My unconscious kicks serious butt
a) my agent reading my middle-grade novel
b) the screenplay version of that novel entered in a number of contests, after winning or being a finalist in a dozen or so.
c) another screenplay entered in more contests
d) a TV pilot entered in a contest
e) a screenplay ready to go to a mentor I’ll be working with for six months
f) other projects in other places
So it’s not like I’m slacking off. Except I have been feeling like I am, in fact, slacking off, because all of the above are versions of existing work, anywhere from a year to five years old, that I either rewrote, repackaged, or otherwise reconstrued.
I didn’t have a new idea in the works, and that bothered me.
It evidently bothered me a lot, because right before I woke up this morning I had a Grade-A cinematic nightmare. We’re talking full-fledged horror plot with five ironic reversals, four well-defined characters, three supremely creepy visuals, two zombie French Hens and a partridge being eaten by a combination pear tree and Venus Flytrap.
Okay, I made the last two up. But still. I recall enough to outline it. I could probably write a half-dozen scenes from it right now.
So, fellow writers and other creative types, if you ever feel like you’re running on empty, eat something vile, or turn the heat up a little too high, or do whatever it takes to make your brain go apeshit in REM. What’s the worst that can happen?*
*–Note: the author assumes no liability for nor implies any warranty against something much worse happening.