Ten Minute Play Workshop has invited me to workshop my play “Ladies of December.” It’s scheduled for June 2.
I know the play needs tweaking. I’m fond of the banter between Jane [Austen] and Emily [Dickinson], but the end probably needs punching up, and maybe the characters need to more fully investigate the reason they are where they are. Maybe I could turn them into sleuths! Hmm . . .
At least I find it easier to hear criticism when I’m ready for it rather than when I think the work is already pretty good as it is. That’s hard for me, because I’m a perfectionist at heart. I tend to think, by the time I release something I’ve written into the wild, that it’s as close to perfect as it could or will ever be. I must always remind myself that even the best writers are myopic in their visions of their works. There’s a reason one needs readers and proofreaders, &c.
People liken writing to giving birth, and it’s true. But try to remember that a baby, when born, is still something of a mess. Nurses take it and clean it and weigh it. They advise you how to care for the child. And then you take it home and feed it and change it and teach it to walk. There’s work in giving birth, even beyond labor. And that “child” is yours for life, so you want to teach it well and eventually send it out into the world as a solid, fully formed citizen that you can be proud of.
In other news, got this in the mail yesterday:
The Sundance readers signed a copy of the script for me and sent an audio of the table read.
And though I’ve been a bit depressed lately, good things are foretold by my garden. The first tulip of the season:
And this outside my window: