I’ve been working on a limited series project — a passion project — for a while now. It’s been my filler between other projects that I’m co-writing, my indulgent “write from the hip” instead of “write from an outline” story.
When I started it, limited series weren’t a thing; I thought of it as the impossible mini-series. It has defined scope that isn’t the traditional 22 episodes or more, it’s fantasy, it’s young adult. Of the three, I figured only the YA aspect had any marketing appeal, but… passion. I wanted to play in this world, create this mythology for the passion. For the sheer love of everything that’s magical and amazing and addictive about writing. To take my YA daughter and niece on this journey because I figured they were the only audience I would reach, but what the hell.
I’ve apparently written into a trend, because the rebranded mini-series are making a comeback.
I have to get serious now about loglines and bibles and pitching and hope.
I also have to get serious about that last page, where I type FADE OUT. Where I admit to myself that this story train approaches the final station and I have to bid farewell to my virtual passengers, and hope they have great lives after the travails I’ve put them through.
I love this world, and I love their company. I love the stories they’re telling to me, and I’ve enjoyed every single letter I’ve written for them. I don’t want to write FADE OUT. I don’t want to say good-bye. I must, I know, but I am so reluctant to let them go. I’ll get there, eventually. Driven by the hope that this mythos will see a wider audience than three.