terracinque: (bridesmaid revisited)
Saturday afternoon (February 23rd) I went to the Center for Puppetry Arts to pick up an application for this year's Xperimental Puppetry Theater, which is at the end of May. I did an XPT project in 1997 that I was really proud of, but for some reason I've never tried hard to do another one.

This year I have a really good idea, so I wanted to get the application and then knock their socks off with my proposal.

But it turns out the application deadline was: Saturday, February 23rd. Shit! The guy at the ticket office told me no one else had returned an application yet, so I'm still going to pound it out this morning and run over to the Center with it at lunchtime. They'll probably accept it, but I won't have a script ready, which diminishes my chances of being selected. Shit!

In other news, I ran twelve miles yesterday. The last mile was really hard, but I recited my mantra and got through it. And my ankle tendinitis didn't bother me at all. I now feel secure enough in my training to go ahead and register for Cincinnati's Flying Pig Marathon. That's the first weekend in May.
terracinque: (bridesmaid revisited)
It's really quite fascinating. I ate lunch less than two hours ago, really more like 90 minutes, but I just now went to pee and the strong, distinctive "asparagus pee" odor was already there. It seems incredible to me that some people can't smell it.

Okay, so now I've made a new commitment to my writing, and I'm finally going to start finishing things and achieve what it takes to be a real writer: rejection notices.

I read once that Jack London wrote one thousand words per day. He never wrote less than that, and once he'd reached his thousand, he could not be made to put one more letter on paper. That's always impressed me: a disciplined, yet healthy approach to his work.

Of course I'm no Jack London. And anyway, he was (in his later years) a full-time writer, so 1000 words is probably more than I could hold myself to.

But 500 words? That's just about right. It's not much day to day, but over a year that's like a novel and a half. Email, work-related writing and biographical updates (like this one) to this LiveJournal will not count, Saturdays and Sundays are exempt. Story writing, play writing and story-draft updates to the LiveJournal (like Friday and Monday's entries) will count.

If I miss a day (like I did Tuesday) I won't beat myself up over it or double my requirement for the next day. I'll take this one day at a time.
terracinque: (bridesmaid revisited)
How's this for a story idea: a husband and wife die together (plane crash, car crash, doesn't matter) and one goes to Heaven while the other goes to Hell.

Once a year, or century, or whatever, the saved one is allowed to visit the damned one for a conjugal visit.

Maybe they can spend their time together trying to figure out why the one went to Hell while the other didn't, although maybe that's too "No-Exit"-like.

Maybe they talk about their respective experiences in their respective afterlives.

Maybe they plot an escape? What would be the Hellish equivalent to bringing a cake with a file baked into it?

Whatever it's about, it won't be an Orpheus and Eurydice story, where the saved partner receives a favor from the King of the Damned. Any answers/escape/relief/closure we find will be within the characters themselves.

I'm open to suggestions if anyone's reading this.

July 2010

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