Little Bill

Is it writer’s block or sheer laziness that I haven’t finished a screenplay in a long time, and that, because of this, I haven’t made a single short film (or long film, or any film for that matter!) in the five years I’ve lived in New York?

I just spent ten minutes on “story ideas” websites, trying to get my creative juices flowing. I have some limitations I’ve got to put into place. I see limitations as creative challenges, more than anything, but still — I need an idea. My limitations:

- The story needs to be upwards to 10-15 minutes long. No longer.
- It has to be within my means to film, either in Upstate NY or New York City
- Two to three characters MAX.
- Up to five scenes MAX.
- Nothing that requires extensive (or any) special effects.

Those really aren’t much for limitations. So why is it I just can’t get myself to crank out a few story ideas? The ones I start are interesting scenarios but offer very little in terms of character development or theme. Or they’re just outright depressing.

For those writer friends of mine, how do you break out of a block? Or, better yet, do you have any stories you’d like for me to film? :)

This weekend has left me in a state of disquiet. I’m not sure how better to put it. I had a now-former friend visit for the weekend. I’ll admit to some expectations. I’m not quite sure what they were, but I will say that even my lowest expectation — the manner in which you treat someone you hold dear and close to you — was left shattered.

Simply put, I was lied to by someone I never expected to lie to me. My friend could argue till she’s blue in the face that she had no idea she was offending me and hurting my feelings, but I know her better than that. She is a person who places a great deal of weight in appropriate and proper behavior and knows that what she did was uncool. To say otherwise or to claim ignorance on the matter would be a blatant lie from this particular person. A lie told, incidentally, to my face. In doing so, she betrayed a few other lies to me, some of which may have been designed to spare my feelings; but they were lies nonetheless.

I don’t care if my feelings get hurt. I can get over that. I do care when I call someone on something so obviously rude (details are unimportant for this entry) and I’m lied to by the person saying they had no idea it would be interpreted as such. It not only insults me, but it insults my intelligence, the liar’s intelligence, and it insults the trust I hold in my friends.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m by no means a perfect person and I make my share of mistakes. But never would I tell an outright lie to someone I counted among those I cared so deeply about.

I’m left questioning my judgment in naming a friend as such. And that, more than anything else in recent memory, makes me feel very lonely.