Degrees of Slackness

Have not managed to get much writing done in the last few days … she says despairingly and with deep, heavy sighs. But as we all know this is rarely the case. Let's see.

Friday

Friday I wrote 17 pages on the children's play which is of course turning it into a children's epic and any poor child that was made to sit through it in its present form would see their childhood quietly slip away. However, am starting to actually get a grip on the story and while most of what I have written will get tossed to the gutter never to see the light of day, I do think I am getting very close to actually nailing this thing into place. First draft people. First draft.

Friday night I started a new short youth play which I got a couple of pages done on and am feeling quite happy about myself. It's a cute little piece, and while I promised to do a post on what is with all this youth stuff, I don't think I will. Let's just say that I am trying to diversify. Or make money. Or both.

I also made fabulous lists of all the things I have to do marketing wise for One Cloud. It made me feel all important and grown-up. Yet to cross anything off the list.

Saturday

Friday night best friend creature who has (we hope) temporarily moved interstate texted that she was flying down for the weekend and so Saturday morning had to clean up the house a bit so she didn't gasp in horror and run for the hills. But she was late and while I should have used the 45 minutes to write, I actually used it to read which was fab because I am trying to get the reading stats up. So slack. So very, very slack.

Late breakfast turned into shopping trip which then turned into me writing birthday invitations for best friend creature's mother and then it was six o'clock and then dinner had to happen and only managed to get out one youth monologue last night. Also slack.

Sunday

Slept in. Read papers, finished youth book, had bath, started new youth book, now it's half past three. Football final in a couple of hours (yes, another one) and then hopefully, some writing because after all, that's what I'm here to do. I'm going to try and finish the first draft of the grown-up play because you know, enough already. It's starting to circle for a landing. It's time to get out the mower and clear a strip for it.

I don't know what all this means. Slack, kind of slack, way too harsh on myself … you be the judge.

Onwards and upwards people … and go Melbourne Storm. I love you even if no one else does.