Some Garden of Wax Fruit and Painted Trees*

One of my favorite plays.

For the last month, I have been researching, taking notes, writing character sketches, and making plot outlines for a play.  I thought I would start writing this week.

And I did.  Two pages.  Life is chaos and the chaos has been an absolute shitnado this week.

But the big problem is... I don't like the idea very much.  It will work.  It has all the right pieces.  It holds together.  It's dramatic.

It just doesn't grab hold of me.

I've written pieces in the past that didn't have much emotional tug on my soul.  I think of them as "practice."  "Keeping the tools sharp."

I don't know if this is growth, or... resistance.

No.  I want to write something that has my heart and soul in it, not just something I find "interesting."  Something I can make work.  Maybe another day, I will comeback and all this will be exciting and give me what I need, but for now, it's time to set this play aside and search for the next.

I've got a 25 minute one-act that I'm going to have produced for FronteraFest in January and February.  I have some notes to make that a full-length piece.

Or maybe something else entirely will present itself.


* Arthur Miller, After the Fall