It is beyond reason that I should not have entered a post about this project before now. Since May 2012, I have been officially working on the screenplay for a full-length movie, White Storm, based on a concept by Bruno Werneck. This illustrious graphics designer has worked on movies such as Superman, Tron, Suckerpunch, Spiderman, Thor, and now Star Trek II. Now he is ready for his own movie, a project already over two years in the making before I joined the crew. He has chosen me to work on the script. I joyously accepted, and I turned in the first draft at the end of August. We are now well into the second draft.
Or should be.
There is nothing like writing to put you face to face with your own weaknesses, fears, and childhood dysfunction, for better or worse. Every coping mechanism that probably didn’t work at age 2 or 14 or 20 resurfaces to make one look in the mirror and exclaim, “What was I thinking?” And that’s exactly what has happened with this project. I know that a nascent blockbuster rewrite lurks in the corners of my subconscious just waiting for me to put it together with thumbtacks, superglue, and maybe a few welds here and there. Yet I skirt these corners with my creative eye averted, pretending they aren’t there and ponder the pile of dirty laundry as if it were a beckoning meadow.
What gives with that??
Everyone has to be good at something, right? But does anyone really want to be good at procrastination? I’ve become so good, that I have learned to procrastinate by researching procrastination (and self sabotage). But maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe that is the ultimate, self-limiting diversionary activity. Certainly it has better productivity potential than catching up on sleep to rebuild my immune system.
I know all the expert advice to break things into small tasks, do the worst task first, change your environment, recite self-esteem building mantras, eat that frog, and so on. But something happens when you are too smart for your own good: you eschew the obvious. It’s just too trivial, and you know that already. Consequently, I come to the place of last resorts, and my choice is a combination of knuckle exercise and self-shame by writing this blog post. Dysfunction be damned.
First, I’m actually writing. It’s no Shakespeare, but the knuckle joints are getting oiled. More importantly, I am exposing my weakness to the world. Although I’m pretty sure no one is following this blog, there is the outside chance that Important People might see it. People I know. Relatives. My boss. But confession IS good for the soul, so if I ‘fess up, perhaps I can say my Hail Marys and get on with the task at hand.
A task I love. Writing my characters in their second version. Rebirthing them, painful as that might be, as more fully formed creatures with a more compelling story than they lived in the first draft. Will it work? We’ll see.
Oh, there went the laundry buzzer.