Madam, what have you done to your child!?!

The Script: the script has been abused. It has been cut and pushed and strangled and wrangled. Plot lines have been abandoned like newborn kittens. Characters have been contorted into alien mockeries of their former selves. New characters have been rubbed into the script's wounds like Pica Limon. Two more plot lines have been added, glomming onto the first draft with ferocity and vigor. We went from having a complete first draft to having a bucket of Frankenstein parts and a collective headache.

But this is good for the script. It is good for the film. We gravitate towards our goal by inches and degrees, moving perceptibly closer to possessing that first glorious component of our heavenly machine, a shooting script.

Now, when I leave this mild-mannered alias existence of a day job, I will fly home and become... mwahahaha! The Script Writer. Tonight, however, I shall become The Script Writer With A Martini...and hope this version of super hero will mind her manners and get to work, not succumbing to the Friday night pull of prancing around the house in borrowed boxers singing Go Team songs.

We can hope. That is all we can do.