Tonight, my Tuesday night 6:30 - 9:30 screenwriting course begins at NW Film Center in downtown Portland. Teacher will be Randall Jahnson. If you've been following my bucket list quest, you'll recall that I took time off from rewriting novels to write a science fiction film two summers [or so?] back. I enjoyed the process and thought I might be able to do that in my declining memory years. One-hundred pages of film script is easier to keep in mind than a 500 page novel. Two of my novels are open to turning into film scripts.
For the past week, I've been full of fear about the course, telling myself I have nothing more to say, telling myself I'll be out of place among young writers, imagining they'll laugh at this 79 year old codger trying to turn out film scripts. I questioned myself violently, doubting everything about myself and hit myself over the noggin with my financially unsuccessful writing career. I experienced moments of fear that reminded me of the fears I felt when I put the bottle down 40-some years ago, i.e. how will I be funny and pick up girls...I'll be so alone, etcetera. One fear was about the expense of parking in Portland, then I looked into taking the Max line in from PDX but was deterred from that by my fear of standing at 9:30 pm in downtown Portland waiting for the Max line to show. They run the last two runs to PDX at 9:55 and 10:30. I truly want to learn to take the Max line into Portland, so I'm compromising tonight. I drove in to park expensively in a garage near the school, then I'll look around as I leave the school at 9:30 to see how scary it might feel at the stop I'd need to wait at.
Here's looking at you. This will be short and sweet. Got to get on to exercise. Yesterday I pushed myself hard on the bike and brought my heart rate to the "high level" for a 79 year old male. I felt invigorated afterwards. I'm emerging from the physical weakness created by the radiation treatments for prostate cancer. Am rewriting Ghoul World at a chapter a day pace and believe it's as readable as a novel can be. Where in hell is that perceptive agent who sees its worth and its cinematic potential? Yesterday 82 people looked in on The Silent Boomer writing blog, AND I got news about a poem of mine that I won't disclose until it's confirmed by contract. It's a bit more than a publication in an anthology and encouraging and humbling at same time. AND tonight is my first film at the Portland International Film Festival: We Are The Flesh. Wahoo!
