You ever have this thing that’s just IN. YOUR. HEAD. and you just want to write it? Gotta write it? Need to fucking write it right fucking now or your head will fucking explode from all the fucking pressure?
No? But you agree with my mother that I have a real potty mouth? And that it’s an embarrassment? And unbecoming to a lady? And that you just don’t know why I need to use such vulgar jazz words?
Ok. I hear ya. Sorry.
Wait. I mean, okay, yes I say bad words a lot. I’m sorry that I’m not sorry. But, sometimes it just that they happen to be the right word. And that’s just that. So fuc– I mean, back off! And stop talking to my mom, too. Because that’s seriously creepy.
Now, as I was saying, there are times when these stories in my mind happen in pictures and colors and small snippets of dialog I see in front of me like some old movie screen in a dollar theater with sticky floors and bored teenagers bagging stale popcorn while you hand over your babysitting money.
Stories rarely comes to me in words.
So I have to just sit there and wait it out. Or sometimes I stand. Or like, take care of the little beasts that inhabit my house and call me Mommy. Either way, I have to see if this story is gonna form itself or fade.
It’s usually on or the other, you know? But sometimes it only crosses over half way. So it’s stuck being half words and half pictures. And then I’m really fucked. Because what the hell am I gonna do with that? I mean who has ever heard of a half movie/half book, right? That’s not even a thing. It’s not a thing, right? Is it a thing?
Shit. I gotta Google it. Be right back.
Okay, so my Googling skills may be a little rusty here, but it seems that it is not a thing which Google has ever heard of.
So, here is my big secret. Okay it’s not really a secret and it really isn’t that big. It’s just that I likely haven’t told many people just because it hasn’t ever come up. Because, frankly most of my interactions these days are with kids, or with adults who also have kids and who want to talk about said kids… and you get the idea. But, I would love to be a screenwriter. Or make movies. Or shorts. Or… something?
Yeah, well, you can see this is like a very vague dream. The kind I’ve done about four and a half minutes of research on before I was like, oh, right, I don’t own a drop of video equipment and I have no experience in this field and I honestly don’t even know what the right title is for a person who writes the story for a movie. Writer of movies? Movie Writer? Or maybe it’s something German. Or Latin. Or a mix, like videomacher.
I vant to be a videomacher.
Well, and also a spy, a midwife, a mechanic, and the person who gets to taste test gluten-free cake for a living. What can I say? I’m a perpetual dreamer. Guilty.
Oh my freaking crap. I have no idea why. But, dream I do, and inside my head are a lot of movies. (Is this normal? Maybe it is… tell me?) and I would like to make them into something. I would like to use actions instead of words to show that which words can’t properly show. Some emotions are so oh-em-gee hard to put into words. You would need approximately–oh, let’s just bullshit a number here for the hell of it–70 billion and a quarter words to show what one small 2 minute scene in a movie can.
What I’m saying here people is that a picture is worth a thousand words. Er, well, sometimes. Because frankly some pictures suck and I’m all leaning over the couch to my husband in typical wifely fashion and being like “psss! Hey, pause that. I’m confused. What just happened? I thought that guy was going to the store and now he’s in Texas!” and my husband is like “oh darling, dear it’s because it was a metaphor—-” Just kidding he’s usually like “Hell if I know, dude.” and I’m like “turn on the effing captions, man!” and he’s like “fine, but they weren’t speaking so that ain’t gonna help”, and I’m like “I know, but I really like captions!”” and he’s like “I can’t find the remote because YOUR kids lost is again” and I’m like “YOU were the one in charge of them when they lost it! They never lose it with me” and he’s like “that’s not true!” and I’m like “DUDE! YES IT IS!” and then he clobbers me with a tire iron because I argue too freaking much.
But, yes, so where was I? Right, movies. Some things just work better when real life people act them out.
Yet, I’m limited, because of the many reasons listed about three paragraphs ago, to using words. So, I try to make the best of it. It can be a real challenge. There are times it doesn’t work and I have to walk away and others when I’m like “holy shit! This is IT!” Because it just happens to be exactly what I want to say. Which, really is my biggest goal. Putting out there what I really wanted to say. Whether the reader agrees, I don’t know. Unless, of course, you tell me. Also, by the way, thanks for telling me. Because, it is actually important what ya’ll think. Even if I try to pretend I’m a bad ass who doesn’t care.
But, you know, still basically eff you if you don’t like it, man. Because this is my baby!
Er um. Did I say that out loud?
Oops. My bad.