Wednesday, March 31, 2010

I am

* bored.

* tired.

* bored.

* really bored from the hours of 2.00 - 3.00pm

* have a capacity to hate that applies itself randomly and without any sort of moral compass.

* am woman. Hear me roar. Actually, nah, scrap that. I hate it when women roar.

Monday, March 22, 2010

Things Playwrights would never say ...

* Just say the line any way that feels right to you; I'm not precious about my words.
* My agent is wonderful.
* No need to pay me a royalty or a licensing fee -- it's such an honor just to work with this theater.
* I don't think 3% for 3 years is nearly enough back-end participation for this theater, given everything they've done to promote my play. I think they should get at least 20% -- forever!
* You're absolutely right! That character would never say that.
* You understand the character far better than I do at this point.
* I don't know what I did before there were dramaturges.
* That's a fantastic idea for a play. I'm going to stop all my other projects right now and write it. And I want you to have 20% of anything I earn from it, for coming up with such a fabulous concept.
* Why would I need to be at any rehearsals? I trust you guys know what you're doing.
* No thanks, I don't drink...

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

Supercell me




So we had ourselves a bit of a storm on the weekend. I didn't think it was much of one when I was standing in the art gallery and hearing it pelt down on the roof. But it was. A supercell storm, whatever that means, and apparently it means that it's bad. It's very, very bad - which I found out after catching the train home and finding the entrance to the train station a metre deep in water. If I come down with some sort of fungal disease I'm suing someone. Anyway, that's all I wanted to say. Big storm. Here to tell the tale. May have to deal with some sort of tropical disease in the near future. Slightly terrified.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

10 Rules for Writing

1. Never snack while writing; consume only complete meals – a starch, two vegetables and one serving lean protein (remember that one serving is about the size of a pack of playing cards.)

2. Marry somebody who will cook this.

3. When revising, consider whether you have written anything that will hurt or offend a member of your immediate family. If the answer is no, go back and add something.

4. It's doubtful that any fiction worth reading has been produced on a computer running Windows Vista.

5. Keep a copy of Islands in the Stream by Ernest Hemingway on the left hand side of your desk. Keep Fitzgerald's The Crack Up on the right. When you get stuck, pick them up and pretend that they are having a fight, like you used to do with your GI Joes. Just sort of bash them together for a while.

6. Never use dogs to symbolize anything. That is ridiculous. Always ensure that any dogs are just dogs; i.e., characters in the story who happen to be dogs.

7. Actually, never write about dogs.

8. And it probably is a good idea to avoid symbolism.

9. If an irate reader should break into your home, tie you to a chair and terrorize you with selections from the cutlery drawer, think back to your most recent novel. Was its point of view inconsistent? Did you at any time make use of the second person, or urban slang, even ironically? Did you attempt to underscore the significance of an action by describing it as having been performed “to the max”? If the answer to any of these questions is yes, accept what you have coming.

10. Remember: Writing is freedom.