A Brief Word About Disappointment.

"If you can make a heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss..."*

Some people get tattoos. Some people brand themselves or pierce sensitive body parts. Me, I periodically set myself up for crushing disappointments.

Of course, it's not like see it that way in advance. I always feel invincible and certain of success when I wholeheartedly throw myself into an endeavor. Occasionally I'm even right - and it's spectacular. There is no high like throwing all your money down on a high-stakes table and WINNING. But most of the time, I'm not so lucky. And when I'm not, it hurts. A lot.

But there's a thing you have to remember. If you're not losing now and then - I mean, if you're not suffering a crushing, humiliating, what-the-hell-made-me-think-I-could-even-step-onto-this-FIELD type defeat now and then - all that means is that you're not in the game.

*from "If," by Rudyard Kipling.

What Mathematics Does on a Saturday Night.

So this Saturday I'm going to see The Farnsworth Invention again. For those who don't minutely follow all the details of the entertainment world, that would be Aaron Sorkin's new play. I saw the premiere last month, and found it intriguing enough to want to watch a second time, but this is the first chance I've had to get a ticket and get back down to La Jolla to see it. All in all it feels more like a really good Discovery Channel special than a theatrical drama, but quirky as it is, it obviously hooked me. I'm a sucker for Sorkin's writing, for many of the same reasons other people find it irritating. I love the ping-pong of erudite wit and wordplay, and hell, I even enjoy it when Sorkin gives up on drama altogether and just climbs up on a soap box and starts ranting. No one rants quite like Sorkin.

But Aaron Sorkin (creator of The West Wing, Sports Night, and Studio 60, as well as writer of A Few Good Men) is important to me for more reasons than just his talent. In him I see everything I could possibly be, despite my own shortcomings and eccentricities. I admire more than his ability to write scripts that make me laugh and stun me and bring tears to my eyes. I admire the sense of cohesion and camaraderie on his sets, and the way he - the most powerful man on set- stops to talk to extras and crew members (often much to their bewilderment). I admire the idealized way in which he views the world, and the way that despite his having in his youth descended into the depths of every imaginable sin, he seems to have come out of his experiences the same boyish, well-meaning innocent who went in. More cautious, perhaps, a dash more guarded and private, but still as sweet and well-meaning and almost heartbreakingly romantic as he was in his late twenties when he was suddenly catapulted into the entertainment stratosphere and all the excesses that came with it.

He's a guy who, given all he went through and how poorly he was prepared for it, could easily have crashed and burned for good. But when I look at him now I don't see the scarred and bitter old man he might well have become, but a serene and still-buoyant showbiz veteran with a job he loves and a little girl who turns his world. Somehow he seems to have left behind most of his adolescent darkness, yet kept his youthful curiosity and sense of adventure. For God's sake, he just agreed to write the script for a musical based on a Flaming Lips album. I am staggered by his audacity at times, and pray that when I'm in my mid-forties I'll be just as willing to step out onto a brand-new ledge.

Slowdown.

So I didn't plow straight through to the end of my first draft the way I'd hoped I would. The fact is, I knew my research was shaky, and I couldn't bear to follow up the (very nice!) first half of my screenplay with a bunch of thin, wobbly, unsure-of-itself writing. I love the authority with which I throw around SWAT jargon in the beginning. I need to feel that solid about the geographical area that is the "star" of the second half of the movie.

I have found some people who may be willing to help me with said research. Some of them I may have to bribe a little. But it will be worth it. If my second half turns out as well as my first half, I feel pretty sure that this is the writing sample that is going to get me a job.

Progress Report.

I am on page 23 out of a projected 100 for the first draft of KoD. Hoping to hit 25 before the night's out. Tomorrow's goal: page 40.

My TV drama instructor seems overall to have very little to say about my Veronica spec. That is, I guess, a good thing. If one can judge by his comments, though, all it really needs is a polish. It's nice to feel like I have at least one more thing I can add into my "portfolio" of writing samples alongside my mediocre Without a Trace spec.

Fear of Success?

So, KoD represents the height of my writing ability at this point in my life. It has the best plot, the best characters, the best structure, and the best backdrop of any story I've yet told, especially in screenplay form. Also the first 13 pages contain some of the best and smoothest dialogue I've written, as well. So... why have I not written page 14?

The last time I worked on this was February 20th. Many a time I have sat down to continue my work, and every time I find some excuse not to work on it. It's not a huge mystery. I know my psychology well enough by now. It's not exactly fear of success; it's more, "This is the best I can do. What if THIS isn't good enough?" I know the answer is, "then you'll have to keep getting better." Lord knows I'm a better writer at 31 than I was at 26, and I was a better writer at 26 than I was at 21, and 16, and 11, and 6... so it stands to reason I'll be even better at 36 than I am now. People don't generally become WORSE writers until AFTER they get successful. So long as I'm still hungry, still frustrated, still aching to prove myself, I should continue to improve.

That's all well and good, both logical and inspirational. And yet, here I am at a quarter to ten, going to bed instead of writing.

If I don't put in FIVE SOLID HOURS of writing tomorrow I am going to have to punish myself SEVERELY.

Small Victory.

I'm not as far along on KoD as I'd like, but I finished my Veronica Mars spec, which now puts me in possession of two "completed" spec scripts. Those who are TV writers (or any kind of writers at all) will understand why "completed" is in quotation marks.