That's what the inside of my rusty brain looks like now but not nearly so pretty.
This feature script draft is giving me a headache. I've been trying to drag out of it something serious that hits lots of resonant points and has important things to say and every time I try to make it behave, it just pokes me in the eye and runs away wearing a pink tutu and a flowery hat. What I mean is that this draft seems to know it's actually a big fun, fluffy tale with a bit of a soft heart, and it's refusing to be corralled into anything else. Have you ever found a draft running away with itself?
I suspect it's a good thing although it is hugely frustrating. I've decided to let the tutus have it though, as this amount of resistance is making me think that maybe I am the one in the wrong, and the big fun, fluffy tale is the one who knows its way. Fly my pretties, and don't blame me if you end up with candyfloss on your face.
BTW if you get the chance to see Robin Ince talking about his new book about Bad Books, then run along forthwith as it's very funny, includes killer crabs and Mills & Boon quotations, and some free jazz and tap-dancing. I laughed myself just about sick (but not quite).
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