O, for a Muse of Fire . . .

I got one of those. A Muse of Fire, that is. I'm understanding what Shakespeare was talking about at the beginning of Henry V.

I'm in the final act of this spec script I've been working on, Mythophobia. I've been worried about it for a while now--I felt like it might be a little too big for me. It could be one of those things that elevates this work to a special place, that makes it different from other films.

Or it could be a pretencious piece of crap.

So, with some anxiety I began working on it yesterday. Worked on it some more just now. So far, I'm pleased.

Sure, it's just a first draft, and it'll need some refining. To me, anyway, that's the easy part. The hard part is getting it down in the first place. Once it's out there it's just a matter of massaging it, snipping parts, moving stuff around, adjusting the flow, and all that.

A good sign--I have a huge playlist in ITunes I use, carefully selected music that provides my imagination with a proper context, a soundtrack, something to assist it in creating this stuff. When I checked I was about twenty songs into it before I quit for now. About an hour and a half. I had no clue I was at it for that long. This, in my experience with how I work, is a Very Good Sign.

I think one more session like that and I'll be through most of it--there will just be the coda, which won't be all that much, really. Maybe by tomorrow afternoon I'll be done with this part, and I'll be able to get out my blue pencil and start hacking away at it. Heh.

There is no feeling like this--putting something together, be it a story, a screenplay, a song, whatever. There is nothing like putting together a project and knowing that, even if it never gets published, produced, or whatever, that it is something special, something rare and worthwhile. That you brought something beautiful, truthful, rare and wondrous into the world.

Nothing like it. Nothing.