You are currently browsing the daily archive for May 13th, 2008.
Writing is a tough job. Creative writing even more so — or for me it is, because the demons howl so loudly.
This play I’m writing — I’m nearing the end and I’d be feeling good only all night long I tossed and turned, the demons weaving their long fingers into my hair and jerking me awake.
It’s not good enough. Where’s your conflict? What’s going on?
What does it matter, you’ll never see it performed.
The whole idea stinks. It’s wrong. It doesn’t work. Give up now.
Plays are supposed to be about real people, not ideas. Who are these people? Why do we care?
Maybe you should be content just being the support crew. You’ll never write as well as you want to. You’ll never live up to your early promise. You never get it down on paper the way it should be written. Give up. Give up.
To have to wake up in the morning and come back to the computer feels Herculean. In fact, I haven’t opened the document yet, scared to find out that all my demons are chanting the truth.
Still, I suppose I’m going to. What else is there to do? Give up?
It’s always an option. Sitting right there. Just an option.
