This story begins, as most well told stories must, in the middle. Not the exact middle, most likely, but certainly not at the beginning - boring you with exposition sans context. Or relevance.
Last night, at a few minutes after 6 pm, I successfully, and officially, lost my first screenwriting contest. It's not like I expected to win... exactly. But I will admit I was disappointed and very surprised at how hard it was to go back to writing this morning. I was competing against authors from all over the world, with years of experience. I'd only decided to write screenplays four months ago! What hubris on my part.
Of course, without some hubris we "author types" wouldn't write. I had a serious decision to make this morning and was surprised that this little contest, that I never had a chance to win, was able to focus me so directly. Am I going to be serious about this writing thing?
Of course. I have to. There are stories I have to tell. I've been spinning yarns since I was kid, being encouraged by family and teachers to keep writing. I have sought writing opportunities in every job I've ever had - in some cases creating my own (and in one very EXTREME case getting in a LOT of trouble for it).
I reached The Point of No Return a long time ago. I will keep writing. I will keep studying. I will probably enter another contest. Maybe at some point I'll go back to novels and short stories - but I don't think so. I love the movies, always have, and to paraphrase Hemingway, "There is no writing like the writing of movies and for those who have tried it, and liked it, there is nothing else."