Writing shouldn't be this hard

There's a certain irony that the thing I've (for the most part) chosen to trade in on for my livelihood–my ability to string together words and sentences into something vaguely appealing–turns out to be something I don't, on the surface, enjoy.

I've written about this before, so I don't really want to belabor the point, but it's maddening how often writing is almost physically painful for me (and literally physically painful, thanks to too many years spent at ergonomically unsound desks). As with most creative endeavors (and even writing a line of copy for an ad is, despite its transactional nature, still "creative"), inspiration and excitement come in fits and starts, often directly affected by whatever is happening around us in the moment. Fatigue, lack of caffeine, too much caffeine, a distracting song, hunger, conflicting deadlines, Mercury in retrograde–they all play into one's ability to produce or choke.

My challenge always seems to be tied into available time for writing versus drive for writing. Basically, there's an inverse proportion happening: The more time I have available, the less drive I have, and vice versa. Often, I find myself most brimming with ideas and the willingness to execute when I'm on the hook for other priorities demanding attention. Maybe that's because my brain is already looking for a distraction, so breaking an episode or writing a scene becomes that distraction, whereas if I sit down purposely to work on a script, my brain looks for a distraction from that (usually on YouTube).

There are people I know who love writing. It pours out of them. They'll sit for hours and just scribble/type away, words flowing onto their page or screen. And yeah, I used to be able to do that, before I started getting paid to do it. But these days, it's a fight to get out every word, every phrase, every paragraph. That's why when the feeling comes, when a scene or story beat or new concept pops into my head, I have to stop everything and get to writing. Because if I don't, catching that elusive feeling again seems nearly impossible.

Seven Years Later

FADE IN:

INT. HOME OFFICE - NIGHT 

Inside a small bedroom repurposed into a crowded home office, PJ PEREZ (early 40s, salt-and-pepper hair) sits at his cluttered desk, typing on a weathered laptop computer, a BLOGGER WINDOW open on the screen.

PEREZ (V.O.)

It's been seven years since I last updated this blog. And almost a decade since I started a possibly misguided journey into the world of filmmaking. A lot has happened since then, but very little of it that removed any roadblocks on that journey.

Perez leans back, shaking his head at the computer screen. He turns to face the camera directly, breaking the FOURTH WALL.

PEREZ

Okay, to be fair, I probably took a good several years off from those filmmaking ambitions. A lot of creative endeavors got derailed by questionable career moves and business decisions. They were good learning experiences, for sure, but somewhat counterproductive in the short-term.

Perez picks up an empty glass from a coaster atop his desk. He stands up and walks toward the office door leading to a hallway beyond, still directly addressing us.

PEREZ

But before that mess, there were a few productive things that happened after this blog went dormant--after winning the pitch contest and making a well-received 48 Hour Film.

INT. HALLWAY - NIGHT

We continue following Perez, walking through a hallway toward the kitchen.

PEREZ

I split "Being" the television pilot from "Being" the screenplay, turning the latter into "Bleeding Neon," which ostensibly featured the same characters in a different stage of life.

INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT

Perez switches on the kitchen light, then walks up to the refrigerator, filling his glass with filtered water from the in-door dispenser. He takes a sip before continuing.

PEREZ

Most of 2011 and early 2012 was dedicated to my then-band, As Yet Unbroken. We recorded an album, which I produced, and I also shot and edited a ton of videos, using somewhat subpar equipment, including a Flip Mino HD. 

Perez sets down the water glass and pulls a smartphone out of his back pocket. He looks down at it, swiping and tapping as he continues.

PEREZ

After the band broke up, I used that same subpar equipment to shoot a quasi-pilot called "Las Vegas Rules." It was a reaction to a terrible, short-lived reality TV series called "Sin City Rules" in the vein of "The Real Housewives."

Perez holds up the smartphone to us. On it a VIDEO PLAYS. It's the "Las Vegas Rules" clip.

PEREZ

It was entirely shot on the Flip camera, with a borrowed shotgun mic and a few five-dollar clip lights from Target. I edited it with a few free stock footage clips and royalty-free music snippets, and it actually turned out surprisingly polished.

He puts the phone back in his pocket, and walks to the kitchen table, taking a seat in one of the two chairs.

PEREZ

It didn't become a viral sensation like I hoped it would, but it did reinvigorate my filmmaking interest, and expanded the scope of what I thought I could do. Not long after that, I executed on an ambitious plan to quit my day job, and focus all of my energy on creative endeavors, which included the journalistic writing and comic book creation I was already doing, but also screenwriting, music videos and short films.

Perez turns his head toward the exterior window, looking past it into the night.

PEREZ

But I got a little too ambitious.

MONTAGE - SERIES OF FLASHBACKS

1) Perez in a COFFEE SHOP, shaking hands with an extremely TALL MAN in his late 20s.

2) Perez and the TALL MAN opening the door to an EMPTY OFFICE.

3) Perez in the same office, now a small, cluttered PRINT SHOP, manically pulling pages off a printer that are smeared with ink.

4) Perez OUTSIDE AN OFFICE BUILDING, watching a couple of BURLY MEN loading his printer into a truck.

INT. HOME OFFICE - NIGHT

Perez walks back into his home office, setting his glass back onto the coaster as he takes the seat again at his desk.

PEREZ

Anyway, suffice it to say, plans got a little derailed. Scripts sat stagnant on my computer. The only thing close to filmmaking I did for a few years was shooting marketing videos for P.R. clients. Then the Canon Vixia I used to shoot those got stolen. I went back to the corporate world and went back to playing music and working on comics in my free time.

Perez clicks the track pad on his laptop a few times, and pulls up a YOUTUBE VIDEO on the screen. It features various scenes depicting Huntington Beach, California.

PEREZ

But last summer, my wife and I moved to Southern California. I was without a band for the first time in years. Without distractions. And closer to Hollywood than I'd lived since I was a kid. And I wasn't getting any younger.

With a few more clicks, the LAPTOP SCREEN switches from the YouTube video to a GOOGLE DOC.

PEREZ

So I came up with a plan. I wrote down all the creative projects I wanted to complete. It turned out to be mostly filmmaking related--a few screenplays, a documentary, a T.V. series. I was reinvigorated. I got active again in online filmmaking communities, reworked the "Being" pilot, solicited professional feedback, submitted to some contests, even bought a new camera to replace the one that got stolen.

Perez spins around in his chair, again looking right into the camera.

PEREZ

I'm not sure if any of it will get me anywhere. But I feel closer than ever to something happening. And for the first time in many years, I'm inspired and bubbling with ideas. And actually executing on them.

Perez turns back to his laptop. He clicks back to the BLOGGER WINDOW we saw earlier.

PEREZ (V.O.)

And who knows? Maybe I'll even update this blog on a regular basis.

FADE OUT

THE END