Well, five days of ScriptFrenzy have suddenly appeared and gone, or at least four days have. The fifth day, today, seems hardly to be believed it’s here. One day, I’m worrying, thinking, pondering, ignoring, stressing out about the first day of ScriptFrenzy, the first day of writing another piece of fiction — in this case, a radio play — and the next, four days have gone, and I’m ahead of schedule.
What would I write, I queried my therapist. I have no idea what to write. No idea what my play will be about! Oh, you’ll think of something, she replied breezily. Somebody else repeated what she said. Apparently, I was the only one fretting about what I was going to write. But they were the ones who were right.
Why fret when my brain seems to produce on cue.
May it always be so.
However, just because it produced — some days my conscious mind knowing what was going to happen but most days being like the first: I had one idea and suddenly my fingers tapping on my iPad’s Bluetooth keyboard have another, and they are taking my characters into a shrink’s office. Geeze. Anyhoo… just because the inner creative recesses of my mind produced doesn’t mean that the writing itself is any good. I’m in that phase writers get into where all the work sucks big time. It would be a good idea to stop, to say enough.
But because it’s ScriptFrenzy, because I have pep talks appearing in my inbox and other prod, prod, proddings, I keep writing my play Divorce Times Marriage. Not today though. I’m way ahead of schedule. Eighteen pages.
