I just finished the hand-written draft of my latest rewrite.
I love completing this stage more than I do the actual type-written draft.
Why?
Because I’m a weirdo. And I like the smell of ink. And I like the swelling in my right arm from so much.... writing, yeah, that’s it... writing.
But for real. I LOVE HAND-WRITTEN PAGES!!!!!!!
I’ve noticed something about completing my first draft this way - besides the pain in my arm. I’m forced to write pithy. Using pen and paper doesn’t give me much room for long, drawn-out sentences and descriptions. I’m extremely conscious of every page I write. I know when I reach halfway down the paper and soon must turn it over; I’ve got only so much actual real space right there in front of me to use, so I choose my words wisely (or, at least, I try).
Did I mention my arm hurts?
Now comes the task of the second draft - the typing, and here is where it slows down. One, now I have to actually try and read my scratchy handwriting, and two, I will most likely hate absolutely everything I wrote and will proceed to ripping it apart.
Did I mention my arm really, really hurts?
The script I’m working on has been reworked a number of times, and each time, it has gotten better, or at least, those people reading it at some of the contests have thought so - but what the hell do they know, right?
For this rewrite, I have 52 hand-written pages of new material. This was supposed to be a quick rewrite - a few changes here and there.
Am I happy with the new stuff? Today.
But tomorrow is sure to bring shit loads of doubt and angst - I’m neurotic that way.
See ya in a couple of days, unless my arm falls off.
I love completing this stage more than I do the actual type-written draft.
Why?
Because I’m a weirdo. And I like the smell of ink. And I like the swelling in my right arm from so much.... writing, yeah, that’s it... writing.
But for real. I LOVE HAND-WRITTEN PAGES!!!!!!!
I’ve noticed something about completing my first draft this way - besides the pain in my arm. I’m forced to write pithy. Using pen and paper doesn’t give me much room for long, drawn-out sentences and descriptions. I’m extremely conscious of every page I write. I know when I reach halfway down the paper and soon must turn it over; I’ve got only so much actual real space right there in front of me to use, so I choose my words wisely (or, at least, I try).
Did I mention my arm hurts?
Now comes the task of the second draft - the typing, and here is where it slows down. One, now I have to actually try and read my scratchy handwriting, and two, I will most likely hate absolutely everything I wrote and will proceed to ripping it apart.
Did I mention my arm really, really hurts?
The script I’m working on has been reworked a number of times, and each time, it has gotten better, or at least, those people reading it at some of the contests have thought so - but what the hell do they know, right?
For this rewrite, I have 52 hand-written pages of new material. This was supposed to be a quick rewrite - a few changes here and there.
Am I happy with the new stuff? Today.
But tomorrow is sure to bring shit loads of doubt and angst - I’m neurotic that way.
See ya in a couple of days, unless my arm falls off.
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