For the past couple days, I've been working on the screenplay for a movie I plan to shoot when I get back to LeMars (working title: "David Mows Yards" - you like? no, of course not). Before I came to Berkeley, I had about 50 pages done. Now, I've got a little over 60 pages. Because, you know... the progress of art can be determined solely by quanitative means.
So far, I'm liking it. I'm re-arranging scenes and editing ideas and whatnot as I write, trying to get things as concise as possible. I'm a little worried though. Going by the logic that each-page-is-a-minute-of-film, I already have an hour's worth of movie. And I've just entered into the main thrust of the story. But I will not let this movie go over two hours. Nobody wants that.
Despite these problems... goddamn, it gives me so much pleasure writing this. When I'm not writing it, I'm thinking about writing it. It's great.
I'm also egg-cited to start shooting. I've got some actors lined up and a basic shooting schedule in my mind. It'll be a party.
I want to share the plot points and whatnot on this weblog, but I'm a little reluctant to. After all, gifts are the most fun when opened on Christmas morning! Douche!
However, I came across a book today that I remember from my childhood and still really love. It's Shel Silverstein's The Giving Tree. While reading it today, I realized how similar it is to my script (albeit not as touching or um, good).
But that was a hint!
Now you know vaguely what the movie's about!
You give a damn!