You know that person who says they learned how to swim when their asshole dad threw them into the river/lake/pond/ocean? Or maybe you are that person. It was a terrifying experience, one that left the traumatized flounder-er seeking professional help in the form of therapy (and maybe swimming lessons at the local Y) for years to come. But what is important to remember is that this person survived, or their harrowing tale would have never seen the light of day.
This is what writing screenplays is like for me. It seems easy at first. I put my pinky toe in, testing the waters. In an instant, my toe testing becomes a belly flop of doom into the dark abyss of screenplay writing. I flounder at my keyboard as I try to adhere to the correct format, treading long enough to catch my breath before the script swallows my head again.
Somehow, I manage to throw myself onto the beach of a deserted island, gasping for breath, thankful for what I was able to accomplish, though I certainly won’t be winning any medals. I did it. My ideas are on paper, somewhat in the correct format, and I am still breathing.
However, the only way to get off this island is to keep swimming. The only way to finish this script is to keep writing. Is it painful? Yes. Is it embarrassing? Absolutely. Will I swim or let my script and my great ideas sink to the bottom of my psyche to never surface again? I am gonna doggy paddle my ass off.
Even if my screenplay doesn’t succeed and I never learn the right way to write one, it will still make one hell of an awesome story.
C. L. Parson
C. L. Parson 