So Strange Angels is done (more or less.) It’s now the First of March. That means it’s time to move on to the next script.
But this is the part where I’m paralyzed. The blank page stares, zombie-eyed, back at me. I know what I’m supposed to write. I even have it mapped out. The new script is an extravagant musical/drama/comedy/adventure based on the four elements. But I think I’d rather get up and pour some more juice. Or arrange the avocados on my kitchen counter in a line according to size. Or play with the pile of wine corks on my floor.
The clock ticks by. And at last, I begin to type. Two pages down. 118 to go.