Sisyphean Days

I'd feel better right now—I'd feel easier—if I were making faster progress on my script. If it weren't a process of me getting home from work and banging my head against the keyboard, tracing and retracing over the same words. Adjusting a line break. Or an adjective.

It's like I'm fucking painting with words. At a certain point, it's not about content! The scene is still just a father driving his son to school. But I'm sooo concerned with how each page LOOKS. The flow of words, of lines, of paragraphs—these suggest images. And I know that if this line breaks *correctly*, the entire page is going to be brought into harmony.

I'm going crazy.

What can I do this evening? How far can I get?

Jesus. I've got so much to prove.