It’s a day late (or several days late, depending on how you look at it).
Hopefully, it’s not a dollar short.
At 5:19 this morning I made my last edit. I hit save, converted to .pdf, and sent off to Dean for his take.
I will have one more quick pass this afternoon sometime to integrate Dean’s notes (which seem, so far, to be minimal). From there, it’s off to the producer of the ScriptNight reading, so he can get the script to the casting director.
I will, of course, want to take one more read. You know, the one where I am actually awake and have my wits about me. The one where I am not rocking back and forth and drooling like I’ve been locked in some rubber room for too long. That’s when I will trust the work is valid. And it is then that I will, I am certain, make the "final" changes that constitute this draft.
That’s the version I will trust to send to the TInseltown producers and such who have expressed interest.
For now, my life–like my office–feels like it’s a complete mess. I am certain that’s not the case, and that all it takes is a little tidying up to be good as new. Over the course of this week, however, as I have locked myself away day and night to cross this finish line, I could hear balls dropping around me right and left.
That’s not a good feeling.
And it’s a strange thing to know it’s happening, yet know that your life at the moment depends on your keeping focus on achieving one particular goal to the exclusion of nearly everything else. And that in order to do it service, the process of achieving said goal, in fact, demands it.
You bracket that feeling away and soldier on, knowing that the fabric of your life is
unraveling some in the process. Your hope being that the pieces of your life are
still relatively intact when you return to "normalcy"–at least
intact enough that you can them pick up and that they will function reasonably well when you put them back in place. You trust in that…in your ability to do that and in the strength of your relationships with the ones you love, who suffer the most when you step away.
It’s the thing, by the way, that I am not certain I like about writing. It’s certainly the hardest for me to wrap my head around because I’m the "I want everyone to like me and to have everything be okay" guy. And yet, for some reason, I accept the "not okay-ness" of this life. I submit to it willingly. And with gusto. And abandon.
I guess that’s why I say it’s a calling.
That said, I am going to start tidying up.
Yes…those are beer bottles. More than I realized. And dirty dishes piled up. And something nasty is wafting up from the garbage.
And then there’s getting the tabs for the car, which should have been done Monday. And paying some bills to, you know, keep our home working.
And touching base again with what makes it all worth it.
Robbye and I are heading off to a Haley Bonar concert tonight. A CD release party for her new album. It was a Mother’s Day gift for Robbye. I am looking forward to spending some quality alone time with her. To enjoying some of our favorite music together.
And maybe this time she’ll actually talk to Haley! (I will let Robbye explain sometime… [wink])