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.
In other words… 
