Brain Hurt

Man, I don’t know if I was ever a facile writer, the kind that can quickly jump between different projects, genres, assignments, etc., or whether I’m just feeling old today. But after an actual day’s worth of writing and rewriting, I’m spent. I’ve got a lunch meeting tomorrow with an artist to gauge his interest in launching a six-issue comic book series. For that meeting, though, I was hoping to get him a good copy of a second draft of the script. But for the life of me, there’s something missing in the whole story. I know I can give him a taste of the world I’m creating with a script for just one issue, plus some extra writing, so I’m going to have to hide my misgivings tomorrow and sell the idea.

Actually, they aren’t misgivings. I love the story and know it will work, and have lived with the characters in the project for years. I just won’t have a perfect mystery laid out in my head to dazzle him with. And that makes me feel like a piker. Grand schemes have been agreed to, bought and sold on a lot less than I’m going to bring along, but like the little gnomic perfectionist that I am, I’m going to feel nervous because I don’t know the backstory of a secondary character or two. I gotta get over myself one of these days.

Anyway, comics. Not as easy to write the scripts as I’d thought, shifting from a completely text-based story to lively pitchers and all. That’s probably what’s hurting my head. I don’t know how much this artist would like to have spelled out for the pages–some like lots of direction, some like more freedom. I hope he’s one of the latter, b/c I welcome his ideas and a good give-and-take.

The worst part of working on this, if the whole thing sees the light of day, will be to hear my mother say 35 times, “I thought you’d all get over those comics books when you were kids.” Oh yeah, nothing like unconditional support. Nothing at all like it.