3. Dunedin to Bollywood

I have certainly lost all inhibitions about my ability to write. Wrong! I still have those, but now I no longer care. If it's bad then so be it. It can only get better...Surely?

More to the point is that I simply could not have survived the last few weeks of this course had I not tossed my pride out the window. We are churning out stories (sorry, creative non-fiction), and showing our work to all who can bare to listen, at such a rate that it won’t be long before there simply won’t be any words left in my head to put on the page.

I have written a personal essay about the library, a short story about my dog that died, which made me cry. I can only marvel at how a tiny creature could make such a gaping whole in my life. I have written about killer kangaroos, a suggestion for a doco on the demise of vultures and had to tell my class a story about myself in which I ranted on about the debacle that was my first week in Dunedin. And then there is this pestilent blog which, to my dismay, is growing on me.

However, the most important words I penned this week were those to do with my own documentary.

I have a list of ideas which, thankfully, is getting longer even if it is depressingly slow going. What is more depressing however, was my realisation that I might as well toss them all out the window along with my pride, which is now lying in a muddy pond of Dunedin rain, because they are just not doable unless I acquire a sugar daddy who is willing to foot the extensive bill.

My first documentary idea would involve filming in all the worlds’ nations that have been unfortunate enough to have recently been at war. That would include most of the Middle East, half of Africa, PNG, Timor...the list goes on.

Another idea would involve not only going to Australia to film, but before I could even start the filming I would need to complete a PhD on the 1500 or so species of ant that have not, as yet, been discovered let alone named. They are out there I assure you!

And a third idea would involve either mastering the art of claymation within the month, or employing the services of “what’s his name” who won the Oscar for Harvey Crumpet. The fact that I don’t even know the guys name might be a hint as to how successful that idea will be.

Alas, I have hit a wall. I just can not seem to think of any ideas that my non-existent budget will stretch to. I have thus come to the conclusion that I was right all long. I don't belong here, I belong in Bollywood. There, and only there, do they have the budget and patience to produce my five hour Natural History epic.