For the last 36 days, my life has been kind of a mess. I’ve had a flicker of inspiration that I tried to keep alive. When I had words, I pored them all into my screenplay. I was sick a lot and there were many days that I had no words at all. I’ve watched a lot of TV and movies in the last month. When I was tired and empty but felt productive I focused on my other creative outlet, crochet. Yes, I’m 35 and I crochet. I’ve been making a grannie square afghan for over a year and I’m a few rows from being finished. That at least gave me a sense of accomplishment. The last thing that has filled my days has been trying to find a new home for my family. It’s been very hard and very discouraging. There might be places in the U.S. where I can get a two bedroom apartment (we should really have a 3 bedroom, one for each kid) in a good school zone for $800 a month but it’s certainly not anywhere in fucking Utah. We’re planning on leaving Utah soon but can’t yet. More on that another day.
So it’s been a rough month. I have been sick a lot. There have been more days than I can count that I didn’t get out of bed. My pain has been terrible, I’ve been exhausted without relief and mostly in despair with small glimpses of hope and at the very most, okayness. Once in a while I would have days that weren’t just complete shit.
At the end of May, I’d done so much work on my screenplay that it stood at 90 pages. It’s almost done. But there was still some stuff missing and no matter what angle I looked at it, I couldn’t figure out what it was. So I turned to my editor.