At least, this is how I imagine it will be done.

Originally uploaded by Foxtongue.

Radios crackling, the building today is full of film crew. Some ballet movie, something sweet, charming, and meant to be New York. I know I’ll never watch it, ever want to watch it. I can forsee a future where it’s the in-flight movie, it’s an option on the pay-per-view in some cut-rate hotel. Right now, it’s merely an annoyance. Classes are all cancelled, people are shouting at me over the phone. Not my fault. Not anything to do with me at all, but that’s why they put me here, at this desk, so that strangers may have someone to shout at who will calm them down, repeat the same phrases over and over in a mellow, soothing voice, until, like small startled animals, they will begin to trust me and so agree to go peacefully away.

The highlight of my work day so far has been a giant sheet of bubble-wrap I stole from a PA and systematically destroyed, pop pop pop, with Michael Elliot.

Tomorrow and Friday I’ll be on set, the ghost of a dead bride laughing in a Hallowe’en parade. I’m looking forward to it. There are ninjas involved and a traditional Japanese wedding. My guess is that my scene will be both complicated and incredibly simple. Classic chase scene. Someone running, (a ninja in this case), being chased, and up ahead! a spooky parade! They dart in, lose themselves in the costumed crowd. The cameras follow the pursuer, fish-eye up to stilt-walkers and spin past grinning skull-faces. The pursuing woman, she follows, is lost, ah-hah! Sees the ninja! Grabs him, tears off the mask! But – just a costumed Hallowe’enie out for some fun. She stands, finally, undone, still in the middle of the busy street. Defeated. Mask in hand. Alone.

I’m beginning to understand why everyone loves him

Joss Whedon on the writer’s strike:

My son is almost five. He is just beginning to understand what I do as a concept. If I drove a construction crane he’d have understood it at birth. And he’d probably think I was King of all the Lands in my fine yellow crane. But writing – especially writing a movie or show, where people other than the writer are all saying things that they’re clearly (to an unschooled mind) making up right then – is something to get your head around.

And as work? Well, in the first place, it IS fun. When it’s going well, it’s the most fun I can imagine having. (Tim Minear might dispute that.) And when it’s not going well, it’s often not going well in the company of a bunch of funny, thoughtful people. So how is that work? You got no muscles to show for it (yes, the brain is a muscle, but if you show it to people it’s usually because part of your skull has been torn off and that doesn’t impress the ladies – unless the ladies are ZOMBIES! Where did this paragraph go?) Writing is enjoyable and ephemeral. And it’s hard work.