I’ve completed the script. A day ahead of schedule.
It’s time to crack open a bottle of sparkling wine.
Outside my window a freezing fog has descended. My garden is unearthly. I could imagine wolves howling in the background, or a mysterious character emerging from the still mist. It’s entirely appropriate for the tone of the last scene of the script.
Something completely unexpected happened in my final scene. I surprised myself. I think it’s a nice touch, but since this is a first draft, and I’ve just completed it, my perspective could be skewed by my current state of euphoria.
In a couple of days I could decide everything in it stinks.
Yet, I loved writing this script. Even if it never sells, or no one else likes it, I had a blast teasing it from my imagination.
I’ll tidy up the worst rough edges in the next day or so, and I’ll hand it in to my screenwriting group for feedback. I doubt I’ll tackle the re-write for a month or two. Once I get the notes I’ll let it percolate in my mind until I can face the next draft.
In the meantime, I have the genesis of another script to tackle. And maybe a short story.
You gotta keep writing.