How long since my last post? Jeez – so much for “a page a week”!
As I write this, Mack is unpacking from a much-needed 2 week holiday, which is why there’s been no art for a while. Mind you, he still managed to send me a bunch of texts, including a New Idea and some angry rants about us stalling and not just getting the damn thing done.
He has a point.
A dear friend of mine and fellow-scribbler Saxon Bullock has just finished the mother of all rewrites and is suffering from the Finishing Blues. A crisis of faith that’s sent him heading for the Ice Cream and Jack Kirby collection.
But writing “The End” is the hardest line, as it means you’ve made a conscious decision to put down your pen, leave the keyboard alone. The work is now out of your hands, ready to get out there in the world.
And that’s a scary thought.
All writers are, on some level, control freaks. Why else would we spend so much time in our heads, playing gods? And to relinquish control takes a LOT of ice-cream and Jack Kirby collections.
It’s been said that no art is finished, merely abandoned. I’m not saying what I do is ‘art’ but that wrings true. At Mack’s suggestion, we’re going back to an earlier project and I’ve just re-read the script for Issue One (yes – I got as far as “The End”) and I’m still happy with the work, apart from one line of dialogue.
One line that’s changed a million times in the last year.
Sadly, if I pick the wrong version of this line, I’m convinced that the entire story arc will get stuck on the wrong path.
Oh FFS! It’s one line in 20 pages. Just one line in one issue of a larger story.
But try letting that go, when you still have time to edit. It’s damn-night impossible.
So, I’m back off to stare at a blank page until that perfect line bleeds out of my forehead and attaches itself to the page.
I remember seeing a documentary about Ridley Scott where his sons complained that he’d rearrange the furniture in their house every weekend that he was home. When asked about this, he said he felt that he was being followed by a Black Dog and, if he didn’t stop moving, the dog would get him.
