Well. Today I do. Ok. And yesterday. Actually most of last week.
Yeah. That’s fair. Most of last week I pretty much hated writing. And didn’t want to do it. I still don’t think I want to do it.
Things are going WELL. I had a reading this past weekend, I’m having another NEXT weekend. I’ve had meetings with people. People seem to like my writing. That’s GOOD. Right? RIGHT?!
It is.
So, why do I hate writing? I don’t know. It could be that I’ve written a lot, A LOT since the beginning of the year, since we moved to LA and I’m just getting a little burnt out, maybe this hate, this rage, this anger, that’s what it means. Or, because the projects I have to do are rewrites, I just don’t feel like doing them, that I want to move on and do something new… But, then, if that were true, why am I not writing something new…??
Because I hate writing.
Which isn’t true either.
I don’t hate writing. (Though staring at a computer screen for hours on end IS becoming rather annoying, especially when the sun is shining… Not that I want to sit in the sun, I burn. BURN!)
So, what IS going on? I’m not sure. If I had to guess… it’s the rewrites. And I don’t want to do them not because I want to do something new, but because I’m scared. And emotional. Yep. Just admitted that.
I don’t want to mess it up. The goal is to move what I have forward. Towards something better. Towards specific changes. And that means taking something a part and trying to put it back together again without breaking what’s there. Somethings work in these scripts and if I start moving the pieces those things that DO work… might not work. And then… more rewrites… and more rewrites… endlessly spiraling out of control… until it’s an unrecognizable mess.