I mean, nice of you to show up.
i know. late night.
The day’s half over.
Writing time is gone. Do your taxes.
i will. but for now, i ‘m just going to do a page or two.
Forget taxes. You should go running. You’re inert.
i know. i will. but for now, if you wouldn’t mind, just an hour.
Suit yourself. Go write “Lilly and the Land Lubbers” or whatever you’re calling it now.
not what i’m calling it. but thanks.
Did you read that last page back?
I mean, no offense, but…
it’s a first draft.
I mean, you’ve done worse…
do you mind?
…just not lately.
i’m ignoring you.
Maybe we should take a step back. Read from page 1. See if it’s worth continuing.
i let you talk me into that tuesday. wiped out a writing session.
Not my fault you’re a slow reader. Have you seen that app they’re developing where the words with the red letter flash by and they can get even guys like you up to 500 words per minute? What was it called? You should google it.
later. writing right now.
Might help shrink that stack of half-finished books on your nightstand. By the way, I like how one of them is called “The Four Hour Work Week.” Hahaha. Good one. What was that about?
i can’t remember.
Maybe you should finish it.
not a good time. anyway, quiet, please?
Right. Sorry. “Genius at work!” Nobody disturb the genius.
By the way, you need to go to the storage unit today, pick up some DVDs and CDs for the distributor.
What? You wanted me to remind you. I’m reminding you.
but right now?
You weren’t writing anything. Five whole minutes of nothing.
sometimes nothing is something.
Umm… wow. Mind if I cross stitch that on a pillow or something?
just one page. that’s all i’m asking.
Yeah, but at the “nothing is something” pace, we’re not going to get our taxes or running or storage unit or anything else done. Sometimes nothing is nothing. Cross stitch that on your pillow.
all right. i’m reading back just the last couple of pages, but that’s it. happy?
Just trying to do my bit, dude. I’ll be quiet. Good luck with that.
Don’t say a word.
not saying a thing.
I’m going running.
wait. hold on. it’s not shakespeare. but it’s not that bad.
Maybe taxes first while it warms up a bit.
what about the bit with the sweater? that was pretty good.
The whole thing is crap.
it’s not crap. it’s a first draft, dude. chill. have a diet coke or something.
It’s 8:30 in the morning.
and your point is?
My point is… nothing. I’ll be right back.
ah. now isn’t that better?
You were right.
have a coke and a smile.
Not about that. About the writing thing.
i’m not right. i’m just doing my job. remember that thing the one guy said at the oscars? when he was introducing the screenwriting oscars? ah, who was it? travolta?
Pretty sure it wasn’t Travolta.
Can’t. Gotta go running. When I finish this Diet Coke.
here. i’ll do it.
got it. it was de niro. the mind of a writer can be a truly terrifying thing. isolated, neurotic, caffeine-addled, crippled by procrastination and consumed by feelings of panic, self-loathing and soul-crushing inadequacy. and that’s on a good day. see? just doing my job.
Yeah, well, you’re pretty good at it.
just saying a lot better writers than you have been saddled with this kind of stuff.
you’re welcome. now go on. half a page. or hey, maybe more of that “nothing is something” stuff, even. here, let me put something on pandora, get you in your groove thing.
Oh, that’s nice.
it’s mindy. thought it might help inspire your little love letter to provo thing. your “lily in the lap of luxury” thing.
Not what it’s called.
or whatever it’s called.
Ok. Maybe just another half hour.
let’s take it.
crap or not.
we can fix it later!
Maybe we can!