Back on August 9th I promised my future self I would have a reading of the new script before the end of September.
It’s now September 21st. I have nine days left to fulfill my promise to my now present self from my past self, or pack it all in and live in a cavern of regret, where shame slowly but regularly drips on my head for eternity.
Okay, that’s a bit dramatic. I’ll get a break from eternity to watch the finale of Breaking Bad.
But why wait? I go on about other projects, and I have a lot on my plate right now, but I can certainly squeeze in a reading. I finally allowed a second set of eyes on the script, a trusted and talented actor and writer who also will have a role in the script. He digested the draft, and then got back to me with some very interesting notes. He likes the story, but agrees that it needs work.
“So I should do another rewrite before I have a reading,” I said.
“Oh no. Put it out there now,” he sternly replied.
And that was a surprise. I keep forgetting that writing is a process and there will be no perfection, so no need to hold out for that perfect moment. I should just go ahead and have the reading.
So that is what I will do. Pick a few people to read it for me. Pick a date. And proceed. Stop talking about doing things. Do things. Let me say that again.
Stop talking about doing things.