There comes a time in every script when you think it's done.
Then you discover it isn't.
It's an odd thing, writing. You don't ever have to release it into the universe (although you should, if you plan on ever making a living.) I have found myself on that end of the spectrum more times than I can count: finish, then make it better. My comfort zone is an ever-expanding thing: half-hour single camera; animation; tween novels; world-building. I'm a big believer in JUST SAY YES.
For the last year an idea has been buzzing around my head, something that I am uniquely qualified to write. It was imagined as a novel, became a half-hour spec pilot, and in the last round of notes with my incredibly patient and supportive manager, has become the thing it should have been from the beginning: the one-hour spec pilot.
Years ago, my first agent took me aside and said you should write a one-hour. But I was working on Lizzie McGuire, and the road of kids' TV seemed never-ending. Sitcoms still existed. There were jobs to be had.
Here I am, years later, surrounded by reams of notes and a script ripped in two. I've been reading pilots for the past couple of days, jotting things down in my notebook and on notecards. The ideas keep coming but I haven't been able to wrangle this story into submission.
I'm reminded of my first days working in animation, when I realized I could do anything. I wasn't hindered by sets or actors or the laws of physics. I don't know why it's taken me this long, except that it has.
It's a little bit exciting and a whole lot terrifying.
So that's where I am. In case you were wondering.