I go to a coffee shop to get away from distractions while I try to write. There’s a family here with three little kids. Apparently the adults don’t know to keep the kids from running around inside while making loud noises. It wouldn’t be so bad if they were like this when I came in and could make the decision to turn around. Instead they don’t start until after I got my coffee and sit down. Oh, well, at least I figured out how to format my word processing program for the script. That is, of course, until I finally break down and buy a copy of Final Draft or maybe get a copy over the holidays.
Or perhaps I’m just making excuses as to why I’m not getting anything done. I did jot down some lines, and it’s true that I can’t concentrate which may affect their quality. But wouldn’t it be better if I kept on going and wrote anything down, which I can fix later?
At this point in writing this blog post I had to leave the coffee shop anyway as they were about to close. I should have gotten a cup to go once I found out, but I reasoned that I still had forty-five minutes. I thought that should be enough to get some writing done. Fat chance with those kids around.
Maybe even going out is a form of distraction. Okay, carbon emissions and paying for gas aside, taking a drive for twenty minutes isn’t the worst thing I could do if I can’t think of anything. Some of my best ideas come to me when I’m unable to write them down. I can only hope that I can remember what I wanted to say once I sit down with my computer or notebook. But what about the time agonizing whether or not I should go, and to where?
Or could be that just agonizing the fact that I’m distracting myself is a form of distraction. Maybe….
Oh, forget it—I just have to sit down and get to work. The truth is that after all of that time trying to come up with an outline for a screenplay I’m not entirely convinced that I have one I can get behind. I was going for something more realistic than recent projects but by doing so I think I may have made it a bit bland. It’s about a writer who can’t come up with anything. The worst part is that it wasn’t until I came up with this story that I had a hard time writing. Maybe it’s a sucky subject. Could it be true that I really can’t write about not writing?
I’m overstating that point of the story. It’s just a character trait. But it’s an important one. I could have written myself into a corner before I started. Now I have the question of whether or not I want to try to write myself out of this corner or to start over. Should I just go back to one of the novels or short stories that I have started instead? I rather hoped that I could work on multiple projects at once.
For now I’ll keep going with this one. I want to see if it turns out to be anything useful. If not, I’ll scrap it and start something else. Here’s a thought: if I have all of these unfinished short stories and novels, why not turn one of them into a screenplay? There’s an idea to keep in reserve.