April 1st popped up with a mighty roar of trumpets while hundreds of writers raced to their computers to begin writing their scripts. We're all charged up and filled with ideas, eager to slam through 20 pages on the first day. And I... got nothing.
I can't believe how frickin busy I've been now that school has ended. Where are my quiet hours spent huddled over my laptop while brilliant words pour from my finger tips? Instead of writing, I'm pulling weeds, returning phone calls, dealing with my taxes, making appointments, cooking, cleaning, planning the garden, washing the car, bathing the dog, yelling at the kid and doing a hundred other things NOT writing related.
My muse is starting to get pissed off.
So tomorrow, when my daughter returns to school from Spring Break, I will spend the morning working on my play. That should placate her. I'm seriously starting to get worried. She keeps glaring at me with that evil look that can literally turn someone to stone. If I don't start producing pages for Script Frenzy, I may not survive the week.
I'm also getting ready for the Anarchist Book Fair next weekend (April 9 and 10th). It's going to be fantastic spending two days surrounded by people who love words as much as I, and selling a few books would be the icing on the proverbial cake. Just gotta make sure I have a bed! The Red Vic on Haight street is comfy and cheap, but they won't return my phone calls confirming my reservation.
What is it about Hippies and phone calls?
I can't believe how frickin busy I've been now that school has ended. Where are my quiet hours spent huddled over my laptop while brilliant words pour from my finger tips? Instead of writing, I'm pulling weeds, returning phone calls, dealing with my taxes, making appointments, cooking, cleaning, planning the garden, washing the car, bathing the dog, yelling at the kid and doing a hundred other things NOT writing related.
My muse is starting to get pissed off.
So tomorrow, when my daughter returns to school from Spring Break, I will spend the morning working on my play. That should placate her. I'm seriously starting to get worried. She keeps glaring at me with that evil look that can literally turn someone to stone. If I don't start producing pages for Script Frenzy, I may not survive the week.
I'm also getting ready for the Anarchist Book Fair next weekend (April 9 and 10th). It's going to be fantastic spending two days surrounded by people who love words as much as I, and selling a few books would be the icing on the proverbial cake. Just gotta make sure I have a bed! The Red Vic on Haight street is comfy and cheap, but they won't return my phone calls confirming my reservation.
What is it about Hippies and phone calls?
1 comment:
its not hippys and phones, its Hippys.
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