Writing is often lonely. You spend time alone, quite literally, sitting at your desk... but you're also spending time alone in your head, wrestling with words and sentences and phrases and structure and what-not. Sometimes I think it's why I became a playwright -- so I'd have lots of different voices in my head to spend time with.
Every now and then, however, you meet someone with a powerful mind that's kindred to your own, and that mind somehow finds its way into yours while you're writing, and there's a kind of quiet conversation that goes on. You feel buoyed and supported. And that's what I'm feeling this morning as I wrestle with the latest scene of my current play. And I am so grateful for her presence in my mind.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment