More in-depth blogging on the Scriptwriters Showcase later this weekend. I would write you a meaty post about the fine Benderspink panel or chatting with John Cox about the John Milius draft of “Sgt. Rock”, but, you see, I am moderating the panel on writing for videogames first thing in the morning, and I need to get some sleep, otherwise I’m likely to start badly hallucinating during the panel and no one wants that:
“And here on my left is Dave Taylor who is, as you can see quite plainly, a gigantic lizard. And beside him is Sean O’Keefe just back from another harrowing voyage in the North Sea – all hail Lord Osiris, may his name live forever! Yeow! The guns! Jesus God! The GUNS!!!”
No, we don’t want that. No, no.
I did learn one very important thing at the Scriptwriters Showcase today, and I wanted to give a heads-up, lest anyone attending tomorrow or Sunday make the same miserable mistake I did.
A wWd of warning, friends and colleagues:
However you may decide to travel to the Sheraton Universal for the remainder of this weekend’s showcasings, I must tell you – and I think it may be one of the most important factlets you are exposed to during these three days – …
I beg you.
No related posts.
I did it. I made it up the hill.
Once.
I coughed something alive up from the inner folds of my lung tissue…
Then I took the shuttle.
That is because you, bill cunningham, are very brave. And wise for not trying it again – unlike some of us.