A few days ago, I finished writing a script.  It was the fourth draft for that particular script and it was a great relief to have reached that point.  And with that done, I just sort of turned off my brain.  It was weird because I really hadn't given much thought to what I would do after finishing that particular script.  Yes, I'd print it out and hand it to that small tortured group who gets all of my stuff dropped in their lap to critique.  But beyond that, only vague ideas of what to do next.

After my brain was off for a couple days I realized how odd it felt not to be constantly writing.  And let me clear that when I say constantly writing, I do not mean being chained to the computer, tapping away endlessly on the keyboard.  Typing is the easiest thing about writing and takes the least amount of time.  Most of the work goes on in my head, often while doing mindless activities.  There's a reason I've held onto an otherwise unappealing job for so long.  It allows me time to think.  A more engaging job would probably be more rewarding, both financially and mentally, but it wouldn't give me time to let my brain go on the journeys that let me write.  For the last few days, I haven't been doing that and it's a strange uncomfortable feeling.

Way back in February of this year, I was kicking around a new script idea.  It was an idea I liked a lot and it gave me an excuse to finally write in the sci-fi genre.  Despite reading almost nothing besides sci-fi, I had written pretty much anything else.  And better yet, this idea was going to force me to improve my writing because the main character would not be male and would be more or less sane, which is pretty much the polar opposite of my usual protagonist.  And I kicked this idea around my head for a few weeks before writing, which also went on for a few weeks.  And then the guilt started getting to me.  Ever since I made the decision to attempt a career as a screenwriter, I said that I would work on my craft before trying to sell a script.  The idea was to stand apart from the crowd by being highly professional and more polished than a typical starting writer.  And the concrete description of this goal was to have three finished and well developed scripts in hand before seeking an agent.

The guilt was getting to me because I had three finished scripts in hand but none of them felt like they had been fully developed yet.  Each one was probably going to need one or more rewrites before it was good enough to face the glare of the public light.  And here I was starting a fourth script.  So with regret I set aside this new project to start grinding away on the older ones.  This was the responsible thing to do.  If screenwriting is to be my job, I need to treat it accordingly.  Starting a new script is great fun, but not in keeping with my goals at that moment.  And from that point until just a few days ago, I was driving myself relentlessly to get this done.

So I'm at a point where it's time to make a decision.  Are these three scripts good enough for my goal?  I'm not sure.  A little feedback from my early readers will answer that question for me.  So far, on two of them, the answer is probably yes.  Maybe a couple minor tweaks but nothing large enough to call for an entire new draft.  My hunch is that the third script will need one more draft.  But this is just a guess.  I'm too close to it to be objective.  So feedback from others will tell me if I'm right or not.

And after that...

Obviously I'll pick up that sci-fi project again.  But more importantly, it's clear that the next step is just about here.  And that terrifies me.

I'm confident in my abilities as a writer.  So it's not like I feel I'm not up to the job.  What scares me is that the process from here on out involves a lot of rejection.  I've spent a few years in a bit of a cocoon, working on my writing far from the harshness of the world.  The odds of immediately finding an agent and immediately selling a script are pretty remote.  Sure, it could happen.  But it probably won't.  Realistically, this will take years and add considerable scar tissue to my soul.  That's fine, I'm prepared for that price.  But it won't be fun, and might actually hurt a lot.  So it's a bit hard to take that step, knowing full well what it means.

The short version (yes, I know, too late) is that I'm standing at the edge of a pool with a toe in the water, shivering and dreading the plunge.  But I always love swimming once I get past that early reluctance, so let's get it over with.