So, the spec script is going great.
Hi, I’m Beverly, and I'm writing a stupid fucking spec script.
No one is paying me to do this. I decided of my own free will to write this script, for free, in hopes that someone, someday, will pay for it. This is called a “spec script” and, as of this writing, I think it is bullshit.
I think it is bullshit mainly because I am terrified. Terrified that I will be unable to finish it. Terrified that I chose this path, and maybe it is the wrong one. Terrified that the work is not good enough. Terrified that I am not good enough.
Terrified of what happens next.
I have a partner on this script. But right now, she has a real job, a very cool job, working on one of the year’s most anticipated TV shows. So I get to write a lot of the script. That is part of being partners, and I enjoy it. Except for the part where, you know, I have to actually write this stupid fucking script.
I have spent a lot of money writing this script. I am barely working on anything else right now. And that makes the stakes feel high. Maybe too high, considering I don’t know if anyone is going to pay for this stupid fucking script once it’s done.
But what choice do I have? I can’t do anything else. I’ve tried. I’ve tried SO HARD, you guys. My resume is filled with attempts to do, well, anything but this. My LinkedIn is a wasteland with a coat of shiny paint. I have run and run and run trying to be good at literally anything else. To be a career woman with a closet full of Ann Taylor Loft never-wrinkle blazers and an alarm that goes off at 7am every day where I don’t even hit snooze, not even once. But I fail, every time, because I am actually really bad at working at regular jobs. I am really bad at doing things I think are pointless, such as trying to be a “team player.” I do not think the addition of a foosball table makes going into an office from 9-5 worthwhile. What’s worse is that I say so, loudly and often. I am surly, I am moody, I am equal parts withdrawn and overly talkative. This does not go down smooth in the world of “beer o’clock” and performance reviews and scheduled monthly mandatory fun outings.
I’ve never been fired from a job. I always quit before that is on the horizon. Which is why I’m still working on this stupid fucking script. I refuse to quit on this. Because if I do, what’s left?
I like working on this script and I hate it. I hate being alone all day, left to my own devices, because I know that out of the whole day I will only work for a few hours. The rest of the hours are spent worrying that I haven’t worked enough.
Occasionally I will write something so funny that I temporarily forget how far I still have to go. Last week, I wrote that a character “microdoses cat tranquilizers to get through the day.” I laughed until I cried. I texted the line to everyone. I wrote five additional pages that day.
I don’t think that today is going to be like that.
Today is going to be spent shouting into the void in the form of blogging. I will then putter around the house, hating myself for not writing, maybe doing a little laundry. I will probably eat three or four hard-boiled eggs in a row. Around 7 or 8 tonight, I will finally sit down and hatefully do my work for the day.
Because, you know, I have this stupid fucking script to write.