Writing can be wonderfully cathartic. Right now I’m working on a screenplay about a woman (Imogene) who is completely fed up with being treated like a leper because she’s single. At one point she just SNAPS and fires back with an angry blog which catches on like wildfire and starts a whole Singles Pride movement.
Unlike this blog, which even my friends and my husband don’t read. On the plus side, I suppose I could say whatever I wanted about hubby and he would never know… He’s a good guy, I think he just forgets the blog exists. Even when I remind him…Repeatedly….
Anyway! Even though my current script is a comedy, our heroine has to suffer in order for her to have the motivation to snap and fire back. Friday I wrote some scenes where a guy asked Imogene out and she really didn’t want to go. She’s been hurt enough and just wanted to remain single for a while. Her friends pushed and bullied her and talked her into going. The guy was wonderful, but in the middle of the date she realized he only asked her attend this work-related party because his girlfriend, Imogene’s coworker, was sick. Everyone thought Immy knew. She didn’t. She was devastated. Crushed. She ended her evening by sobbing in the bathroom.
I won’t bore you (and by you, I mean empty cyberspace…I hear crickets and I think I just saw a tumbleweed blow by…) with the details of my life, but suffice it to say that I had a horrible, terrible, no good, very bad day at work. I feel I am working as hard and as much as I am physically able to, yet everything I do is wrong. Somebody – a client, a supervisor, whoever, is always mad no matter what I do. I’m killing myself to make everybody happy and I just can’t.
So I ended my day yesterday sobbing in the bathroom.
Just like Imogene. There was something comforting about that. I understand her. She’s hurting. She’s in pain. She’s at the very, very end of her rope.
But it’s okay.
Because come Monday morning at 5am, I’ll be at my computer writing again.
And on Monday, that’s when she gets mad.