Good morning. It’s 5am here in Chicago and I’m awake for no good reason. My alarm isn’t set to go off for another hour and a half. I have big plans for the day: Rehearsal with A Crew of Patches at 9 o’clock, and then the first night of a music workshop for my adaptation of Soon I Will Be Invincible this evening. In the middle is a swath of time with nothing in particular that calls to me. I will probably do some work on a friend’s website I’ve help maintain. And I will try to think of something new to write.
Yesterday I typed out “End of Play” on the last page of a draft of a project that I’ve been working at, on and off, for way too damn long. Without going into detail, this is the “fan fiction” project I mentioned before, an original piece based on a handful of pre-existing characters. It’s the closest I’ve gotten to writing a full-length original play. I’ve sent the draft to the handful of artists attached to the project to get their feedback, and then I hope to have a reading of the script so I can hear the whole thing out loud and get some feedback before I dive into a new draft. Then I will be ready to officially submit it to my fellow ensemble members at my theatre company, to be considered for a slot in a future season.
Again, I’m not being vague to be mysterious or anything. I’m just superstitious about hyping a project that I don’t know for certain is actually going to happen.
In the meantime, I suddenly find myself in a position of needing a new writing project. I have a number of folders on my hard drive, each with a “Notes” file containing bits and pieces of ideas. There are also a handful of emails I sent to myself with more ideas. I should probably give everything a quick read, and then get back to work.