When all else fails, do the thing you’re afraid of.
Okay, let me back up. The thing I’m afraid of, apparently, is writing a bad screenplay. I already resolved to write it (as bad as it needed to be to get done), then re-write it to make it good. I took the bad part out of the equation. I set a firm deadline for when I wanted a draft done (by the time I leave for SDCC) and set about writing. I made some strong progress up front, slowed, and then… Well, I haven’t written anything on the screenplay since late last Wednesday.
Really? A week off with two weeks to go and two thirds to write? Good plan, jerkface.
I wasn’t happy with what I was writing. I had written ten pages of manuscript that I somehow slogged through, hating nearly everything I typed. But I was moving forward. And then… I dunno. I let myself get caught up in editing, distractions, and being lazy (watching the entire season of a TV show I found out about on Monday night for example).
Tonight I was frustrated by the fact that I was spending another night in front of the TV instead of writing, and was angry about it but not enough to stare at the screen and type a few words. So I stopped the TV, walked into the bathroom, and did 95% of what I was afraid of.
If you’ll recall, I added a little punishment to my deadline for the screenplay. Namely, shaving myself baby-faced smooth right before Comic-Con if I didn’t get a first draft done. And I realized, sitting there watching TV, that I had thought more about the threat of being shorn and looking young than I had writing. And that goes for pretty much every day for the last week. Not to say I’ve been focused on grooming, but it should tell you how much I haven’t been writing.
So I walked into the bathroom, grabbed the beard trimmer, put on the smallest guard/length attachment, and shaved myself down as far as it goes. A little bit left so I’d have something solid in a week’s time if I earn it, but enough gone so that I had a pretty good preview of what I’d be missing if I didn’t get my shit handled and finish on time.
For the record, I hate not having a beard (or goatee). Mainly because I hate how I look when I walk in front of a mirror without one. People don’t care, and I don’t care what people think, but I know not finishing and shaving means I’ll suffer through a show without the armor that being a man who can grow a beard gives.
So I did it. Shaved it off, saw what’s waiting for me in 6 days time if I fuck up. And I still don’t know if I’ll write anything tonight…