1) I entered the Bluecat Screenplay competition. When I saw it listed, I noticed I had missed the April 1st deadline. On a bolt of intuition, I contacted the Main Dude and asked if I could still enter and be considered for this year. He sent back a one-word email: "Yes."
2) I queried eleven producers on craigslist looking for scripts.
3) I allowed my son to stage his own drama with a hot wheels car. I'm not sure exactly what it entailed, but he wheeled the car around the bed where I was working (and recovering from being sick) left and returned once or twice, then set up his scenario, murmuring his narration all the while, and then warned me not to touch or disturb what he had done. I was roundly praised for my obedience when he returned and found his diorama of covers and car in its original condition. Hooray for unconscious parenting.
4) After reading all BlueCat's pithy, poignant log lines of past finalists, I decided to give my bulky, sagging logline a phat trim. Now it reads:
A rookie journalist investigates a psychotherapy cult guru with a taste for his young female acolytes, and risks his budding career, his new community, and maybe even life and limb, to finally give the errant leader a taste of his own medicine.
'nuff said.
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