I've had a realisation - one that makes it easier to understand how blue I am today.
When I had my first child he had to be delivered by Caesarean section and was taken away from me straight after the delivery. I was wheeled into a room and he was placed in an incubator in the nursery. I couldn't walk, couldn't even wiggle my toes after the epidural, and I lay in this room, surrounded by flowers while visitors rushed in and out and told me how beautiful my baby was. How we was wearing a singlet on his head in the crib.
I was bereft. He wasn't in my arms where he should be. I couldn't see him.
And that's how I feel right now. I've delivered this play, loved it and birthed it and it's been taken from me and put into the hands of five judges.
I'm receiving lovely emails and text messages, my house is full of flowers, and still I feel bereft.
I wonder if this is how playwrights always feel? If once the play is finished and taken over by directors and actors it stops being theirs?
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Reflecting
Well, that last post was a little bit emotional ... sorry.
Today is Sunday. Two more sleeps (or awakes) until this will be over and I'll know the outcome of the judges' decision.
I hadn't slept for 48 hours and I lay in bed last night not feeling even the tiniest bit tired. I'd had a hot bath, drunk whiskey and then chamomile tea, taken a sleeping pill, and still my eyes were wide open and my heart raced.
It didn't help knowing that the judges were probably deliberating as I lay there. They were meeting after Sven's play to make their choice.
The plays are so different. I don't know how they choose when there's a strawberry, an apple and a banana on the table. It's a matter of taste and hunger. There are too many what ifs for me to handle.
I have one of the judges numbers in my mobile. I could call. I could ask. It's so tempting. But I won't. I hope. I have to wait. Wait and find out at a swanky lunch with no support system around me. We short-listed playwrights aren't allowed to bring a partner. It's the cruelest thing I've ever heard of.
If I lose, I will want Peter with me. I'll want to feel his arm around me, holding me up, keeping me strong, pinning the smile to my face.
If I win, I will want Peter with me. He is the first person I want to look at. His is the first hug I want to feel.
I can't bear it that he has to wait outside in the carpark and that he won't know what's happened until all these other people, these strangers, know.
But I've written and told the organisers this and they're not budging on the 'no partners' rule. So Peter will be in the carpark and I'll be inside, ready to make an ungraceful dash for the car when I hear the news.
It's no wonder sleep is so far away.
Today is Sunday. Two more sleeps (or awakes) until this will be over and I'll know the outcome of the judges' decision.
I hadn't slept for 48 hours and I lay in bed last night not feeling even the tiniest bit tired. I'd had a hot bath, drunk whiskey and then chamomile tea, taken a sleeping pill, and still my eyes were wide open and my heart raced.
It didn't help knowing that the judges were probably deliberating as I lay there. They were meeting after Sven's play to make their choice.
The plays are so different. I don't know how they choose when there's a strawberry, an apple and a banana on the table. It's a matter of taste and hunger. There are too many what ifs for me to handle.
I have one of the judges numbers in my mobile. I could call. I could ask. It's so tempting. But I won't. I hope. I have to wait. Wait and find out at a swanky lunch with no support system around me. We short-listed playwrights aren't allowed to bring a partner. It's the cruelest thing I've ever heard of.
If I lose, I will want Peter with me. I'll want to feel his arm around me, holding me up, keeping me strong, pinning the smile to my face.
If I win, I will want Peter with me. He is the first person I want to look at. His is the first hug I want to feel.
I can't bear it that he has to wait outside in the carpark and that he won't know what's happened until all these other people, these strangers, know.
But I've written and told the organisers this and they're not budging on the 'no partners' rule. So Peter will be in the carpark and I'll be inside, ready to make an ungraceful dash for the car when I hear the news.
It's no wonder sleep is so far away.
Friday, August 1, 2008
The aftermath
Yesterday was D-day.
Yesterday the actors poured their hearts and souls and every drop of blood into the two readings of Tinder.
It was amazing. The matinee was a sell-out show and the crowd literally roared at the end. I've never heard anything like it. My hair stood on end. I started to cry. It was the most emphatic accolation.
By contrast, the evening felt a little flat. And, of course, it was the evening performance the judges attended. And now I have to wait.
I didn't sleep at all last night. I feel as if I was under the side of the house when it fell down (you had to be at the reading to know what I'm talking about). I've never felt so exhausted and drained and yet so alive. My brain is buzzing. Adrenalin is coursing through me.
I lay awake, not sleeping, and all I could hear was the actors. I went through the whole play, time after time. And discovered that I know all the lines by heart. I don't know why this was so surprising.
And I thought of different ways I could do it. Lines I could change. Plot lines to clarify. It's overwhelming. I want to creep into the lantana and cry. I want to party and dance and celebrate. I'm torn a hundred ways.
I can't bear for it to be over. I don't know what I'll do if this is it and it doesn't get a production.
I am overwhelmed.
Yesterday the actors poured their hearts and souls and every drop of blood into the two readings of Tinder.
It was amazing. The matinee was a sell-out show and the crowd literally roared at the end. I've never heard anything like it. My hair stood on end. I started to cry. It was the most emphatic accolation.
By contrast, the evening felt a little flat. And, of course, it was the evening performance the judges attended. And now I have to wait.
I didn't sleep at all last night. I feel as if I was under the side of the house when it fell down (you had to be at the reading to know what I'm talking about). I've never felt so exhausted and drained and yet so alive. My brain is buzzing. Adrenalin is coursing through me.
I lay awake, not sleeping, and all I could hear was the actors. I went through the whole play, time after time. And discovered that I know all the lines by heart. I don't know why this was so surprising.
And I thought of different ways I could do it. Lines I could change. Plot lines to clarify. It's overwhelming. I want to creep into the lantana and cry. I want to party and dance and celebrate. I'm torn a hundred ways.
I can't bear for it to be over. I don't know what I'll do if this is it and it doesn't get a production.
I am overwhelmed.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
New Ideas
Well, it must have been too many days without working on Tinder.
New ideas are sprouting in a mushroom like fashion. Particularly while I'm sleeping (they must like the dark).
It's far too early to name them in public, they'll sink back into the rich mud and it will be hell to coax them up again, so I'm just quietly brewing and fomenting.
Back to QTC for workshops next week and then it will be rehearsals and then the reading.
And after the reading comes the judging.
And after the judging comes either euphoria or despair. No, scrap that. Euphoria or determination to find another home for this play. Which I will.
Strangely optimistic today!
New ideas are sprouting in a mushroom like fashion. Particularly while I'm sleeping (they must like the dark).
It's far too early to name them in public, they'll sink back into the rich mud and it will be hell to coax them up again, so I'm just quietly brewing and fomenting.
Back to QTC for workshops next week and then it will be rehearsals and then the reading.
And after the reading comes the judging.
And after the judging comes either euphoria or despair. No, scrap that. Euphoria or determination to find another home for this play. Which I will.
Strangely optimistic today!
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Long Silence
I haven't written a post here for a long time.
There've been a few reasons; the illness and then death of a much-loved family member; and also a feeling that I'm saying the same things over and over again.
I have been writing, but it's not that heady surge of writing, where you discover new things and feel euphoric as you get to know your characters. This is the painstaking, steady work of rewriting.
I have submitted my 'final' draft to QTC. I've put final in inverted commas because there will be more changes made. We have two weeks of rehearsals and I'm sure I will be tweaking and changing words as we go.
I knew I was ready to send it when I read through the play three times, once for each character. (Thank heavens I don't have more than three characters in my play!) I read the character I was looking at out loud and read the other characters in my head. This helped find repetition and words that didn't fit in people's mouths. It took me all day to do the three reads and, at the end of it, there were probably only ten lines I changed. This is where it starts getting silly and I worry about the placement of a comma.
There are still big changes I could be making. (I've written an alternate ending and sent that in as well - just because I have such troubles with the natural ending for this play. Why can't I write something happy and cheerful?)
I could start again and change everything. I think there are at least three different plays within the situation I've created. But I've reached the end for this version. The play is done. I think!
If you're reading this, I hope you can make it to the public readings on 1 August. Here's a link: https://www.qtix.com.au/show/QTC_tinder_08.aspx
There've been a few reasons; the illness and then death of a much-loved family member; and also a feeling that I'm saying the same things over and over again.
I have been writing, but it's not that heady surge of writing, where you discover new things and feel euphoric as you get to know your characters. This is the painstaking, steady work of rewriting.
I have submitted my 'final' draft to QTC. I've put final in inverted commas because there will be more changes made. We have two weeks of rehearsals and I'm sure I will be tweaking and changing words as we go.
I knew I was ready to send it when I read through the play three times, once for each character. (Thank heavens I don't have more than three characters in my play!) I read the character I was looking at out loud and read the other characters in my head. This helped find repetition and words that didn't fit in people's mouths. It took me all day to do the three reads and, at the end of it, there were probably only ten lines I changed. This is where it starts getting silly and I worry about the placement of a comma.
There are still big changes I could be making. (I've written an alternate ending and sent that in as well - just because I have such troubles with the natural ending for this play. Why can't I write something happy and cheerful?)
I could start again and change everything. I think there are at least three different plays within the situation I've created. But I've reached the end for this version. The play is done. I think!
If you're reading this, I hope you can make it to the public readings on 1 August. Here's a link: https://www.qtix.com.au/show/QTC_tinder_08.aspx
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Euphoria
What a wonderful day yesterday was. I'm still on a high after the reading... There's nothing like having brilliant actors lift your words from a page and make them dance and shine.
Chris Betts was my new John and he got so involved in the reading that he cried at one stage. I had shivers. And Barbara Lowing is perfect as Martha. She's just delicious in the part. Tim Dashwood is my Ned and he makes Ned so innocent and pure - I just want to protect him!
I am feeling so happy and giddy with the thrill of it.
I've decided that writing is a bit like suffering from a manic-depressive disorder. I get so high I feel invincible and then plunge to the depths where I doubt that the good day ever happened. I'm not like this in normal life.
I think it must be part and parcel of creating something and then fearing that your baby is actually hideous and everyone's just being polite telling you she's cute.
But today is a wonderful day. I'm convinced that my baby is beautiful and that she's going to grow into something splendid.
A big thank you to everyone at QTC for the constructive feedback and the pointers for the next draft. Can't wait to get into it. (This will actually be happening tomorrow as the next workshop is Saturday and I need to do a one-day rewrite.)
Yeehah!
Chris Betts was my new John and he got so involved in the reading that he cried at one stage. I had shivers. And Barbara Lowing is perfect as Martha. She's just delicious in the part. Tim Dashwood is my Ned and he makes Ned so innocent and pure - I just want to protect him!
I am feeling so happy and giddy with the thrill of it.
I've decided that writing is a bit like suffering from a manic-depressive disorder. I get so high I feel invincible and then plunge to the depths where I doubt that the good day ever happened. I'm not like this in normal life.
I think it must be part and parcel of creating something and then fearing that your baby is actually hideous and everyone's just being polite telling you she's cute.
But today is a wonderful day. I'm convinced that my baby is beautiful and that she's going to grow into something splendid.
A big thank you to everyone at QTC for the constructive feedback and the pointers for the next draft. Can't wait to get into it. (This will actually be happening tomorrow as the next workshop is Saturday and I need to do a one-day rewrite.)
Yeehah!
Monday, June 2, 2008
Back from Holidays
Well - so much for the grand plan!
I took my laptop and a print out of my play and didn't write a word of it. So, tomorrow I go into the next workshop/reading with the play as is and without a get out of jail free card (alternate draft).
I planned writing and suffered withdrawals from not writing, but the close confines of a campervan with two children were not conducive to creativity! Still, it was a wonderful holiday and I probably needed the break.
I still feel anxious and have mild heart palpitations when I think of tomorrow's reading, but that's too bad. It's just a matter now of waiting to see what happens and then fixing whatever's wrong.
I can do that.
I took my laptop and a print out of my play and didn't write a word of it. So, tomorrow I go into the next workshop/reading with the play as is and without a get out of jail free card (alternate draft).
I planned writing and suffered withdrawals from not writing, but the close confines of a campervan with two children were not conducive to creativity! Still, it was a wonderful holiday and I probably needed the break.
I still feel anxious and have mild heart palpitations when I think of tomorrow's reading, but that's too bad. It's just a matter now of waiting to see what happens and then fixing whatever's wrong.
I can do that.
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