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May 17, 2005
Brain damage?
I have many lifelong fears, phobias, and anxieties, but chief among them right now is my "Flowers For Algernon" complex. I think I'm getting progressively dumber every day. Every moment, it seems, I am just slightly less creative, less smart, less energetic than the moment before.
I'm trying to write a new pilot for Channel 102, and I have the idea, and I think it's a great idea with a lot of potential for fun, but I just can't bring myself to put finger to keyboard. I used to think I was a pretty good writer, but natural human dialogue just seems impossible for me to come up with these days. Maybe I should talk more.
This could be a really bad omen because writing is the only thing I can even pretend that I do well. I'm mediocre, at best, at anything else. I guess I'd better prepare myself for my future as a supermarket bagboy.
Posted by tony at May 17, 2005 11:35 AM
Comments
Too bad you don't have anything to blame it on. I blame my slow progression into retardation on prescription drugs. And hate. Let go of the hate, Tony.
Posted by: Maddy at May 17, 2005 12:30 PM
I don't really know, but I feel part of it may be that you write for a living, and maybe all that writing makes you feel a little worn out.
Anyway, if you're having problems with dialogue, maybe have your friends improvise a few scenes and take what you can from that.
Posted by: The Shaun at May 20, 2005 01:33 AM
Tony, please. You are a fantastic writer. Maybe you feel burnt out, but that's all it is. I have had the same thought, btw. Especially when I feel like I'm out of ideas and I can't do even menial things that I don't want to do, like be a temp, well. That makes me feel especially useless. Why are we talking about me? You're great! End of story!
Posted by: Natasha at May 23, 2005 10:26 PM
hate? please. supermarket bagboy? you wish. like no genius writer has ever had trouble writing....
Posted by: suzie at May 24, 2005 04:36 PM
This really sounds like a cry from the depths of a self-absorbed egotism calling out for some coddling from the warm bosom of the comments section's lickspittles, whose opiions mean little to you in a manic stage, no doubt. Gee, you really are a writer.
Posted by: J at May 28, 2005 04:32 PM
