Whore

I know. Enough with the shameless plugging. But in case you have something against Amazon (and really, no one is going to blame you for that) and you're an Australian, you might want to go to Fishpond and get New Light Shine there. Look at me. I'm really cheap. Thank god I'm not easy … Oh. Wait …

New Light Shine

So, you've all been waiting, patiently, somewhat silently, for New Light Shine to be published. Well, it's time to get excited because it is done and out in the world! I know. I'm jumping up and down too. Well, I would be, if I had an ankle that could jump. But I don't, and thanks for bringing up the fact that I'm a cripple on a Monday morning. Really appreciate it.

But if you're in the mood for some new writing, get your wallets out and go here or here and lay me down some cash. I'll be giving out free kisses to all that buy a copy, and you so know that I'll slip in some tongue.

Day Thirty-One

Okay. So I was going to be oh so good and blog my way through 31 plays in 31 days. But then, you know what happened? I HAD TO WRITE 31 PLAYS IN 31 DAYS! So, you know, back the fuck off. And I did. I have 31 absolutely atrociously written new plays. I couldn't be prouder of myself.

 

    

Day Two

Oh, day two was hard. Day Two was very hard because Day Two was supposed to be easy. I know that sounds like ridiculous logic but there you go. Life is nothing but moments made up of ridiculous logic. Sorry to turn the music off at the party kids, but there's nothing to look forward to. Kidding. There's plenty of things to look forward to. Like alcohol. So, yesterday I was going to write a monologue. It was going to be short, sharp and to the point. I knew what it was about, I knew enough to write it. Oh no. Oh no, no, no. This thing became like a labyrinth where every turn seemed to open six new different paths that all looked good and interesting and weird and possibly the right path and it all turned into a bit of a mindfuck. But it's done. And I realised I'm not that good at monologues. Which is horrifying and something that must be fixed. Is there a pill I can take for that?

Day One

Well, the great 31plays31days challenge has begun! And while it got off to a rocky start for your favourite fearless playwright … Fine, I'm not so fearless, but … No, I have nothing. Anyway, first play is written! It doesn't have a title and it's eight pages long and most of it was written in a notebook that I bought yesterday, because you can't write 31 plays in 31 days with the millions of notebooks that you already own. No. This requires a new notebook. There are rules, people.

So, it's a short play that has a beginning, middle and also an end and is based on a news article I read yesterday about a man that lured a woman into a car by telling her that a man was following her. And she believed him. And then he sexually assaulted her. I wanted to riff on what he must have said to get in the car, and I did, and now we have a play.

On to day two!

The brave/stupid continuum

I've come to the conclusion in the last few years that you never really know. I always thought that I would get to the point as a writer and probably more as a person where I could instinctively tell the good choices from the bad. I was wrong about that. I was so wrong about that I want someone to invent a time machine so I can go back to my 17 year old self who was trying to recover from a broken heart, broken by a terrible, terrible man and trying to tell herself that one day she will instinctively know the good from the bad and just hug her. My 17 year old self really needed a hug. In fact, I always need a hug. Hug me next time you see me. But you don't know. It's all up for grabs and it's all just a little bit of luck.

So, in an effort to just do things and see where they go, I'm doing this next month. Yes. I really am. You are all welcome to come to my house on 1 September 2012 and hug me or slap me, depending on whether it turns out to be a good choice or a bad choice. Or, you can come and join me and make some choices of your own.

Same old, same old

Oh, the slackness. Just when I think I have this blogging thing under control and I'm all in the groove and whatnot, I stop having useful things to say. Or I get so freaking busy that the thought of writing one more sentence sends me lunging for the wine bottle … Even though I talk a lot about drinking, I'm really not an alcoholic. Or I'm only partially one. Or I'm a really high-functioning one, which, by the by, I once heard Janeane Garofalo say on stage was her biggest regret. God bless Janeane Janeane Garofalo. She also instructed us all that if you find yourself as the object of an intervention, start crying and don't stop until it's over. She should really write a book. Anyway, the main reason I have been absent is due to writing a screenplay. Now, I've contemplated some stupid enterprises in my time but OH MY GOD! Writing a screenplay is really hard. Even when you are a playwright. So many scenes. So many characters. So many rules. So many story threads to try and hang yourself with. But it's done. Or a draft of it is done. So now I have to write many more drafts, write other documents to explain the document I have just written and fill out lots of forms in the hope that someone somewhere will give me some money to do some more of this. God bless this writing life.