I’m trying to write a book. It’s on my bucket list - to really do it - properly. I had lots of ideas and one grew and grew. It changed and branched. Characters grew into people who wandered through and worried at my dreams. Writing out some of the bits to get them from here to there was frustrating. The story dragged and languished. My friends were tired of me talking about it. I gave up in despair for a while, tired of wrestling with the behemoth.
Then a friend encouraged me to take a screenwriting class. Now the story is alive again. It is amazing, like waving a magic wand. Rewriting the story in a different form with strict limitations has swallowed up so many problems. Like poetry, the form makes me choose. The class is short so I just choose an option for now, perfection is some unspecified place down the road and I don’t need to worry about it today. I drown when there is just potential and nothing else. Limitations are lifesavers.