Okay, I did write today, and I think I did very well. I was writing on the Dead & Breakfast story I was considering calling "Who You Gonna Call?" and got right up to the part where the guests start to show up (it's one of those stories where the author has to conceal something important from the reader, and I don't know how long I can keep that up . . . but it'll be fun to try). The problem is, I was away from my computer, so my writing I did in my notebook, and I'm not going to waste time counting the words tonight.
I'll have to type them up anyway, so I'll leave the word count blank today, and see if I can't count 'em up tomorrow at the library (UPDATED - done, but it took a long time).
I'll try to blog a bit about today's work too, but I guess I have to be vague about it (I've only ever had to sign a NDA working on a film set three times--1) "Desperate Housewives," 2) A Super Bowl commercial [the one where I wrote "Choice of a Sidekick"], and 3) Today).
But I did want to mention a couple interesting things that occurred today. One was that there were a few ridiculously attractive people working on the show, both girls and guys (I only noticed one what's-his-name-from-TWILIGHT-looking dudes, but there were probably more). It was kind of startling, because I'm used to not seeing many extraordinarily good-looking people all in one place--it's usually one who walks into a room and all heads turn, because they are atypical.
But I guess on a TV series, they're going to go for that sort of thing because, well, why wouldn't they? It explains why I'm continually denied work on these projects lately, though. But anyway, something that I observed was that, although all doors open for these real-life fembots (and menbots too), they got called onto set in the very first batch, and placed right there around the principle actors, so they were in pretty much every single set-up, right in front of the camera. That meant that these beauties were working while the rest of us just sat around, waiting to be used. The rest of us read, ate, spoke to one another, wrote (in my case), dorked around on our phones or laptops, or slept.
I don't know if that's interesting to you, but it sure was to me.
Also, at the table I observed a girl drawing human eyes in a notebook. I watched what she was doing--drawing two eyes on a page, then going to the next page and drawing more eyes (sometimes it was more than two, one time it was one). Finally, I crossed the table and went over to talk to her, to compliment her art, see if she does it all the time (thinking, maybe I could ask if she'd do a cover for me sometime), and feel out whether she might like to go to a hotel with me for the night (she had driven 168 miles/270 kilometres to work on the show that morning).
I sure would like to say that that all worked out fine, and I was rewarded for actually getting out of my shell for once. I wish I could tell you that, but prison is no fairytale world. I think me noticing her drawing made her uncomfortable, and she became self-conscious all of a sudden (of course, if it had been YOU that noticed, it would've been another kettle of fish).
Another thing I wanted to talk about was sitting at a table with a strange man, and watching him arrange the silverware, his glass, his napkin, and pieces of pizza in a manic, OCD sort of way. Pieces of pizza, kids. At one point, he was looking over at my side of the table, agitated . . . and I realized my fork and knife were not parallel to each other.
Maybe I'll podcast about it, and try not to say what the show wa--
You know, I don't think it's the name of the show they're worried about. I think it was people filming the shooting, taking selfies on the set, and/or reporting on story developments they're trying to avoid. And I didn't do any of that. Darn it.
Tomorrow is going to be a near-record high temperature for March. I guess I should take advantage of it, before Coronavirus steals my precious bodily humours.
Oh, one last thing before I go to bed. I grabbed the travel bag I always take with me up to the cabin to work with me this morning, and I literally filled it with craft service food (unlike some, when I say "literally," I mean it in English...I mean, the zipper didn't want to close all the way), which was something I started doing in Los Angeles when I was dirt poor (I would take five apples instead of just one, so I'd have something to eat over the next two days). It's something I can't stop doing: every time I go to the craftie table, I grab two of something (and because I'm sort of dieting, I didn't even eat any of it today) and put it in my bag.
So, when I got home, I got my nephew to help me unload this bag, with chips and cookies and candy and tangerines and cashews and fish crackers and Starbursts and pretzels and Slim Jims . . . and digging around in it, what did he find? Well, my camera, the FauxPro that I bought so I could record "Tales of eBay Horror" episodes on, and I had lost months and months ago, telling everyone that my two year old nephew must've thrown it in the trash can.
I plugged it in, and it has three TOEHs on it, as well as the tour of the family cabin I did for Gino . . . and oh my sombrero-wearing God, I recorded it right after I shaved my head, so my hair looks like if Charlie Brown had a baby with Mister Peanut.
The good news is, I can start making videos again (that don't have Vertical Video Syndrome). But the bad news is, I don't know if that tour video will ever see the light of day.
Rish Outfield
P.S. Okay, I went to the library the next day (3-6), and typed up my words, so here's today's report:
Words Today: 2186
Words in March: 6,977
No comments:
Post a Comment