So I graduated film school with a degree in my hand (metaphorically, they actually mail it to you a month or so later) and an idea in my back pocket. Wanting time to write I headed back home which turned out to be financial/professional suicide but it did have the intended result of affording me time to put Gorracula down on paper.
For the purposes of our final project, (mentioned in the previous post) I'd had to produce a twenty-five page sample of the script. The scene was strong and made me feel powerful (you can't see it but I'm flexing to illustrate as I type this). There's something about writing a thing that makes you laugh...something that has an element of the strange and the sexy, even if no one else ever sees it, you've done that much and it's invigorating. Of course it becomes risky because if you give it someone to read and they don't react in the way you expect you kind of become a pale and writerly version of The Hulk and want to start smashing furniture. There is a maturing process involved in becoming a writer. And a lot of it has to do with not destroying furniture.
So, fastforwarding about three months from film school graduation: following a failed job hunt, failed apartment hunt, two months spent on a couple friends' couch writing morose self-reflexive poetry and a long defeated car ride home, from Orlando to Indiana, I sat in my old room in front of a computer screen. I had the first scene and a stack of notes for the screenplay version of Gorracula a Tale of Science.
And then, like any self-respecting procrastination prone writer, I swiveled my desk chair around to face the TV and flipped on a Doctor Who DVD.
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