RIP

Oh, and Paul Newman. Bloody hell.

Problems … serious, serious problems

I've just realised something quite interesting about myself – the more productive I am, the less productive I feel. The more I do, the less I think I do. I don't know what this means … I mean, apart from needing some serious time in the self-help section of my local bookstore. Take this weekend for instance. I wrote, I cleaned up the house, I watched the grand final, I had sex, I applied for a Visa Debit card, I read and reviewed a play, I read about a hundred pages of a youth novel (don't ask – whole different post) and read two papers. This is not bad for a weekend as, technically, they are supposed to be restful periods. And, I still have the whole of Sunday night left. Seriously, what is wrong with me?

Strange

As expected yesterday was totally all about talking about myself and trying to plead without seeming to plead for 4 weeks by myself in the middle of nowhere. But I got it in smack bang on time and now we just forget about it and get on with the next thing. Today I have to type up the new short play and more pleading that it's almost as good as I thought it was when I was writing it … well, would you look at that? Flocks of flying sheep. I wonder what that means?

Dear shiny thing in the corner

And just while I'm here … a note to my phone. What is with you? I paid good money for you. You were all shiny and sleek and provided a long list of attractive features. You said you could do things that no mere phone should be able to do. Why can't you let me answer the phone? Why can't you do the one fundamental thing that phones are supposed to do? Huh? Yeah … go cry in the corner. Make me a cup of coffee while you're over there.

Stuff, soldiers, yelling and screaming

I still have my cold. I've downed a gazillion cold and flu tablets by a significant name brand and can I just say this … It has not been as easy as the ads would have you believe to soldier on. Not easy at all. But soldier on I have people. Soldier on I have. Yesterday, I finished Act One of the grown up play which at the moment is called New Light Shine even though when I told the boyfriend creature he gave me one of those "you are hurting my brain with those crazy words. Please, please stop". He'll get over it … or have an aneurism. Either way, the title is staying for the time being.

Today I rewrote a short play which is now called Sugar … oh, stop with your damn whinging. They're my plays, I call them whatever I damn want. I'm pretty happy with it but that's because it's tucked up tight in my notebook and I haven't reread it or typed it up yet.

Have also been working on my application for Hedgebrook residency who make out like they hate me … mainly because they keep rejecting me but deep down I know they just don't know how to adequately show their love. It has to be postmarked by tomorrow so that's probably what I will be working on until I hand over the GDP of a not so small African country to send it to the ends of the earth, or some rural part of Washington.

I've also managed to get Good World out and about to various theatres and had one tiny bite so far which is quite impressive in my book.

Onwards and upwards people … I swear to god, I hear one more word out of you and I'm spending the night reading random words from my very big dictionary. And then I'm going to whack you with it.

A riddle

Answer me this.

I draw up a plan for things I want to accomplish in a day. I write them out, I get a little scared but manage to bully myself into thinking of course you can do this. Normal, every day people do much more than this every day. Get up off your arse Murdoch and get busy.

And then work I do. No problems here with the working but the day just seems to go south so quickly that all the things that were meant to be done are still just sitting there. Waiting. And while we are on the subject, why do all the things that need to be done have beady eyes and take long slow asthmatic breaths? Okay, maybe that's just me. Still …

However, today I got 12 pages of the grown-up full-length done. That was fine – took longer than I thought but that's all good. Words take as long as they take. I GET THAT!

But somehow it's 5.00 in the afternoon and not much else has been achieved. I've done a couple of submissions, I read a play, I went and did a couple of errands. Watch my day breathing its phlegmy breaths as it goes sailing out to sea.

Maybe I need a time management course. Maybe I need to read more self-help books. Maybe I need to stop, you know, flaffing about.

Left the building

Also, in late breaking news, there is no football god. I repeat, there is no football god. Pack away your shrines, blow out the incense candles, remove the word deity from the dictionary. My poor doggies – even if your coach wasn't, I was damn proud of you all.

Watch out

Also managed to do a read-through of Good World last night and realised it's nowhere near as bad as I thought. In fact it's pretty good. Made a couple of corrections and now it's done, done, done. So this morning it's typing up the rewrites and send, send, send. Time the world had this play … don't you think?

Rock on dogs

Day Five – my where did this week go? But while still hacking up phlegm on a regular basis, have managed to make quite the fist of the day. 14 pages on the children's play and 12 pages of notes and writing on a new ten minute play on nanotechnology. And it's only 3 o'clock. Rocking? You betcha. Even managed to write a whole dance sequence for the children's play. Not only that, but it was a pretty damn poignant dance scene. Full of subtext and physical meaning … well, believe that and you'd believe most things.

While writing my hand off, I have also managed to duck down to the shops and by supplies for the football tonight. I don't know if there is a football god, but if there is, please, please, please … show Geelong what being too cocky can do to your finals campaign. In any case, go Doggies!

Prayer

Day three was a bit of a wipeout even though I got some research done and read a play. That's about all that happened. Have been struck down with yet another bout of flu which makes me the sickest person on the planet. What is with me getting the flu so much?

Anyway, still feeling like crap today but managed to drag myself out of my sick bed and write 11 pages on the new grown-up full-length. Which I should be dancing on the ceiling about but I fear that would just make me throw up. Oh, she's just so charming isn't she?

I've taken myself back to bed and will read some more plays and make some notes on stuff. And hopefully type up the rewrites on Good World – WHICH STILL HASN'T BEEN DONE! Slack doesn't even come close.

Please, wellness Gods, shine your magnificent light down on me.

Science Girl

Taking a break from the two plays this morning – because two days on the one thing is just so hard – god help me if I ever ant to write a novel. A couple of years? On the same thing? Go get fucked.

However, while it may look like I'm slacking off, I am actually doing some research on nanotechnology … as you do. At the moment it is incredibly confusing and yet I'm getting some ideas for a play … which is actually the whole point.

I'm also downloading a lot of plays for those young people which I'm telling myself I'm going to read.

Day Two

What was lacking in motivation (and trust me motivation had left the building some time during the night) was made up for in sheer tenacity. 11 pages on each of the plays later and some quality reading time and I'm feeling pretty good about myself. I've even gone and bought the papers today to do a little writing exercise I came across a while ago. It involves finding little paragraph stories (you know the ones that wrap a whole story in a paragraph) and turning it into a play. As I remember the writing exercise, you only have 15 minutes to outline the whole play. I thought it would be a good exercise for me as I tend to take forever to do anything when it comes to writing. I'll have a go and report back.

David Foster Wallace

Managed to eke out another twelve pages on the new full-length for the grown-up types. Yes, am sitting here thinking I am the hero of my own writing room. Wiped me out so much had to take a nap. Feel refreshed and brilliant now, as only someone who has written 24 pages in one day can. The day hit a crashing halt though just a few moments ago with the news that David Foster Wallace took his own life on Friday. This is devastating news and while I don't know any of the details, I think every writer on the planet today is thankful for what he left behind, are also very, very sad about what we will never have.

And we’re off

Day One has got off to a flying start. Woke up with quite the spring in my step even though it's miserably cold, wet and windy. But I didn't have to go and stand in the cold, wet and wind and wait for a crowded train. Yeah for me. Boo hoo to all those people that did. Kiss my ass suckers.

Made coffee, rugged up and went and sat at my desk. Pulled out notebook and found where I had left off with my children's play. Started writing. Things were tough going for the first few pages even though it all came back to me quite quickly. Oh yes, this character has this going on. That character wants that. Still, it's been about six weeks since I last did anything to it. I thought if I get 10 handwritten pages out, it's all slaps on the back and high-fives all round. Two and a half hours later, 12 pages done and dusted. I so totally rock I'm finding it hard to stop making out with myself.

Now, it's out to get some supplies and do something I really should have done on Friday and then it's back to get started on the other full-length.

What’s next?

So along with everything else that has been neglected in the past 6 weeks while I dealt with cash job from hell, it's time to sprinkle some love and attention on my poor, neglected blog. I'm going to try something new in the next few weeks on this blog. From tomorrow morning I'm going to be trying to see just how much writing one slightly flu-ridden girl can achieve . We're talking quantity over quality here although a little quality won't be kicked out of bed for farting … if you get my drift. I have so many first drafts that need to be written in order to be able to submit for cool stuff that I would like to be a part of.

The plan is to get up each morning and just write. Write and write and write … you can see that I've thought this through to the last detail.

The two big priorities are a full length adult called Habits of the Love-Struck and a full-length children's play entitled … well, as I said, all the details have been nailed into place and nothing could possibly go wrong. I also have a couple of short plays I want to get done. I also have a lot of rewrites to get done. The well-organised plan is to do all the fresh writing in the morning hours, take a bath, do some reading and then spend the afternoons on rewrites. I mean, seriously, what could possibly go wrong?

I am going to try and blog about the experience. No, scrap that. I am going to blog about the experience. What's the point in having a blog if you can't whinge about perfect plans going down the toilet?

Realism

However, and should mention this, the highlight of the week was seeing a stage reading of Paul Galloway's play Realism at the Arts Centre last week. Charming, hilarious, terrifying and most impressive, BIG. After struggling with a big play for the last couple of years, I have the most amount of sympathy for writers that take on large plays. 8 characters each who had their story to tell and did so quite convincingly. It's all set in The Great Terror and a small Russian theatre trying to put on a play to celebrate Stalin's 60^th birthday. Cue the laughs. Bold, brilliant, messy and full of smashing ideas. Well done Paul.

Where the hell never ends

Blah. Another week goes by. This cash job is killing me. Sucking me dry. All I want to do at the end of the day is find my piece of couch and the bottom of a bottle of wine. Oh, the pain. Oh, the torture. Only one more week to go.

Didn't get anywhere near through my to do list last weekend. But did manage to get all the presents to the people they needed to go to and … well, that's about all. It seemed more impressive when I was doing it.

But another weekend approaches and it's almost a quarter through. Done nothing so far but I feel there is momentum still left in this old horse.

I want to get Good World done and dusted. Rewritten and then out into the world. I have too many unfinished things. I also have to get an application done for the play in November. And submissions. Time to get things out there.