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No, i’m not talking about writing poo. Although sometimes self-criticism evokes a scent reminiscent of that distasteful waste product and sharing the name of shit. Alright, I guess maybe, I am talking about writing poo.

I have a screenplay (some of which I posted to this very blog) that earned the title. I became convinced after letting it sit, ignored but for the rank smell of writer’s block that wafted from it’s word document. After several months, my disgust finally raised the question of the screenplay’s disposal.

Having no previous experience with trashing one of my own creations I tossed and turned over the issue. I wondered what, if anything could be done to salvage the material.

It came to me as I thought of who I wanted playing the lead. And it clicked. I wanted an Amy Schumer, but  I was unaccountably writing a dull Katherine Heigl. God help me, I was writing a comedy, but playing it straight.

As I said those very words in my head (“God help me.”) I swear, I had a wonderful, brilliant, horrible idea. I needed more curve to my screenplay. I needed some over-the-top, uphill battle of believability to frame the narrative I chose to write. In fact, to make the story completely unrealistic, ridiculous, and obscenely overdone was actually the only thing that could save my story from utter failure.

It’s a miracle. I turned a turd into a diamond.

Possibly. It takes a long time to make a diamond, you know.

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