Today was the first day that I wished I could have been back in Lubbock. Not even for the full day, but just a couple hours this evening to see our Llano Estacado Blues screened at the Flatlands Film Festival. I feel like an absentee father. Fortunately Amy could be there. After all, a birth with an absentee mother would really be unnatural. Also Jim Bush attended. Let's see. Following this birthing analogy, I guess he'd be the Godfather, or maybe better the obstetrician.
And Amy kept me posted all the way, from delivering the DVD this morning, through her 4-hour quest for just the right outfit to wear (Thanks, Scott!), to her taking a wrong turn on her way to the Arts Center but getting there on time anyway, to her assessment of the evening's program and her report of the comments she received after the screenings. Thank God for cell phones!
Now tomorrow morning she meets with Will Streider in the School of Music to try to even out some of the sound. Do these things ever get finished? I'm familiar with the idea of play scripts getting tweaked, revised, rewritten, and so on ad nauseam, but I was under the apparent misapprehension that a movie got wrapped, put in the can, and was done. Shows what I know.
But it sounds like, in spite of its technical rough spots (which I can overlook but which stick out for Amy like whole fists-full of sore thumbs)—in spite of all that, it sounds like it showed pretty well.
The playwright's whine—Well, I guess they didn't need me any more. And the playwright's cheer—They liked my dialogue!
And so to bed.
Treatment count: 8 down, 37 to go.
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