I’m John. I’m a writer/director. Sometimes I clear my porn browsing history in the middle of an orgasm because I like to stay on top of things. So it’s a problem for me that I have a project that’s dragging out.
There's development funding involved. There's a great producer involved. So I’ve devised a way to get myself involved in getting it done. Fast.
Potential public humiliation.
I’ll be live streaming my Word and Final Draft documents for anyone who cares to watch as I write a new treatment for a screenplay about a struggling thirtysomething couple who are confronted on a remote island by their passionately in love twentysomething selves. Imagine Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind smashed into Lord of the Flies. That’s the kind of delusion of grandeur I have.
I'll be live from 10am to 5:30pm (eastern standard time). It’s going to suck because I recently had my first kid and my eyes feel like they’ve had the word "tired" tattooed on them by a dugong with a junkie’s needle. But that’s part of the challenge.
I’m starting from scratch, jettisoning the previous draft/s. The central idea of being revisited by your past selves is pretty much all that remains. It’s risky, but so is throwing a frozen Mars bar at my dad's head.
I don’t imagine anyone will watch, but the idea that someone might be eyeballing my screen will be enough to inspire me to work fast and well. It’s like how when my lady comes to the pool with me I can swim like a fucking bluefin tuna because I imagine she’s watching and thinking about how flawless my stroke is and how I’m totally slaying everyone else in the pool and how I’m pretty much the epitome of manhood she’s always dreamed of.
So, yeah, come and be like my girlfriends and help me write this thing better, quicker and way more backstroke.
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