What Am I Writing?

That's the question that really terrifies me. When I'm out at a party (like I was last night) and I'm talking to someone (usually a female type someone) and they ask me what I'm working on. And that makes me pull up. I'm a bit of a superstitious person, so that's part of it. Plus you never want to give away a good idea, let someone else know your secrets. But there's another part of it. Part of the process is the gestation period, letting things percolate and bubble. Telling someone about it is forcing the idea out too soon, before it's ready. That can kill it. So I keep it close, as best I can.

Not that there has been too much writing going on of late. Weekends are both great for writing and bad. It's nice to have the kind of time that weekend's provide, but the temptations are greater, too. And it's hard to have discipline (at least for me). So I go out on a Saturday and have a good time, and most of Sunday is shot.

Still, the (slightly) larger issue is the lack of deadlines, the out at sea feeling of working on something with no end in sight. That leaves me feeling like the work can just go on and on.

I'm still a bit frazzled, so I'm signing off, but tomorrow I want to blog about more good theatre I saw.