The best dreams and goals are the ones that seem to dance on the boundary of impossible… and a lot of them are. In that long battle between sweet dreams and a vicious reality a lot can change, but nothing more than the reality sandwich that’s laced with the sand from that sifting sandcastle.
I have a very good friend that writes like the wind. He’s a writer who at one time made his living at a production company in Los Angeles and he’s relentless in his quest for perfection. His latest screenplay is stellar and he’s been bringing the epic tale to life for two and a half years.
In that time, my friend ‘K’ has written, rewritten, changed outlines, changed complex characters, most of which was in stolen minutes between business meetings and kids sporting events huddled on bleachers. We’ve had countless conversations and meetings year after year. In fairness, not nearly all the meetings were about his story, he’s been instrumental and invaluable to me in my own quest to conquer the war of words.
At long last when ‘K’ finally started to see the lonesome light at the end of his long tunnel, he went into overdrive trying to deliver his latest baby and cut the umbilical cord.
The feeling, anticipation, gratification, and romantic notion of finishing a manuscript is quite remarkable. It conjures up all the countless images told about writers in movies and books that sit down and seem to effortlessly spread words across the pages as if it were as simple as crossing the street.
Even as seasoned a veteran as ‘K’ is when it comes to writing, like all great writers, he’s still a diehard romantic underneath the layers of cynicism and reality.
‘K’ sat hunched over his keyboard – determined to add “THE END” to his latest screenplay. His lips pressed tight, teeth almost gritting, punishing the keys like disobedient children in his quest to cross the finish line.
As ‘K’ finally approached the last few pages his features softened as he tapped the keys like a concert pianist plinking out the denouement of an opera. By the last few lines, his fingers almost whispered to the obliging keys.
After ‘K’ finished, he took a deep breath, blinked hard and pulled his eyebrows and lids as high as he could. He glanced around his office… he was alone. He looked out the office window; grey skies and rain…
The pictures of our ideal romantic notions in our minds rarely get a re-run in reality.
‘K’ laughed knowingly as he shared with me the anti-climatic finishing of his manuscript. My chuckle echoed my understanding.
While striving to create in real life doesn’t always turn up sandcastles, leprechauns, unicorns, and a rainbow dead ending into a pot of gold, but it doesn’t take away the supernatural gift we gain in the process.