Writer’s Block

What if I never finish this script? What if I do finish, and it sucks? What if I finish it and can’t find funders, or stars, or anyone remotely interested in it? What if I finish it and nothing ever happens with it and it sits in my computer for eons, and when the apes finally become our galactic overlords, they laugh at it (not with it) and use it as an example of why humanity deserved to perish?

And thus begins another day of writing. Anything new on Facebook, people? I’m begging you. Show me what you had for lunch or tell me the just darling thing your kid said today. I’ll be riveted!

In the meantime, welcome to my brain:

Being inspired by amazing filmmakers at festivals.
All the leaves are brown.
When is it time to seriously look into shapewear?
Remembering a lecture from John Cleese at UCLA, recapped here.
Speaking of John Cleese, sheer brilliance.
Speaking of sheer brilliance, more sheer brilliance.
Accent à droite, bitch.  Julliard, bitch (Taystee, too).
How do I realize my lifelong dream of working for National Geographic?
People who call my films “cute” and if adults can get away with kicking other adults in the shins.
I still covet Sridevi’s shiny dresses.
How do I realize my lifelong dream of becoming a fighting monk at the Shaolin Temple?
The next feature.
The next feature.
The next feature.



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