I said I’d write about the fear of writing good,
But never did I write, or write it as I should
Have liked. No colours and no trees or wind or jazz,
My brain it ceased to give me metal juice…
I wrote and pulled my greying hairs; the sprouted stress,
And wrote a poem about the truth, and nothing less.
This week we've been lectured by Marianne Connor who's been a writer in Hollywood for about ten years. It's been truly helpful to have this amazing incite and as such we've been boggled with even more deadlines and writing assignments. We've completed a second draft of our thirty minute scripts and have already pitched a feature film to the class and have to complete a treatment by the end of tomorrow. It felt right to include a poem written in the midst of this stupor, which hopefully, at the very least, captures the way I often feel when it comes to writing.
Not much else to report this week, except for the belated Halloween party to come on Wednesday, although according to JP Halloween isn't celebrated much in Finland and the closest holiday is All Saints Day celebrated on November 5th, and so we technically still have an excuse (and an excuse to combine bon fire night with the Fin's tradition too!). One more week and then we have another two weeks of independent writing where we can finish out 30 minute scripts and treatments. Bring it on!
