It's so nice to have quit writing. It means I can write like crazy.
Last month I wrote a whacked short story and sent it a couple of places and didn't give a damn what happened to it. This month I'm writing a screenplay.
Since I'm not writing, I have all the time in the world to do this very right or very wrong. And with a screenplay, it's not hard for it to look beautifully right.
I have Final Draft 7: that only took a few keystrokes and $89. I know the basic structure. I've done the treatment: it's my vision of an adaptation of my short story, "Two-Story Brick Houses." Since I've already seen the film in my mind's eye, all I have to do is get it onto my computer screen. With the software doing the format, it looks terrific.
To date I have eleven pages. The trouble is that it's easy. And I have a feeling it's deceptively easy. Dialogue floats on the page like tiny pieces of dry crap. Setting has to be spelled out, and I usually leave it up to my reader's imagination. Worst of all, action tells everything about everything, and I despise action. Altogether, this isn't the way a novelist does best.
But if I'm going to get my vision of this story in front of anyone, I'm going to have to try this method. So I drop a few dozen words onto a lot of white space. My one consolation is that I've come up with the best title I've ever conceived. This is a story of survivor guilt that ultimately drives a man to suicide. The title? "The Nearest Exit May Be Behind You."
