My mother is afraid of heights. Won't go near an edge that has a drop further than the front stoop of a hobbit house. I was thinking the other day of the clear bridge that was built a few years ago over the edge of the Grand Canyon. You know the one...you step out over the brink so that the only thing between you and a thousand foot drop is clear glass. It's strong enough to hold both you and the urine leaking out of your pants when you lose control of your bladder, but it doesn't feel like it. Specifically, I was thinking what would it take to convince her to go out there? Just a few steps. The life of her kids? Nah...we're getting old now and have had good lives. That's not nearly enough. Her own life? Probably not, as she would have a heart attack out there anyway. World peace? Maybe, but I have my doubts. The truth is...nothing.
That's exactly the same fear I have when it comes time to take the big step in a rewrite. The step that changes everything. The one where huge amounts of scenes, lovingly crafted and imagined for months, get deleted. Where whole characters have their lives adjusted at the push of a button. Sex change...yep...can do! Kill 'em off...easy! Toss them in the gutter and make their lives hell. That's just a few simple strokes.
You thought you knew what the story was about. You believed you had it nailed. You were sure it was perfect. Truth is, it wasn't ever the right story. This has happened in every screenplay I've written so far. It's pretty goddamn scary. Once started you can never go back. Once you begin to un-weave the tapestry it will never be the same. You do everything you can not to start. Even write in your blog.
But...it's time to step out on the platform. Damn...I hope it holds up.
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