January 8, 1998

The Last Semester Begins

Diane trudges off to school with her lunchpail for the last time.

Today I had class. That pretty much sums up the day: from 1pm until 9pm, I was in a class somewhere. Next week, that extends from 1 until 10. Whee.

Both Thursday classes are "Write a screenplay" classes. The first one, from 1 til 6, is thesis class with Len. The second one is Rewriting the Screenplay, so I'm going to rewrite the screenplay I wrote last year. The times for this one got shifted back an hour because we're going to start meeting at the teacher's house in Hancock Park (whoo hoo! a nice section of LA--I guess the screenwriting thing has worked for her) and those of us who have class from 1 til 6 need to be able to get there.

Thesis class went all right. Well, no, it didn't--Len asked how everyone's project was going...except me. (Sigh. And he had told me we were going to start off with me.) He finally asked at the end of class, as an afterthought. It's okay though because I was kind of depressed and not at all talkative.

Which proved to be a problem in the second class. We went around the room and everyone introduced themselves and the project they were going to work on. As David said later, it's all how you pitch it. The comedy writers introduced everything funny, so they got a big reaction. I introduced mine straight and got no reaction. Pitching, pitching, pitching. Dammit.

The two downsides are that the rewriting class is going to be huge--10 to 12 people, and we all have to read one another's screenplays--and that Bernice is in the class. She wasn't originally; she joined last night. Dammit.