So I’m writing a sit-com.
I’m very excited about it, as indeed I am about all the things I’ve just begun.
In CM world you see, a new project is like a new lover, there to provide excitement, novelty and be the source of wildly irrational infatuation to obsess over.
Note to self: might want to think about re-wording that last sentence. It kinda makes you sound like a far wilder woman than you are.
On second thought, keep it.
So this week as I was in my new downtown studio – and OH MY GOLLY I ACTUALLY TOOK PHOTOS!!! Forgot ’bout that! Will get them up in the next day or so, huzzah! – I decided that rather than continue day-dreaming about my illustrious future as a sit-com writer/actor, I should perhaps actually start to write the damn thing.
Shocking, I know. Who’da thought?
You mean that if you actually want to get somewhere you’ve gotta start walking?
Forget joining the revolution. I AM the revolution, people.
So I’ve started by fleshing out the characters. And yes, the main one is based somewhat on me. Somewhat. She’s not me. Absolutely not. But she does indeed have a number of my personality traits, albeit exaggerated and put out of context. Case in point: I would NEVER actually feed my kids leftover apple pie for breakfast. She would. But me? Heck no.
I’d be saving that shizz for myself.