Hmmm, well . . .
how quickly a couple of hours can turn into a whole week of brainstorming . . . particularly when one has been up to one's gob in Lemsip the past few days.
Following our weekend BBQ in Surrey, which left everyone sozzled and soggy, not to mention bloody bad tempered (frankly, there were more screaming hissy fits amongst couples, than a whole class of toddlers on their first day at nursery), Yours Truly developed something of a nasty head cold (I'm not a bloke, so I'm refusing to call it Swine Flu). Hence I haven't got nearly as much done on my screenplay as I had hoped for.
However . . .
My premise is sorted (well and truly) and I've got a pretty neat cast of characters who are becoming more real to me by the day. I'm really looking forward to getting to grips with my main character, Meredith, who is out to settle old scores.
I've had Julian Friedmann's acclaimed tome, 'How To Make Money Scriptwriting,' in my collection for around four years now and I'm hanging my head appropriately, because previously I'd not ventured past the introduction. So this weekend I'm really going to get stuck in, except, as I've just been reminded by The Girlfriend, Chelsea are on the box on Sunday afternoon and we're having people round tomorrow night. As I reminded TG, every artist has to make sacrifices for her craft. "Fine," she said. "Just popping out to buy the wine for tomorrow night and the beers for the match."
That's settled then. Good. Meantime, Mr Friedmann's wisdom awaits . . .
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