Dark Nights


There's a lot I could have posted here recently -- like the game of sardines the TV Writers in LA played last Wednesday at the Cat & Fiddle -- but I've been much too busy. I'm racing against the clock to make my Dexter spec work before the WB and ABC/Disney deadlines. I have a back-up spec, but I really want to make this one work. There's something there, if I can just unearth it. I want it to purr, to do feral things to those that read it.

Recently, my friend P took a break from entertaining the masses to give me some notes on my mess of a script. And I think he helped me strike on something. The question now is whether or not I can beat the clock. It's not a complete rehab, but it's significant.

I've already been working around the clock on this one. Writing from 6pm till I pass out, on lunch breaks, stolen moments, weekends. Working on very little sleep. It caught up with me, so I had to recharge this weekend. But the long dark nights are going to have to come back if I'm going to pull this one off.

My job has been really stressful recently. So that, and trying to make this script work, the usual LA stresses, and some other personal stuff -- it's been a draining few months. I must be showing the wear and tear, as my boss called me into her office this past week to ask me what's going on. Apparently people notice weight loss, sleep deprivation, and general zombie-like characteristics. Go figure. I guess not all of us are completely wrapped up in a our own secret schemes. What's up with that?

I just blamed it on the wedding. I love the catch-all wedding planning excuse. It's awesome. Easily ends all undesirable conversations.

But I have to admit that there is some appeal in pushing against boundaries. The stress of deadlines, pushing your body to the limit, letting the days bleed together, feeling ravaged. Dragging yourself through the daytime, your previous night's work allowing satisfaction to trump exhaustion. It's easy to feel helpless out here. I guess I like feeling like I'm doing everything I can. That I'm engaged in something -- that there's still some fight left in me.

Some things are still worth a good brawl.

(Plus it was worth an elevator exchange I had with this woman at work, let's call her Chicken Little:

Chicken Little: Oooo, you don't look good.
Me: No I don't.
Chicken Little: (leaning away) Are you sick?
Me: I kinda got my ass kicked.
Chicken Little: Ooo nooo...
Me: No, it's OK. She was butch.

If only I could adequately put the look on her face into words...)

So although I'm under no illusions about this rehab work being a barrel of monkeys, I'm looking forward to this next stretch of long dark nights. I'm determined to make this spec purr.

Here's to beating the odds.

ps. As I haven't posted on the TV Writers in LA group yet, I guess I might as well point to those who have, in case you haven't read any of the bakers dozens of blogs that have written about it. Check out Josh, Jane, and Matt. Good stuff.

pps. Good 'ol 25 posted on my blog! That's awesome. Good to hear from you, man. Looking forward to the second half of the season. Here's to hoping that you're wrong about Harden.

ppps. Huh. Now that I think about it. Maybe a barrel of monkeys is exactly what it will be...

pppps. Speaking of a barrel of monkeys, and if your under-a-rock status extends to The Joss himself, here's surefire way to throw some coal into your fires, to inspire the clickety clackety, or just to get at those monkeys:

Dr. Horrible and his PhD in horribleness...


Jeff said...

Dude, Harden's going down.

My favorite line:

"Dragging yourself through the daytime, your previous night's work allowing satisfaction to trump exhaustion."

So true. I have that feeling with building the perfect library for the richest of Asian art connoisseurs or my myriad scores on Red State Blue State. (getting noticed by MLB.com is a pretty big deal dude, come on... you know that)

Anyway, sometimes I wish I had the "wedding" excuse, but most of the time I sober up quick enough to forget such woeful theorizing.

Stars look to be aligning tonight... let's hope for the best, eh? Cheers!

Erika Anderson said...

Just curious--how many women you've worked with who have been unknowingly pegged with the pseudonym Chicken Little?

We're watching, Adam, and we're counting. I have (ahem) two.

Also, where's your post-Dark Knight meanderings? Consider that an official request.

I'll think of something nice for next time.