You Are Here.

 This is for me. This is to remind me where I am. 

I've seen the first rough-cut of "Muirgen", my second short film. I've studied it and sent notes to the editor, Steph, who seems to understand exactly what I want and, so far, has been a joy to work with, though we have yet to meet. I have met the composer Mark, a friend of the executive producer Sam, and I have sent both of them the rough-cut, and Sam my notes. I have sent - or rather Steph has - the rough-cut to the producer, and I have sent her my notes. Steph may well be doing a finer cut of the film today. 

I intend to e-mail, Sam, and suggest a meeting where I can pick his brains. He is a fine photographer and film-maker in his own right, and I think he may be able to give me some good advice. 

I've pitched a new film - a feature - to the producer, M T. I don't want to direct it. I'm not ready to direct a feature, but I'd love to do another short. I've got a lot of ideas. The new film I pitched is called "Gourmandises", so it fits into the tradition of "Goat Songs" and "Muirgen" in having a title that no one understands or can pronounce. Sigh. 

On Monday evening Aislinn and I had a useful meeting with Disney about the film we're writing for them. They love this draft (they hated the first one) though, inevitably, they had a series of notes. Which is obviously fine, and they are mostly cosmetic, unlike the radical overhaul of last time. They feel heard which makes them happy, and we now know what sort of film they're expecting. I'm buoyed with confidence at this. They will make this film. I'm going to make a Hollywood film. 

After the astonishing mucking about last week where - if you recall, John - you spent three days and multitudinous emails attempting to change your bank details on their payment system, eventually phoning a surly, mittel-european man to confirm your name, they still haven't paid me. But I received an e-mail yesterday explaining that they would. Or at least they intend to. 

I emailed my London/Finnish producer before and after Christmas, to wish her a happy Christmas and a merry New Year, and to find out if anything is happening with THAT film. She has not replied. I've learned, over the years - and it has been years now - this script predates the pandemic and my mother's death - I had hoped she'd get to see the film - I've learned that they only tend to reply when they have some news. So they don't have any news. I last spoke to her in November: the script was being read by Nathalie Biancheri, Prano Bailey-Bond had passed. She had approached Film 4 and the BFI. It doesn't bode well. We'll see. The problem of only approaching female directors - which I heartily approved of initially - is that there aren't many of them about, and the ones that are about are incredibly busy, often with their own authored projects. They don't want to do my odd film about fairies. 

I still think it's a strong concept. But writing the Disney script is instilling a strong streak of pragmatism in me. I now think that "Into the Mystic" is an unlikely film. I would love to see it though. It's my favourite baby. 

I'm having a new story published in Exacting Clam, also a couple of drawings. I love the Clam and I've met some great people through it, but I think I should try and find a second outlet for my work - maybe somewhere in England, or here. But my stuff never seems to fit anywhere. My "horror" stories aren't like horror stories. I'm writing a long short story now, and it's not horror again. It's turning into a meditation on grief and time and memory. Just as the last two stories I wrote touched on those themes. Those, it would seem, are my themes. And I thought I was essentially a humorist. But then sadness and grief and aging are all horribly funny. At least I think so. 

That's where you are, John. What you're really wanting to do is publish a book. Maybe a book of comical short-stories. I don't know what you could do with the last three things you've written. They don't fit anywhere. People didn't even seem to like them. And why are they so fucking long? You used to be succinct.