Two years ago I got a call at work from a now-deceased friend asking if I wanted to write a commissioned play about the last days of Marilyn Monroe
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This can be true of almost any project. I spent last Summer trying a big case. I got a nice result. Now, it seems a million miles away, even though I am actively involved in efforts by my opponent to challenge the result. Everything seems remote, once the key parts are done. When something works, it seems easy--and over.
I hope your play gets performed so that you can "hear" it.
Thank you ... I've heard all of my plays performed before, some more than once. This is the so-called "big one" and two years in I've never heard it read.
I know that "if it's easy it ain't worth doing." And you're right, when something is done, there's a satisfaction in accomplishment that can dull the memory of the struggle it took to get there, until you find yourself at some cocktail party saying, "Oh yeah, that project was a fun one, I had a blast."
But in the midst of the uncertainty, everything seems in a fog ...
Thank you Miss Dumont. The jury's still out. I'll report as soon as something, or nothing, happens. Seeing as my journal seems to travel in very slow motion, I'm sure you'll hear something within six to eight weeks of the event ...
See, I find the pending stuff exciting and interesting. Stories without certain ends fascinate me. We all get to guess what great things will happen next! I hope that your baw-bag doesn't break open, and continues to hold all of your twannocks (even though that sounds a bit dirty, to be honest). Do let us know what happens. I'm sending many good thoughts your way.
"Never give up, no, never give up. If you're looking for something easy, might as well give it up." This line from Cat Power came up (on random on my MP3 player) while I was starting this response so there's some synchronicity for you.
There's something exciting about an unknown result, a kind of art to the building up of suspense, the way you might feel at the moment knowing FC has your last draft but hasn't reacted yet ... the sky's the limit.
But I'm a big impatient grouch, and I think two years might be my limit to my little sky. I guess I have to accept that reality moves at a fraction of the speed of my imagination.
the sound in the distance is ALWAYS a sign (it's meant to so) of hope. it might be an echo that resonates as being so close and yet it may come as a faint echo of seemingly distant imagination, but it is nevertheless a sound of recognition, affirmation and hope. you have written it and they will come. my anticipation of excitement is baited with anticipatory hope. i always have hope as there is no other logical choice. :) your recognized as one with talent. may you not second guess yourself. hard not to do, i know, but a rational fact of one's integrity. peace.
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I hope your play gets performed so that you can "hear" it.
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I know that "if it's easy it ain't worth doing." And you're right, when something is done, there's a satisfaction in accomplishment that can dull the memory of the struggle it took to get there, until you find yourself at some cocktail party saying, "Oh yeah, that project was a fun one, I had a blast."
But in the midst of the uncertainty, everything seems in a fog ...
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Worst case scenario, the play goes unproduced. Worse things have happened. We go on.
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There's something exciting about an unknown result, a kind of art to the building up of suspense, the way you might feel at the moment knowing FC has your last draft but hasn't reacted yet ... the sky's the limit.
But I'm a big impatient grouch, and I think two years might be my limit to my little sky. I guess I have to accept that reality moves at a fraction of the speed of my imagination.
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