Circumstantial flummery from a would-be spoonbean hustler.

The Leap of faith is what did me in.

Haven’t felt much like blogging lately as every time I open the editor I feel like I should be spending the energy on my scripts and making myself a better writer. I’ve also been riding the roller coaster of self-defeatism: I’m never going to be able to write as well or as epic as my most favorite writers. I’m not a genius. And I suck. (It’s my blog I can be emo all I want.) So what’s left is a cancer of doubt- the chops ain’t there and aren’t going to be any time soon. I slam my head against a brick wall in frustration, stare at my unmoving pages numbers, ridicule my own plot machinations and wander, aimless, in the wasteland of despair. (Okay, even that’s a little too emo for me. I’ll stop now.)

The problem with this is that I am not subjective. About anything. Irrational is SOP. For example, the North Carolina DMV has branched out in their license plate designs in the last few years- Blue Ridge Mountains, Universities, etc. Most recently they have changed the standard plate to have red text instead of blue text. This bothers me. I harbor a deep, nonsensical loathing of the people with the red-text plates. Is blue not good enough for them? Do they think red makes them exceptional? I don’t even know if the DMV is still ASSIGNING blue text plates, but I’ve already decided the red-texters are evil and must be destroyed. End of story.

So the idea that I’m even capable of assessing my own skills rationally, yeah not so much. I know that I need outside reinforcement and try to be diligent about getting it- my workshop is the main area for this right now and contests to an extent but I know I should be doing more. But honestly that ‘more’ is nebulous and scary and I’m not sure I won’t just fall on my face so I think what I’ve ended up doing is getting back into the ‘I suck, not good enough’ revolving door with Yakity Sax playing knowing that at some point I’m gonna lose my breakfast. Uhg. Just this stupid metaphor is making me nauseous.

BUT… the thing is I still love stories and I still love characters and I desperately want to tell a great story and torment some awesome characters. Sometimes that slips my mind. Then some days I wake up and Indiana Jones is sitting on my desktop and the rest of the world collapses into a singularity of sheer, unadulterated awesome:

click to embiggen

It occurs to me that I’ve seen quite a bit of bloggage about Indy 4 throughout the scribosphere and with good reason. (Also thanks Mystery Man for pointing out the fantastic Shia clip) I’m not going to add much more other than point out at my last name and suggest that may not entirely capture how much of a fan I am of the good Herr Docktor. I’ve cited that simple green screen effect in Last Crusade a million times as the moment I completely lost touch with reality and decided ‘Fuck yeah! That’s the ticket!’ (Which is a little more cliché than I’d like, but shit, it’s the truth) So I have been worried about the entire idea of Indy 4- so many scripts, so much development = years and years of potential for a misstep. But properly seeing Dr. Jones here, one of the first characters I can remember unconditionally loving, I don’t even care. The mantra that I love stories and I love characters comes back to me and the worry sort of disappears. And not just about Indy 4- I genuinely feel a little better about writing, a little recharged and ready to take on more abuse while I’m struggling. Because if my goal is to put together something that might only be a shadow of what Indiana Jones was for me as a kid (hell now even) then yeah, as frustrated as I get, I’m still game for that I think.