A woman photographs her neighbours.

It would be an understatement to say I've recently been inspired by the work of Gail Albert Halaban. Echoes of her practice show up in the feature screenplay I've just written, and in this tiny short I'm trying to squeeze out in a similar vein. 

A woman photographs her neighbours from an apartment window. Not Rear Window - nothing so immediately, tangibly scandalous. But all the internal drama is still there. The seething, confused longing. The voyeurism. The very human curiosity. The erotic unknown.  

I'm plotting today. After an unsuccessful first draft. Par for the course. But it's like pulling teeth.

Actually, I think it's harder to write a short film than a feature lengthed one. A lot harder. Well, for me it is anyway. But I'm curious to find a way of managing the beast without allowing it to descend into something pat and overly formulaic. 

So, I keep coming back to the source material. Every time I'm tempted to get caught up in predictable thrills or melodrama, I come back to the photographs. Pull it back. Soften the edges. Get back inside the character's head. Their view. 

From "Paris Views" by Gail Albert Halaban.