First Draft Done

One down.
I’ve completed my first original full length screenplay. In this case “completed” means that I’ve finished one terrible first draft and that it has many more drafts to go before it could be considered “good”. Still, I’m pretty proud of it.
As this was my first original script (I have previously completed a page-one* rewrite for a competition), it seems only fitting to look back and figure out what I’ve learned, what I’ve botched, and what the hell I thought I was doing. Not necessarily in that order.
I’ll be posting my “Lessons Learned” over the next week. Hopefully they’ll prove useful/insightful/distracting to even non-writers.

 

*A page-one rewrite is one in which you take the basic premise (it can be the characters, the setting, dialogue, whatever) and then go back to page one and just write your own version of things. In that case I kept the setting, the premise, added some characters, added some action scenes, and changed almost every single line of description and dialogue. It was just easier than hacking away.

70s Potato Dinner

Not Actually Edible

While making dinner the other night, we discovered that the tray we were roasting our sweet potatoes on looked remarkable “70s-ish” with all the brown and yellow colors. So I snapped a shot, extracted the colors, and this palette is what you get. Feel free to use it however you see fit. I might throw together a poster using these with some of the new typefaces I downloaded today as well.

You know, just in case you were wondering.

Getting Buzzed at Night

Lint almost killed me the other night.
Not in a “Haha, I had no idea lint knew so many ‘Yo Momma’ jokes!” kind of way. Killed as in physically dead.
To the explanation booth!

Our laundering devices (you may know them as a washer and a dryer) are located outside, under an awning, backed against the detached garage. They are exposed to the elements. Spiders and raccoons are common visitors (tho not together, not since the war). An old and decrepit shelving unit sits next to the dryer. It mostly serves as a place to throw excess lint from the trap (because I’m too lazy to walk 30ft to the trashcan).

This has built up over the years. So much so that one entire shelf is lint. A multicolored fluffy wonderland.
I venture out there to put some newly washed clothes into the dryer, as is my custom. Given my carefree nature and disregard for social norms, I throw open the dryer door with reckless abandon. Ok, so I opened it a bit too enthusiastically (I love dry clothes). The door swings open, smacking into the old bookcase (take that!). And then, a soft buzz.

A buzz? Looking closer at the shelf, I notice a container of some chemical agent. Maybe it’s just letting off pressure from my abrupt jostling.
Instead of dissipating, the buzzing builds. Louder and angrier. The lint is mad at me.

Out from the castoffs of a million dried towels burrows a furry insect. And then another. And then 5 more. Then 20.

Fucking BUMBLE BEES.

They come out into the crisp night air to get a good look at the assclown that thought he could disrupt their slumber and get away with it. A few take flight. At this point, three thoughts are going through my head (in this order):

1) Do bumble bees sting?*

2) Insects are cold-blooded. How quickly will they die in the night air?*

3) Can someone edit my obituary so it doesn’t say that I was killed doing laundry?*

So I close the doors to the washing machines and dryer (distraction tactic!) and run for the house. They won’t take me this night! Of course, I was ducking and swearing and swinging my arms around like a fool while I was doing this. Dignity was not an option.

Oh, I should mention; I’m quite allergic to bee/wasp stings. I had angered the wrong insect.
But all is well. Sure, they’re still living in the lint, and now I do laundry wearing a hazmat suit, but maybe this is the opening salvo in peace talks between our two peoples.
“I’m sorry I hit your house with the dryer door.”
“It’s ok, we just think about what honey REALLY is and laugh our stingers off.”

*Turns out the answer are 1) Yes, as much as they like (the stingers don’t fall out). 2) They have insulation so that they can venture out into the cold, the tricky bastards. and 3) They’d keep it. It’s just too good of a joke to pass up. Once in a lifetime.