Blank pages

6:27 a.m. Sunday morning.

For the first time in my life, I didn’t need to skip the first page of my notebook before beginning to write. Usually, I feel intense pressure – self-imposed, of course – to write perfection as soon as the new notebook is opened. The blank page before me becons the perfect expression, the well-worded sentence, the cleverest wordplay. Years ago, I decided that the best way for me to avoid writer’s block in front of the first page of a notebook (especially given that I’m the only one who reads its content) was simply to skip it and move on to the next. This way, if ever I do fall upon the perfect sentence, I have a choice spot for it.

But this morning, awakened with a smile at 5:15 a.m., I got up to write about the character I played  in my dream. I filled many pages of my notebook until I had none left. I had to choose a new notebook, which I opened to the first page to continue writing, without hesitation.


My Procrasti-Nation

My living room has been my procrasti-Nation for the past few weekends. Despite promising myself I would have my new play Seven Dragon Happy-Go-Lucky Golden Garden House of Foo(d) updated by mid-February (oops) early March (nope) end of March (fingers crossed), I’ve been easily distracted by the usual: watching my son play choo-choo with his Thomas the trains (yes, there are more than one), watching sci-fi TV shows with my husband, and washing and folding the laundry.

There is no ‘logical’ reason for my postponing work on this play. My mentor is (was) expecting it, I know what I have to update and, most weekends, I have time to devote to the project (as this article proves with its existence). So why no work? Am I paralyzed with the fear of the final product, dreading letting my play fend for itself in the world? I can’t imagine that to be so; I’ve worked on Seven Dragon longer than I’ve had my son. With my mentor’s help, I will seek a theatre company to workshop and produce it. I’ve long dreamt of seeing it play out on stage.

But that can’t happen until it’s ready. And it won’t be ready until I modify a scene and adjust the ending. So. Off I go, then. When I come back from the gym.