The day before yesterday my script was worthy an Oscar.
Yesterday it turned into shadows and dust.
It is rather tiresome to have a writing-mind that flip-flops like this and can’t take a stand somewhere in between.
Because, hello, that is likely the truth.
My script is not worthy an Oscar. At least not until I’ve got the third act in one piece.
Yet it is more than shadows and dust. Of that I’m certain.
I started to do a general, critical overview of the script yesterday and from being a Holy Grail the cup turned unpolished, from that to dirty and finally became a used coffee cup in paper, crumbled.
Why do I have to be so dramatic, like there is no hope?