And it ends and it begins again

It is the future, once again. Those first few days of the year where you keep writing the wrong date on checks (people still use those?), where you still haven't broken your resolutions, and where you keep telling yourself that you're living in the future because it's past the year two thousand. Well, the future has become the present, as it always will. And we will always try to discard the past in chasing after that future, which will also become the past. Eventually. And it will end and it will begin again.

That Thing has finally ended, just uploaded the last episode the other night. And now I am truly done with it. At one point I did want to put up a blooper reel, had something half edited. However, the hard drive in which That Thing resided on died a few months ago. I had most of the important stuff backed up, but in order to finish that reel I'd have to recapture the twenty something hours of tapes again, and I just don't got it in me to expend that much time and effort on it anymore. Need to move on, discard the past and all that.

Twenty-eleven in general felt like a drag. I don't think I got much done. Concrete work on my own stuff at least. Wrote a few scripts, most of which died at the first draft. Did shoot some stuff at least, refueled my desire to make things again. So it begins again with a new script. This fifty page thing I finished a few days ago, that I'd like to make a twenty-something minute short out of. The real challenge is going to be to try and attempt to shoot it within the next month, which means there's a lot of work ahead that needs to get done.

I think I got the hardest part out of the way, the transcribing of the words from handwritten paper to a format that can spit out pdfs. Writing, I enjoy writing, most of the time. Sure, sometimes you get stuck and frustrated, but you put enough time and burn enough brain cells and the problem will be solved. And once it is, there's no better feeling than have your brain send those electronic impulses through the nerves to the hand, where a pen will turn ink into words. The sensation of those strokes must be what... each stride a marathon runner feels on the twentieth mile of a race. And when you cross that red tape? So nice.

 On the other hand, typing those words in again is about a mundane activity as I could think of. Utterly boring and near exhausting to do, but it must be done. It used to be that I'd revise while it's being done, but that just slows it down even more, best to churn through it and work it out later. But yeah, that's done. Now it is time to edit. Need to cut this script in half, and soon. Want to send a draft to friends eventually, then to actors and then? Production time. Edging ever closer to the edge of that cliff, near jumping off again. Haven't done it in years, hopefully I don't hit the ground too hard.