This month is whizzing by.
I’ve officially started the final re-write of my screenplay. I have until Wednesday to sort most of the problems out. I spent the early afternoon critting a friend’s script and then listening to my poor screenplay being dissected. It depressed me, but there was much good information imparted. The script, when it is completed, will be the better for it.
In a move that Martin described as “You like to keep yourself busy, don’t you?” I started an online screenwriting course last weekend. I’m trying to keep up with the daily assignments. This was particularly hard last week when I was consumed with entertaining very dear friends from the USA. It only gave me the wee hours of the night to keep up. Sleep suffered. Nothing new there.
When I returned today from my script vivisection, I fired up the laptop and began tackling the re-write. I hope I’m making things better… Then I completed my assignment for today.
Good Maura. You get a biscuit (actually, a piece of raspberry cheesecake that Martin bought for me a couple of days ago).
Goodness knows if I’ll be able to keep up this pace. Thursday I’m off to London for FrightFest, which should be fantastic. My laptop will accompany me; perhaps only to taunt me, but if I don’t bring it I’m sure I will feel guilty.
I’ll have one day, the 31st, to typo-hunt, and finish the last polish of the script. Then I’ll hit print on September 1st, and my year as a MA student will be over. Then it’s a matter of waiting for a result. I’ll also be able then to focus fully on this current course.
Worldcon… oh yes. I posted a précis on Babblogue. I enjoyed the convention overall, and I had a good time with old friends and new. I got a decent snapshot of the current state of sf-f publishing, and it was a pity that I haven’t had the time to concentrate on the short story/novel end of my writing spectrum lately. At least I have an idea of the state of play, and hopefully I’ll get cracking on that side of my writing brain after September. I have stories to polish, new ones to write, markets to ply with my work, and eventually rejections to cry over. Maybe even an acceptance…
Steady on there girl… optimism is a dangerous trait in a writer. Jaded cynicism is a better veneer for the inner scribbler who just wants to be liked.