I might be able to help you with that, Marcel.
You're not the Marcel who walks around in parks wearing white paint on
your face and pretending to be trapped in invisible boxes and generally
annoy people who walk by, are you? Because, if you are, then that
might account for your depression. Or maybe it's because you just
found the website, http://www."NobodyLikesAMime.com.
(It's not really a link; I just made it blue so it would look like one
just to annoy a few of you. Annoyance is terribly underrated and
needs to be introduced more into our society, the Internet, especially.)
I do understand that "letdown" a writer
can feel after finishing a big project. The same kind of letdown
has been noted by artists and creative people from all walks of life (even
those who pretend to walk against the wind on a windless day in parks,
annoying people trying to walk by without being annoyed by white-painted
flexible people pretending to walk). It seems to be a rather
natural feeling to go through one of these "downers" after one
has been creatively focused on something for a pronounced period of
time. Why, you ask? I really don't know. But I'll take
the best guess I have:
Screenwriter's "Letdown" Theory:
When you take on a big project and begin
to write a screenplay, an amazing transformation takes place both within
and without. For our purposes, let's focus our attention on the
"within." ("Without" being normally not a pretty
sight: your skin going pale from being inside too often from writing
so much; your eyes taking on a maniacal expression from getting so many
wonderful ideas for your script, looking like they're always popping out
wildly. Ergo, you've noticed your friends, neighbors, mailman, and
even dogs and cats keeping more than a normal distance from you.)
Within you, however, a miraculous and awesome transformation is taking
place. As soon as you committed to writing your first or next
screenplay, you sent a message to your body and, deep in the recesses of
your cells, tiny, microscopic screenwriters woke up
and diligently went to work and kept on working day and night (even when
you slept, you callous, unfeeling taskmaster, you!), coming up with those
ideas and plot points and dialogue and twists (storyline twists come from
the spinal column cellular screenwriters; dialogue emanates from the
screenwriters in the cells of the mouth and throat; premises come from the
screenwriters in your left foot, etc.). When you've typed "FADE
OUT:" and done your rewrites and polishes, and there's nothing
left to do but register and send your script to your agent or your mom,
those teensy weensy screenwriters know it and, whether you like it or not,
they have feelings, Mr. or Mrs. Run Them Ragged Until They Drop!
Believe, you, me (or "believe me, you," depending on what side
of the equator you are on), because you haven't been paying attention to
these millions of little screenwriters while you took all the credit for
what you thought you were creating, you forgot about the price you will
have to pay -- one way or another. They, the millions of little
screenwriters in your cells, are aware of it. And what you
should be aware of is that THEY NEVER FORGET.
Oh, sure, they'll produce when there's a deadline. But when that
deadline has been reached, when the last polish has been polished... they
will be heard. And heard loud and clear. That
"depression" you're feeling, that uncomfortable "letdown" is not what you think it is. What you're actually
experiencing is the convening of the Little Screenwriters Guild (LSG), a
strong union that will not be denied. If you listen and sense very
carefully, you can hear the speakers advocating for better pay and higher
ancillary residuals. They want new and improved contracts. And
they're going to stay at the bargaining table until they get them.
This brings us to the solution part of
this monograph. What is the best way to handle this agitation
and unrest that is coming from your little screenwriters, which masks
itself as depression? Well, you could take this experimental drug
that supposedly consists of teensy weensy anti-union personnel
carrying even tinier Billy clubs that violently break up cellular union
gatherings. But I wouldn't advise that method because I heard it can
give you stomach aches and make you have this unexplainable urge to take a
Tae Bo class and punch and kick yourself until you have to be forcibly
removed. So, what's another option to solve this dilemma? I
have found that an excellent way to combat the "Fade Out Blues"
is to have another project already in the works so that you can put some
of that restless, "I don't know what to do with myself now"
energy somewhere. It doesn't have to be another screenwriting
project; it could be a gardening one, for that matter (or a screenplay about
gardening. Or, you could bury all your screenplays in your
garden.) Just as long as it draws your attention and you
desire to accomplish it. But before you move to your next project, I
recommend that you first reward yourself for all that you've done.
Maybe take some time off. How about a vacation? You've earned
Just don't forget to make reservations
for all your little friends.
They'll be watching.
I don't say any of this to make you
paranoid. But if you want them to come up with another good
script while you live like a king or queen off their blood, sweat and
tears, if I were you, I'd get each of them a separate room.
Just a suggestion.
I have to go now. They just told
me they want a sauna. And I don't want to disappoint them... Again.