This script I am writing is the most difficult one I've ever done. I suppose that this is what truly separates writers from great writers (which I am not). It's applying oneself to their fiction with ease. It's no longer about recounting the past, it's reaching deep down and bringing out that which makes us human, and exposing it to the world. Far greater even, is the act of exposing it to myself; the past flying into the future with reckless abandon. And yes, it is painful. Taking years of emotion, and squeezing them into a moment in time is taxing to say in the least. I fucked up so many times with her that it's staggering, and those are the memories that are killing me.
I had to stop in the middle of a page just because I ached to hear that voice again. I go back through all those times spent with her, and in a matter of minutes I'm reduced to a mumbling mess of a man. How can someone who has the mental strength to disseminate people's minds through their words be so very vulnerable to a memory of a laugh?
What is there to be done?
I suppose I'll just keep plodding along, trying to finish this. I am 1/5th done now, and still two more weeks to completion (has to be in by the 1st, gotta give the mailman time to deliver it).