Utah, Day Four

Imagine a room.

Imagine that in this room is a collection of writers.

Imagine that the logs in the fireplace pop while outside, snow falls.

Imagine that the only thing they want to talk about is the craft of writing and storytelling.

That was probably the baddest-ass part of the yesterday — a safe headspace where you can go and ask questions of those who have come before you, those writers who have been storytelling professionally for decades, those writers who have helped to shape and define those stories you love.

It’s powerful shit, people. This whole Sundance Lab thing has been a great way to slow things down, to hit the “pause” button and hunker down over your work like a bird at a nest and do nothing but live with that project. And to not be alone during this process, to have people who sit there with you and answer questions and call you on your bullshit and help you draw out the best version of your story —

Well, that’s just crazygonuts good.

Anyway, today’s the last full day here at the screenwriters lab, which is a shame, but there comes the time when one has to reenter the atmosphere. It’s been this weird time travel bubble here where it feels like I’ve been here an hour, and been here a year all at the same time. And while I’d love to sit comfy in this womb forever, I’m also super geeked to get born back to reality and start instituting changes not just here, but in all the work going forward — new ways and old tools for storytelling.

More tomorrow, methinks. I’ll be down in Park City at that point, and should have a little more time to get caught up. (Don’t think I’m willfully ignoring comments or mails or anything; this is a pretty intensive process where we are rarely in our own space, which is ultimately a very good thing. Or, alternately, perhaps I think you smell a little, and I’m afraid to tell you.)


  • I’m not jealous cause I don’t think Chuck is there. I think he’s in Vegas and he’s just writing down his trips on acid…

    …aww, who am I kidding. Even if that were true something really awesome would be happening at the same time. He’s probably chilling with Gil Grissom from CSI and Bruce Campbell and Chuck convinced the HIlton to reopen the Star Trek wing there so they can party with no less than six dozen hookers. :/

  • Well, I’m glad I’m not the only one green over here. It’s not easy, y’know? Bein’ green? Oh, F-it. Chizzy, you earned every minute of it. Couldn’t have happened to a harder workin’ guy. Sop it up in your brain-biscut like so much writerly stew.


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