| |
|
I had a nice stress-relief excuse that took up all the time I didn't use sweeping or reading comics and eating, when I realized a certain project was spiraling down to irretrievable doom. Everyone involved was e-mailed and phoning these weird questions and intensity was mounting, so, my part more or less done, I laid all my cards out on the table. What psychological damage this character was written with, where the backhandy satire was being deployed as subtlely as possible, the character I was writing as gay, the one I was writing as a practicing muslim, and I walked them through it. Which, after much pretense of everyone being straight and devout christians of some cut, was a nice exhalation of sorts, and got them all squabbling over who knew and who's now accepting or okeh with this or that but didn't want to say anything when the tide was against, et cet.
I am employed by very rich children too often. The sudden, probably physically painful, realization that I made them say gay things into a camera or made the horrid rightwingy bastard daddygod something the audience is going to laugh at, these are small pleasures probably better left unachieved until after release. But the thing's dying anyway and I needed the petty ego-boost. |
|
|
