The Ticking Time Bomb

As Len put it, "I'm known for being dark." He took being dark to whole new levels in class yesterday, introducing pedophilia into one script and adding a plot point that includes the rape of a senile old women into another. He started talking about stuff that made a bunch of us blanche. (You don't even want to know what he said about those kids in Arkansas--and Len is pro-gun.)

I can't complain though--he was in a pretty good mood about my script. He pointed out what he says he thinks is the major flaw, that I might be able to patch up before sending it in for thesis approval. Linda said to me in e-mail later: "everybody there must have wished as did I that we only had one hole to fill." So I think I'm doing pretty well.

The ticking time bomb continues to sound off ominously in the corner, however.

In stories, particularly in scripts, the device of the ticking time bomb is often brought up as a way to increase tension and suspense. You put severe time pressure on the protagonist--"If I don't steal the secrets from the Russians by midnight, the spy will put my children to death!" That kind of thing. It gets put into a lot of movies, even movies where it doesn't belong, as a way to heighten tension.

The current ticking time bomb in my life, of course, is the thesis drop dead date (April 17). And after that, the Nicholl Fellowship entry drop dead date (May 1). There is no getting out of it, no getting extensions, no way of saying, "The dog ate my homework." Ship or die.

During thesis class, the fact that we have two more weeks to go was clearly on everyone's mind. Several of my companions aren't done yet with a first draft, which means a complete rewrite is totally out of the question. We have two more classes to go before we have to turn our theses in, and the second class is less than 24 hours before the absolute deadline. So if, on April 16, Len says, "By the way, the whole subplot with the terrorists taking over the Universal CityWalk just isn't working," the writer's screwed. You can't fix a hole like that in 24 hours. (Well, maybe you could. But it's unlikely.)

Lies, Damn Lies, and Statistics

Yesterday: 3 miles.

Today: I took the day off. I realized that I had exercised for something like 10 days in a row, and my muscles, when I woke up in the morning, said, Could we have a few hours to recover? Pretty please?