Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Writing/not writing

I'm still kind of treading water with the writing. I was on a roll with a new solo piece, but don't know what to do with it . . . it is mostly a bunch of memories about my dealings with a very memorable character I knew in college, so it's the kind of thing that might work well for the Fringe as if I can't use that as a laboratory what would be a better place?

For the time being I am letting it simmer for a while and I can go back to it with fresh eyes.

There was also a moment this summer when I was thinking of expanding the character of 'the world's oldest salesman' which is something that I created while at the Journal News for a competition . . . that was fun; so when I was feeling fallow this summer I did some writing on it . . . that may be another opportunity. We'll see. It was a cute idea and I loved the character, but a full piece of it? hmmm.

Speaking of the Fringe: tonight is the first meeting of the fall semester of the Woodstock Fringe Playwrights Unit. After dusting off Dead Authors to submit to the competition last week, I was sort of in the mood to hear that again, so I'm taking some pages in. Should be fun. It's hard to believe it's been eleven years since I've had a reading of it! The problem with writing is that you're always moving on to the next thing and the next thing after that and they whatever you are working on now demands the focus (as it should). So a wonderful piece (I think) like Dead Authors is shuffled off to the side. It's like an old friend. Nice when you see them again . . . only with plays they don't get gray and lose hair or gain weight . . . they stay as fresh as the day you stopped working on it.

It's amazing to think of what has gone down in the eleven years since I wrote the piece . . . my daughter was seven for one thing! Bette has her speech path practice. So many plays, and the whole solo thing . . . wow . . . I suppose that's one of the beautiful things about life: if you stay engaged and active, wonderful things can happen. If you stop . . . you stop.

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