As is probably clear by the title of this post, I just finished writing the first of three feature scripts I’m working to have finished for the end of March. I wrote my last scene yesterday, and this morning I did a read through for grammar, flow, and to ensure that everything still makes sense in the final context of the film. So far so good.
Strangely enough, now that I’ve finished one script I feel more pressured to get going on the other two (and more self-judgement about whether or not these scripts are worth writing). One of the strongest negative voices in my head is the one that says “Don’t bother.” One of the major reasons I had for issuing myself the 3 scripts in 3 months challenge is the hope that my competitive streak will overpower that feeling of “why should I even try?” And fear of what other people think.
I’ve found a really common way for people to interpret the work of new filmmakers and authors (and I’m sure other creatives as well) as being more or less autobiographical. Which I suppose is an easy way for audiences to place a fictional narrative in the structure of the world they know (sometimes referred to as the real world but I’m not a fan of that label). Worrying about interpretation has been a great way for me to procrastinate – it wouldn’t be so bad if I wrote tawdry relationship dramas because my husband and I have a good relationship, and as an artist and filmmaker who works with a lot of abstract ideas he gets that not everything is about him. Most of my work centers around familial relationships and long term adult friendships (I promise that isn’t a euphemism), so I have a fear that if I write about a self-obsessed mother, a controlling father, or screw-up brother that I’ll have to hold some level of family meeting about it. The truth is I have a more supportive family than I probably deserve, and my fear betrays my own narcissism and neurosis.
Ah, the life of a writer.