Memo to self:

Do not invite the current man you are seeing to next year’s screenwriting expo on Sunday night. Two weeks before, I know it sounded like a great idea, but it so wasn’t. We’re talking like an epic style disaster in the making. Just don’t do it.

The screenwriting expo is an escape into the Hollywood/Los Angeles reality of maybe, just maybe I’ll write that one screenplay that the studio executives will love and I’ll make wads and wads of money.

Never mind that Hollywood studio execs are fearful of losing their jobs and being the one to greenlight the next ‘Ishtar’ or ‘Waterworld’. Never mind that Hollywood studio execs are trolling thru the Japanese cinema to remake the next runaway Japanese horror flick adaptation. Never mind that the Southeast Asian market is starting to become exceedingly more profitable than the US market, and those audiences want ‘blood, blood and more blood’, which means Hollywood studio execs want ‘blood, blood, and more blood.’

But wait a minute … there are screenwriters out there who’ve made it. There are screenwriting experts galore who for three days teach you the screenwriting secret mantra, ‘Good characters and story still sell in Hollywood.’

But on Sunday night when you’re exhausted from:

1) having supershuttle pick you up at god awful hour so you could make the 6:30 am flight to LAX, then being in seminars from 1 pmm to 8:30 pm on Friday not to mention being up till 1:30 am chatting with the cute guy who says he’s optioned two films and is a budding Hollywood producer (everyone at the expo was a budding Hollywood producer), and marveling at the amazing gene pool of men who are at the party because Hollywood is always full of pretty people.

2) Waking up on Saturday at 6 am to iron your clothes for the next two days, then going on a run around the LA Convention Center at 6:30 am because all that great mexican beer you drank the night before made you feel fat and you’re afraid of not fitting into your clothes, then attending seminars from 8 am to 8:30 pm and then partying at the Networking party and wondering how much you need to speak to on the guys who wrote Shrek, and then ending up at another bar and chowing down on Domino’s pizza because it’s the only pizza place open in downtown LA that will deliver and getting to bed at 2 am.

3) And then finally it’s Sunday and you’ve slept in till 7 am and attended seminars from 10 am to 1:30 pm and attended the closing ceremony exhausted but happy that you came and swearing to yourself that you’ll get your writing act together and finish that screenplay and write three new screenplays to pitch at next year’s expo.

It’s like so anti-climatic to see someone from your 'normal real world' show up to take you to dinner, and all you can talk about is all the guys you’ve met, and how cute Aaron Sorkin is. And your guy looks at you like he doesn’t really quite like you right now and you feel guilty as hell that you’re talking about other guys, and mad as hell at yourself for even inviting him.

And then you end up flying back home on Monday morning and crying from sheer exhaustion and misery at 7 pm as you check your 80 plus personal email messages because now you’re thinking it’s totally over between you and your current guy, never mind that you’ve been trying to break up with him since October 1 and he doesn’t deserve any of your attention anyway.

Having your fantasy/dream worlds and real worlds collide like that on a Sunday night at 7 pm in Los Angeles in close proximity to Hollywood, maker of fantasy/dream worlds, is just such a bummer, a huge, huge bummer.

So my friend Jon got me a gig for the month of November as a guest columnist on the SFist.com website, doing updates on my Nanowrimo progress.

Check the link out: SFist writes about Nanowrimo.

I am "Brenda" friend of SFist. Thanks for the gig, Jon.

Back from my weekend in LA at the screenwritng conference. I'll blog more about it later. Interesting to note. In LA, my anxiety completeley disappeared. Now it's Tuesday morning at work, and my anxiety is back in full force and I can't feel my teeth.

Yes, LA is truly an escape from reality. Too bad it's too difficult to live and stay there.

I tried to post yesterday, but blogger was so slow. Everyone and their mother was blogging about election yesterday it seems. And in the midst of it all, I've been doing the National Novel Writing Month marathon again.

Here's a brief summary of my new novel.

My Nanowrimo novel title: Changing Timelines

The time is 35 years into the future. The world is on the brink of war, and a naïve scientist has sold to the US government the ultimate doomsday bomb, as a first strike mutual deterrence weapon. Tensions are high as the rest of the world feverishly races to arm themselves. His wife Tatsinda must travel back in time with the help of her husband’s greatest adversary to prevent the start of his research project which started when they were first dating. What’s at stake is the future of the world and future of her marriage with her beloved husband? Can she prevent him from starting work on his doomsday weapon without if affecting their relationship and eventual marriage? Will her attraction to her husband’s former best friend and greatest enemy in the future affect their relationship in the past? Can you change events in the past to affect the future? Can you change the timelines, or are some timelines, some loves, some relationships unalterable?

I have chapter titles as well. Mostly I use them as a trigger to let me know what needs to happen in each chapter and where in the plot I'm supposed to be. I have a plot and I know how it's going to end, I just don't know what my characters do to get there. I guess I'll have to write and find out.

Chapter 1 – What you love, you must now destroy
Chapter 2 – Love thy enemy
Chapter 3 – Every love has a beginning, every destruction a seed
Chapter 4 – Hate is the opposite of love
Chapter 5 – To love is a choice
Chapter 6 – Choice is sometimes a loop
Chapter 7 – Rewriting history isn’t what you think
Chapter 8 – The past affects the future, the future affects the past
Chapter 9 – A heart breaks across time and space
Chapter 10 – Some things can’t be altered
Chapter 11 – Two loves can’t exist in the same time and space
Chapter 12 – Sometimes love is almost too permanent.

I'm writing in third person instead of first, and I'm not used to writing from that point of view and it's hard.

So why the name Tatsinda? A friend from highschool told me she wanted to name her daughter that name. I have no idea where she got the name, but it's been stuck in my head since my teens. That friend went on college at Stanford; her father, brother and sister went to school there as well. I have no idea where she is now.

So the Shrubmeister won and I'm saddened, but definitely not surprised. I've been predicting it all along, but just because I'm an very amateurish political analyst doesn't mean I like the results I come up with.

What amazes me is the level of surprise in the media. I mean, is anyone really that surprised by the results of the presidential election, the senate races and the House of Reps? Hey, but I guess incredulity sells newspapers and tv time doesn't it?