Saturday, February 16, 2013

No One Like Me



Notes from the WALK

Is mine a singular genius? Is this idea I have as miraculous as it seems? These thoughts course through my brain as my feet lead me home. 

It is a movie idea; one I’ve had for years. The opening scene has been scripted and plotted since day one. It was the seed; germinated but somehow not sprouted. It rests in outline form in one of three notebooks I keep for such things. God, I hope I can find it.

I birthed the climactic scene about six months ago. It is still in my head, fully realized, if not documented. I feel I could pour it onto a page at a moment’s notice, if need be. Need, in this case, is apparently a producer making such a demand? Perhaps it is time to redefine need

Until now, the rest of the movie hasn’t existed. Actually, it has existed in the sense that I’ve always known there was a whole movie there. It’s just that I had only two scenes in mind. Sometimes that’s all you need. A beginning and an end.

But today, on the WALK, the rest of the movie took shape. I now know what has to happen; how to get from beginning to end. I know what it’s about, what’s at stake. Scenes take shape. Characters emerge. This is the most exciting part of the creative process, as far as I know. 

Suddenly, I’m scouting locations in my mind. I’m contemplating shooting schedules. We could do the location work in the City in two weeks with maybe four days of second unit. Then we could do all the interiors on set in LA. Yeah. That’ll keep the budget down. By the time I emerge from under the bay tree canopy, this baby will be in the can.

Except it won’t. 

I’ve had this idea for three years. 36 months to work on it. 156 weeks to polish the script. 1095 days to raise money. All wasted. 26,280 hours have come and gone since the idea struck me and even after today’s breakthrough that is all it is. An idea. 

Is mine a unique brand of self-delusion? What if underachievement is my superpower? These thoughts weigh on my mind as I arrive home. 

Wow. That was quick.

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