Done

By no means am I done, really.  I'm just done with the crappy first draft.  It is out of my head, now, though.  Saved on my computer.  Saved on a thumb drive.  Now I need to print it out in its entirety for Steph.

I haven't even read the whole thing start to finish.  And right now, I don't even want to.  I just want to bask in the accomplishment of writing

THE END

on page 104.

Soon enough will come reading Steph's comments and the refining... where I thwak myself on the forehead and say "How could I have forgotten to put that in?"  Or come to the sobering realization that this play is only funny to me.  And then I'll have to steel myself for a reading, which always sends my insides through a pasta machine.  But today, I am done.  Heave a huge sigh.  Kick back. 

Now, I can finally let myself read again.  Which book shall I choose...

Deadlines

One of the reasons I got involved with writing for the Parkway Playhouse is to give me deadlines.  Real deadlines, as in ones that I put other things off for... And well, this holiday season I've done it.  The are costumes for Sunday's Church Christmas Pageant still un-sewn.  A few presents yet to be purchased.  A county vehicle tax unpaid.  I think the milk has been left out since breakfast.  The house is in a constant state of shambles.  I even forgot to call the phone company today about the mice in the walls that have chewed through our phone line... I can still get online.  (I moved the modem.)  But we have no phone.  Which has led to things like missed dental appointments.  Oops.

But I am here to tell you:  I only have one scene left to write.

Of course, then will come the revising.  But you've got to get the thing done before you can polish.

One.
More.
Scene.

Two-Minute Drill

I feel like things are down to the wire.  Originally, I'd planned for the script to be 95 pages long.  But somehow, it's going to be longer.  I have a lot to do and not very much time to do it.  (Maybe I should study some Tebow film.)  I suppose it could be that if you put three long-time guy friends in a room and you want the dialog to be believable you're going to have to devote a few pages to stuff like this:

MARK

Idiot.

ELLIOT

Who?

MARK

Him, not you. Although, if you have to ask, yes, you too.

RYAN

Why are you calling me an idiot? I'm not the one who accidentally purchased non-alcoholic beer. You're the idiot.

MARK

Shut up.

RYAN

You shut up.

ELLIOT

Both of you shut up.  I'm trying to watch the game.

No, these aren't actually lines in the play, though they could be.  But get enough of that mindless banter in there, and maybe that's what's pushing the page count longer.  They all need to shut up, my characters.  They just need to stop talking so this play can be over already!  Problem is, at this point, I know what they need to say yet before it can be done. The end is so close I can almost taste it... except that it's not.  And I'm still not done.  And I have exactly 2.5 school days to work before the winter break and the kids invade my quiet head-space at home.  (Because I've frittered half of today away, one day is only a half day, and there's the awards program and all...)  Ahhh!

Let me emphasize the stress

Sports watching can be a stressful way to relax.  Instead of a Thursday night treat of watching your team rumble over a weaker opponent, it can cause what will be a week and a half of "update checking" and worry.  When you watch your QB go down and limp on the field, a stone the heft of Pouncey settles on your chest and your shoulders melt.  You repeat yourself,  "This is not good.  This is not good."  And even a win, while satisfying, still doesn't feel like a win.  From your couch, you do things like vow to the Browns you will not forget this.  Ever.

On the writing front, this is all fodder.  Sick, sick fodder.

Today I went from 13 pages behind schedule to only 7 pages behind schedule.  Progress.  And, finally, after much patience with the characters, I got to write the line "that's what she said."  I knew those guys would get around to it at some point.

* I suppose I should add an apology to Steph, who was probably again sickened by my inclusion of the Rothelisburger injury video.