am.
Breakfast before 8.15am telecon to Script Editor. Couldn't eat. Wasn't hungry anyway.
Absorb Script Editor notes.
Get ready to return to Festival & seminar I'm late for.
Decide to watch TV instead.
Kick self up arse.
Check out of room & carry on working on new beat sheet in bar (it was closed, I may add)
Make decision to quit festival whilst I'm on a roll - Simon Beaufoy will have to wait to meet me another time.
Return to festival for lunch, have quick chats & say goodbye before heading to the station home.
As leaving, start conversation with Really Interesting Bloke who agrees to be the subject matter of a long term Feature Documentary me & WorkGalBud are pulling together. F'cking A.
Leave for home with a spring in my step.
Work like a possessed demon on the train home.
Batter commuters out of way in haste to get home and charge MacBook.
Work like an even bigger demon, flat out all weekend.
New beat sheet, new character breakdowns. New, new, new everything.
Realise my rib is very sore after just being a bit sore last week, and trapped nerve in leg is getting worse.
Find out I have two ribs out of place - have them realigned. Trapped nerve eased with painkillers.
Weigh myself - have lost 7lbs in a week. Joy.
Carry on with new new new everything.
Wait with bated breath.
Realise it's all good.
Onwards and upwards.
Laters, sweeties.
thought you'd got a job in bar for a mintute then...
ReplyDeleteshame you missed simon's talk but i totally understand that lack of concentration when stomach thumping emails arrive...
remember to sleep dear love x
Now, why didn't I think of that? They could have paid me to drink...bugger.
ReplyDeleteOh. Sleep. Forgot that. x
Apart from that, everything OK?
ReplyDeleteTickety-boo, my love! x
ReplyDeleteCrikey all that and you held yourself together so well - externally at least ;)
ReplyDeleteLife at 1000 mph!
I also left before Mr. Beaufoy's slot. I decided it was a good idea to leave for home whilst I was able, rather than leaving later, dozing off at the wheel and killing myself (that wouldn't impress the wife).
Later
C