Perfect post! Back in the day I slept with a yellow pad and pen on the floor beside me. My note taking was pretty good. Now I'm just insomnia bound with no ideas, and no need for them. Side note: Once I finally had a troublesome scene from a My Sister Sam episode come to me whole, with dialogue, while at a classical music concert (Tchaikovsky? Beethoven?) at the Hollywood Bowl. All I had was a small 2" x 4" notepad in my purse, but I filled those pages. Practically filmed as written.
Loved this one. I have found at times that if I'm wrestling with a problem in a script and I try to think about it as I'm going to sleep I will often come up with a solution that gets me so excited I write it down so I don't forget, and the next day it does, in fact, make sense. But that's if I'm still awake when I think of it. If I come up with something in the dreamy state, it's usually incomprehensible (i.e. reverse toaster - hysterical!) or complete shit. But the absolute worst thing is to be in that nakedly vulnerable state of exhausted but not yet able to sleep . That's when I often find myself suddenly replaying some embarrassing/humiliating/stupid thing I did five, ten, twenty or thirty years ago and feeling the emotions of it all again as if I had just done it. When that happens, I know it's going to be a CBN gummie and two hours of spider solitaire before I get to sleep, if at all. From the hair, I'm guessing Einstein had nights like that, too.
When I invariably get up in the middle of the night to pee, I try my best not to think of anything, particularly plot twists. If I fail and come up with something, the night is lost. Most often the twist is a loser as well. My bladder is a lousy collaborator.
"... at the crossroads of sleep or creation you find out what kind of person you are." - my favorite line of any essay so far. This one reads like a Paul Schrader narration and I love it.
Perfect post! Back in the day I slept with a yellow pad and pen on the floor beside me. My note taking was pretty good. Now I'm just insomnia bound with no ideas, and no need for them. Side note: Once I finally had a troublesome scene from a My Sister Sam episode come to me whole, with dialogue, while at a classical music concert (Tchaikovsky? Beethoven?) at the Hollywood Bowl. All I had was a small 2" x 4" notepad in my purse, but I filled those pages. Practically filmed as written.
Loved this one. I have found at times that if I'm wrestling with a problem in a script and I try to think about it as I'm going to sleep I will often come up with a solution that gets me so excited I write it down so I don't forget, and the next day it does, in fact, make sense. But that's if I'm still awake when I think of it. If I come up with something in the dreamy state, it's usually incomprehensible (i.e. reverse toaster - hysterical!) or complete shit. But the absolute worst thing is to be in that nakedly vulnerable state of exhausted but not yet able to sleep . That's when I often find myself suddenly replaying some embarrassing/humiliating/stupid thing I did five, ten, twenty or thirty years ago and feeling the emotions of it all again as if I had just done it. When that happens, I know it's going to be a CBN gummie and two hours of spider solitaire before I get to sleep, if at all. From the hair, I'm guessing Einstein had nights like that, too.
When I invariably get up in the middle of the night to pee, I try my best not to think of anything, particularly plot twists. If I fail and come up with something, the night is lost. Most often the twist is a loser as well. My bladder is a lousy collaborator.
“Are you someone who will sacrifice anything for five more minutes?”<—-yes
I sleep better at nap time.
"... at the crossroads of sleep or creation you find out what kind of person you are." - my favorite line of any essay so far. This one reads like a Paul Schrader narration and I love it.