That exhilarating, terrifying moment of cracking open a project and staring down into the chasm; breathing becomes difficult.
Today I’m listening to Bowie’s ‘The Motel’.
At the end of last year, I was creatively spent. I'd had two massive years in which I made two short films, moved cities, travelled interstate and overseas to a bunch of festivals, developed projects, submitted funding applications, and worked full-time.
So over the summer I took a break. I went to bed early, got up and watched the sun rise, took long walks, swam in the icy waves of Bondi, watched movies, read books, listened to podcasts, and napped a lot. It's the best thing I could have done.
And now I'm back to writing again.
I've been redrafting a short film script that I've had in development since late 2015. It's a story that I love and a film that I'm so excited to make later this year. It's moved forward significantly over the last two months, becoming something that feels a bit magic.
I've submitted that project for funding, and now I'm turning my attention back to my feature. It's a twisty, knotty thriller and I've been struggling to find my way back into it after my extended break. It feels like I'm starting from scratch as I approach this new treatment.
In trying to break the story last year, I lost sight of the forest for the trees. I also lost sight of all the delicious dramatic questions and themes that drew me to this project in the first place. So this last month has been about exercising my writing muscles, allowing myself to dream, and finding the love again.
I'm really glad I took a break.