I think that's mostly because I haven't had anything to say. What little I thought was worth sharing has ended up (as I predicted) on my facebook page. Boy, managing one's online life is taking more and more time. I'm a little worried that taking care of those social obligations is making me stupid. When I can poke someone or leave a one-line comment or give them a goofy little cypber-"gift" why should I take the time or make the effort to think in longer sentences? I hope it's just an end-of-year thing that will pass once all the holiday festivity overabundance of chocolate and alcohol is done with.
I found out that I was not accepted into the prestigious writers' group I had applied to. Of course I'm disappointed but I always thought it was a long shot. I'm pretty sure my work isn't edgy enough for them. It's much better thinking that than that my work isn't good enough. I wish they had included a critique. That would have been very helpful. But my ego is not dashed to bits. I have received enough positive feedback to know that my work isn't shit. I know it could be better. It can always be better. It's all about the process, baby. So, the process goes on. I will keep flogging my little play (which happens to be SO timely and relevant it's ridiculous!) to theaters around the country. And I will keep trying to come up with a way (that is to say, money) to produce it myself. And I will keep working on my next project. And all that other stuff that we indomitable artists do in the face of insurmountable odds.
And by the way, Merry Christmas to all.
