So, I've just finished the Six Feet Under script - aka The Last Assignment of The Semester.
I've been awake for 18 hours, and I wrote 35 pages in that time. Given that in that time span, I did some grocery shopping, watched some tv, and talked to some parents, that's not too bad a per-hour ratio.
I'm currently running low on paper. The next few minutes should tell whether or not I'm mildly hosed or completely hosed.
I'm now done for the semester. Just Christmas shopping, independent screenplay research, and work to deal with now.
Why am I not tired? I mean, it's clearly coming, and soon. But hasn't happened yet.
I can't tell you how overwhelmed I am by all your kind wishes re: the previous post. It's really too sweet of y'all. It means a lot to me.
Note to Nicky: It's highly unlikely, at this point, the situation you pose would occur. Not even with the consideration of my Joss Whedon anxiety dreams.
(and yes, I will call you soon.)
Refugee from Procrastination Planet:
This is one of those random finds that just amuses me a great deal.