Sunday, November 13, 2011

Writer, Sell Thyself

I've hit a bit of a wall the past couple days.

If you tuned in for last week's hair-raising episode, you know that our hero (that would be me) is now unemployed and working to get his creative career back on track after about 20 months of not-so-fulfilling work.

And that's nice, isn't it? It is downright precious.

Now comes the part that I knew would take me out at the knees, the part that I've been dreading from 100 yards off and am now facing, its dripping putrid maw mere inches away from my somewhat less putrid maw.


Jeezus, the mere term provokes a gag reflex, doesn't it?

Dear world,

I am awesome.


That's about the size of it, huh? Convince the world that you are fantastic while secretly wrestling with the deep and highly personalized doubt monsters that tell you otherwise. These monsters know where I live. They know all my weak spots. They can poke me with their scaly little fingers and I'll go rigid and silent while the world walks by, oblivious.

It's not that I haven't been working on a plan. I have. Build up my website. Get more samples online. Crank out some new spec screenplays. Query producers. Gently re-enter the game writing market. It looks great on paper. But in my head it goes more like this:


Which is not entirely productive.

Anyway, working on it. Tips and suggestions and swift blows to the head would be appreciated.

(Found the picture online in 2000. No idea where. If you own it or know who does, lemme know. My internal dialogue is the raccoon. I'm the dog. In case that wasn't clear.)