Sunday, July 04, 2010

Sunday Stuff

It's an actual typewriter that actually works, Loyal Ones. My only question is why the man gets to wear regular clothing and the woman has to be all tarted up, showing lots of leg. Oh, right. That's when men ran the world and women ran around looking sexy for them.

We've come a long way baby. Or have we?

Anyway, on to my rather boring reflection on writing....



Loyal Readers, now that your BloomingtonGirl has reasonable evidence that her little guy is having the time of his life at sleep away camp in the scenic Adirondack Mountains (photos of him smiling, one and only one hastily scribbled note of joy), I almost don't know what to do with myself. I see now that the anxious worry about him occupied a great deal of space and time and now that it has subsided, it has left a great deal of space and time to now occupy with something else. But, with what?

The obvious answer is writing, and even as I write those five words, I think, "What's so obvious about that?" After all, such a statement makes it appear as if I take myself seriously as a writer. Do I? I guess it depends on when you ask me. If you ask me lately, I will answer a with definite sort of. Other times, the answer is absolutely. And sometimes, not at all.

Having kept company with many writers, I realize that ups and downs in confidence and feelings of strong purpose, etc., are quite common. In fact, they appear to be universal. But, suppose my dips are based on the bon a fide fact that I have nothing terribly important to say and no talent with which to say it? How will I know?

(I know. I will never know. I just have to keep on with it.)

So, I am keeping on with it today in the form of trying to rewrite Over the Moon for what I hope will be the last time before I put it aside for a new piece. I haven't done any substantial work on it since it was read (by an excellent cast!) in Cincinnati. There were some very solid suggestions at the talkback and I am restructuring the end of Act I based on one of them. This presents a problem for Act II as written and so I must begin it anew. It has been slow going today, but I am making some progress.

I am torn between thinking that this play, while a decent first attempt at a full length play, does not merit additional time and work and thinking that given all the time and work I've put into it, I should at the very least make it the best play I can. Just the act of working more on it is educational and furthers my craft. Or, so I would like to think.

Enough of that prattle. I'm going to get back at it. Wish me luck. Better yet, wish me brilliance and wit.


1 comment:

Paul said...

Tinkering with your writing is tricky. Mess with the tone or content of one sentence puts the brilliant stuff you wrote after it at risk. Then you get into those existential moments when you have to choose between good enough and perfect. A writer's task of excising lines we think are great has been called "killing your babies". Crude analogy but true. May the force be with you.