April 4th 2015
I awake each morning torn between the desire to save the world and a desire to savour the world. This makes it hard to plan my day.
– E. B.White
I awake each morning torn between the desire the finish the first draft of Frenchys and the desire to do just about anything else. The problem, the only problem I would propose, with playwrighting is that unless you have the wit and genius of Noel Coward, the gap between inspiration and gratification is very, very long indeed. Oh yes, I know the trope about “enjoying the journey” but the fact is I write imagining an audience responding – an audience that isn’t there – an audience that won’t be there for a couple of years. And so I am attracted by glittering jewels of present activity, moments that can be wrapped up in a matter of minutes or hours – a hand of bridge for example. Or erasing emails. Or a nice lunch with Stewart Arnott who kindly commented on Lysistrata. Or, a more theatrical endeavour, preparing and cooking a dinner party (Fruit stuffed Cornish Rock Hens with asparagus, fiddleheads and pureed cauliflower). I did all three of these things this week as well as recovering from Jim Warren’s birthday party, leading a workshop on faith journeys in Orillia and writing a toast for Ida Pitman (Walter Pitman’s wonderful wife) who is celebrating her ninetieth birthday today.
Oh, and dinner with my brother after watching Kingsman which seems to prove that modern pulp cinema is in a nose dive. But the result of all this “savouring”, as Mr. White says above, is that the page count on the play has not been rising nearly as fast as I would like. Not that Frenchys will save the world. It could be sub-titled “no redeeming features” except that it will be funny. In places, I suspect, screamingly funny. But I will have to wait a couple of years (or more) to find out! Sigh. It’s a first world problem. Next week will be better.
Have a happy Easter,