Friday, October 28, 2005

Why I Love & Hate Joss Whedon

Like a toddler, I have walked my first steps as a writer, within the living-room that is scriptwriting. And, as toddlers do, I found a solid piece of furniture in this living-room to focus on. It made me decide to gather the willpower required, not only to support my own weight and stand up, but to walk - to put one foot in front of the other, as I've seen so many around me do, and push myself further, hoping to reach that solid goal. However distant it may seem, it's where I want to go.

That goal, of course, is Joss Whedon. Character developer, plot twister and dialogue knitter extraordinaire, but, most of all, tamer of that scary beast called human pain. And I see the goal quite clearly; right at the other end of the living-room, up on top of the mantlepiece, along with other expensive ornaments - the kind parents show off to their guests. And I know - in fact, i knew before I pushed my hands on the floor to prop myself up - that I wouldn't be able to reach it, not this time, not for a while. And sometimes I worry if I'll ever grow tall enough to climb up there, let alone walk up to it.

It's only my first steps, after all. People will be proud of me, although I'll most definitely fall down before I even reach the dining table, and they'll laugh at me, but cheer me on regardless. And neither they, nor I, have any way to know whether I'll be an Olympic champion runner one day, or a high-jump record breaker, or if I'll be hit by a car at some point and lose my legs.

Still, maybe, if I try for long enough, if I keep my focus fixed, and if I'm lucky, one day I'll reach up to that mantlepiece, pick up an ornament and bring it down. And when I do - if I do - I'll have mastered the art of human pain myself; I'll bring it all down upon him, the bastard, and - just like in his case - it'll hurt me more than it will hurt him.

And then, I'll have found Serenity.

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