In The End, It Doesn't Really Matter

I adore Anna Friel. I adore her black and blue.

I miss internet access and email at work. Arguably it helps because it cuts off those distractions and forces me to work on the writing, but I've gotta write longhand or type something up and print it out at the end of the day. A lot of things would be easier if I had electronic access to the outside world.

And ten hours a day is a long ass stretch to get through when it's dead. Being cut off from the world, it feels like being in a straitjacket.

Small sacrifices, I know.

New script's shaping up. Hammering away at the structure but I ought to be good to start the heavy lifting this weekend. Trying to design it so that it's fun for me to write. (As fun as writing can be.)

I know, this must be absolutely fascinating for you to read about.