program for British Women in Screenwriting.
Also - a long weekend with Corry and John, travelling through London on
the proceeds of a writer's grant. They'll be living in an apartment in
a hill town in Umbria for 3 months (Bastards!). Made faggots.
February: Frantic writing to meet deadline for a careers conference at
my old school. I have no idea what I can say except - "a career in
screenwriting involves 10 years training and practise and something like
90% of successful screenwriters leave the industry within 10 years of
their break through". Not sleeping well - actually, that an
understatement. By the end of the month I am subsisting on 2 hours a
night. Zombification ensues.
March: Frantic writing to produce new draft of old screenplay at
request. Also write, design and print manage new company brochure.
Still not sleeping - except for the 15 minutes face down on the keyboard
after lunch.
April: Volcanic Ash, Flu and Florence: While everyone was talking about
the new Dunkirk, and repatriating brits from Spain via the Bay of
Biscay, I was heading in the opposite direction, by train to Florence.
It rained and I shared an overnight carriage with 4 terrified teenage
boys. Woke up to rain and the smell of feet. No one can produce
trainer- reek as effectively as a 16 year old male. Or sleep so
soundly. Arrive Florence. Eat Gelato.
May: Writing frantically to meet deadlines for Galway Film Fair. Summer
arrives - even at the stone caravan. Then it disappears again. Obsess
about Gelato.
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