I'm coming to one of two points. Either I'll have the time to get to writing without an issue or I'll come to a point where I'll know I have no choice but to make time.
With the passing of my father, Pop, RIP, I find myself thrown back to the effort he put to blacksmithing and his dedication to it. I think, too, that at one point he convinced himself to dream of a pie in the sky future that never came to be. After that, he redoubled his efforts to live the core of his dream. I'm not sure if that was a thought process he went through precisely, but that sounds very much like a process he would have used.
I am reminded I need to redouble my own efforts to live my dreams. Not necessarily reaching for the pie in the sky, but holding on firmly to the core of what I love and what I desire.
I have two projects bouncing about my brain. One I've been discussing with Kimberly Rae and another I'll probably write on my own. I may even jump off the deep end enough to take them both on and juggle them.
Both prevent a conflict in my mind, one I struggle with as a creator and a viewer.
The struggle between discipline and gratuity.
On the one hand, I have written Story strength and length, in large part praising a simple hand in storytelling.
As a reader and fan, I read Machete Home Video Review by Richard Harland Smith. In the review, he wrote, "When they represented the work of journeyman directors or careerist hacks, exploitation movies of the 1970s went down like truck stop steaks: lean, tough, afflicted by occasional instances of bone and gristle but rarely any fat. It's a pity, then, that the contemporary filmmakers who love those movies with such fervor that they attempt, thirty and forty years down the pike, to pay homage to them cannot follow the original recipe."
Part of me agrees.
And yet another part simply loves Machete and loves the very excesses criticized. I love the overstuffedness, the jam-packed with strange characters quality that separates it from the original movies that it sets out to mimic... while still loving those movies, loving the perfection of their simplicity, most likely even preferring it.
But still feeling the draw of the packed story, brimming with all but the kitchen sink.
Perhaps I'll split the difference and tell one in one style and the other in the other.
I'm not sure. Getting there. From here on, less planning and more doing.