The Homing stretch

So, there’s writing, which I find not particularly hard. Then there’s rewriting, which I hate and fear, but am trying to learn to embrace (remind me to talk more about that some time). Then there’s taking something you’ve written, rewritten, re-rewritten and had published and…writing it again.

That’s a real feat. I’ve been wrestling with the treatment for Homing (the movie) for some time now. Lots of reading and thinking and making notes and writing and thinking and rewriting and thinking and then rewriting again. Oh, and some movie watching too. I finally finished the process yesterday around 5pm. I felt roughly the way I did upon finishing the writing of the novel in the first damn place. Triumphant, relieved, terrified, totally tapped out.

What an odd experience to write that story again, same but different. Many things stayed the same, but a surprising number of details changed necessarily. At this point, it still feels very much like Homing the book. I understand that things may yet change in future iterations of Homing the movie, but I feel okay about that at this point. I may have more to say about this some time in the future. For now, I’m just glad I can move to the next phase… sending the treatment to the producers, and chilling out for a bit.

So, you know, mission accomplished, thus far.


Still thinking about it

In true vacation form, I was felled by a miserable cold. And then it started raining, and who knows when it will stop? So, it’s been like that.

We’ve been a busy couple of vacationers. Kev‘s been working as hard as he can getting his record finalized. Album art, check. Looks great. Got it mastered by the guy he wanted, check, listening to it right now, sounds great. Get it all off to the duplicators, well, that’s been a bit complicated, but we’re getting there.

Last night he took the mastered disc out to the car to listen to it. I couldn’t sleep, despite a liberal dose of cold medication (or maybe because of) and so I slipped on a dress and flip flops and padded out in the pouring rain to join him in the car and listen drowsily. Great way to hear it. Highly recommended. I hope you find at least oneĀ  great rain storm after you get your copy of Son of a Rudderless Boat, coming soon to a folk festival stage near you (provided Lunenburg is near you).

As for me, I have yet to set hands to keyboard for the purpose of writing the treatment. This is so my MO. I write at the very last minute, and then only if my life depends on it. I can see it all so clearly in my head. I see Leah in scenes that aren’t in the book, but are nonetheless her scenes, scenes that came so naturally, I must have always known I’d need them for some other purpose. And Henry, my god, he couldn’t be more alive to me if he actually lived next door. Don’t tell the others, but Henry’s my favourite.

Anyhow, as with every single vacation here in the Sheridan Homelands, it doesn’t matter how much time we spend, it’s never, ever enough. We have a week left here, and there are still so many people to see, three decks to build (today was supposed to be the day, but see under: rain. Actually, Tuesday was supposed to be the day but see under: ridiculous cold), a CD to pick up and a treatment to write.

If we ever took the kind of vacation that involved flying over a body of water larger than the Saint Lawrence Seaway, how would we ever get anything done? I imagine if I ever had a real vacation, I’d be dangerous.

And how’s your July?