Last night I drove out to Westhampton with R to finish writing the play we started eight and a half months ago. "Slackers!", you say? Well, yeah, you'd probably be right, but guess what? We finally found a weekend (erm, Sunday/Monday combination) that worked for both of us and we're here, and we're writing. We spent the entire car ride out (with the exception of the time we got lost in the Bronx and couldn't figure out how to operate the gas pump–insert generic Jersey Girl joke here) outlining the play, and guess what? We did it. Got out here around 9 and were up until 3 am writing. Damn it feels good to finally do something you've been trying to do for, umm, more than half a year.
"Why aren't you writing now?", you say? Because, fool, I missed you. Kidding, the internet sucks and we're trying to email drafts to each other, that's why. It's hard to get off track when the only noise you can hear is the gentle chirping of birds and the crash of the waves. I need to move to the beach.
So, "SEEKING–The Play" will be finished by tomorrow morning, we'll be setting up dates for a reading in the next week, and your hard earned investments (seriously, we had a fundraiser in December and all our friends donated money, therefore are investors in this production) will come to fruition.
In other news, roommate is out of town and she needs to come back. I'm sure Egypt and Turkey are exciting, but the subletter watches far too much reality tv for me to be able to handle.
Okay, there's a large cup of coffee and a document titled "FINISH THIS FUCKING PLAY" (just kidding, it's not, but it should be) on my desktop that I should start working on again.
Cheers and happy Monday!