Poor, poor Da Vinci...

The rain continues unabated. I should probably save myself the trouble of reporting the weather from this point on. Word has it, coastal cities get a lot of rain. That might be for the best at this point, as it forces me inside to study. Evidence of this blog suggests that plan is going swimmingly.

I've returned to my screenplay (technically, teleplay) with intensity lately. Some recent caffeine-fueled epiphanies have made me return to it. (Warning: inspiration is VERY expensive at Starbucks.) I've deleted some scenes that I was never too fond of, and what I'm quickly learning is that as a writer you can never get too attached to something you've written. You have to treat your words like, well, bastard children. But bastards you can be very proud of when they succeed later in the world. (Note: I don't intend to actually ever produce bastard children.)

The plan is to finalize a draft of the pilot over the holidays and then actually get it into the right hands. Sadly, this is always the hardest step. I've done my research and found it's not exactly like applying to a law school, which is already tough. The criteria is somewhat different: sure, you can get an 85% in Victorian literature, but how many viewers can you get on a Tuesday night at 8/9 central? Actually, that would be sort of an interesting ranking to see, who among your friends could gain the highest viewership ratings, and who would be relegated to the Saturday night slot behind repeats of Da Vinci's Inquest - on CBC no less!

Anyway, I'm a ramblin', which means it's time to refocus, though the light is dim, and the flash is on the fritz....