March 19, 1998

That Much Closer To Done

It'll all be over 15 minutes after I'm dead.

I called Len yesterday and he hadn't gotten around to reading my script yet, but said he would by class today. I mentioned that my answering machine message to him was completely incoherent because I'd been caught off-guard by the comments of the rewrite teacher; Len started giving me some feedback on my rewrite script to the effect that my hook is so good on that script that I have to stop meandering in Act I--I can do character stuff in Act II.

Well, gee, Len...you never put it that way before.

In class today Len said he thought my thesis script was very good, it moved, everyone's motivations were real clear, and it's funny. His only complaints were minor--no massive rewrites required. Nothing even worthy of calling "a full polish."

I don't remember his exact words--I focused, as usual, on whatever he said needed fixing (which wasn't much). I was also afraid to react to what he was saying the way I wanted to--"You like it! You really really like it!"--in front of everyone, because I'm done and they're not.

I really wish Linda had been in class when Len was talking about my script (she was late), because I could ask her what it was precisely that Len had said--I don't feel comfortable asking anyone else to repeat the positive things.

Of course, I had my usual cognitively dissonant experience later in the class: Len once again went off on how wonderful another script is, and I kept thinking, You're kidding, right? If he thinks this is wonderful and he thinks mine is good, does that make mine a poorly-plotted piece of shit with flat characters? Or is this a relative situation--it's not so much that it's great, but that it exists at all?

It's 8pm and all I want to do is go to bed.

Today's other achievement: I stayed completely on the diet all day, the first time in about 3 weeks.

Lies, Damn Lies, and Statistics

3 miles this morning.