How in the hell did I get here?
I had a strange dream about someone writing a novel. One level stranger than that: the dream was about having a dream about someone writing a novel. Except, in the novel, the "author" is writing a screenplay and various notes about it. If you've read
Adios, Scheherazade, you'll get the idea.
So, the screenplay is about a con-woman and the antagonist is a cop and the screenwriter can't get beyond the first scene without inserting a long note about how he's not going to let them "meet cute", followed by a diatribe against the whole notion of meeting cute, ending in a curse on Preston Sturges.
But in the novel, of course, the screenwriter is the protagonist and the director is some sort of antagonist and the con-woman morphs into a production assistant (or maybe actress).
So, in the outer dream I woke up and I thought "this is a pretty good idea for a novel, maybe NaNoWrimo." I dreamed that I started to write it a little and it sort of sucked.
Then I woke up and I still thought this might be a pretty good idea for a NaNoWriMo novel and I wandered off to the site and signed up and even gave them some money before I realized that it was just an idea and probably a bad one -- it was looking pretty bad in the outer dream.
Before I could get myself stopped, I'd read four books on screenwriting -- two very bad and one nothing but gossip, and one pretty good -- and downloaded some scripting software and seriously given some thought to writing a screenplay and making a movie (just back from checking out
Extreme DV at Used Car Prices). If this keeps up, I may have to go back on the meds.
The name of the proposed novel is
Note to Self but I'm thinking it stinks and I don't want to do it anymore.
Not sure if I want to mess with NaNoWriMo this year. Tried it in 2002 and got about 20,000 words of a caper novel done. Stealing a cheetah from Hogle Zoo. Well, not stealing exactly: exchanging two cheetahs without anyone knowing you did it.