The play that Ian and I are writing—have been writing, will always be writing, it seems—is nearing a stage where I actually enjoy it. I am proud of it. I spent a thrilled evening yesterday reading through, imagining it, making subtle tweaks that were all that was necessary to make it resemble the thing I think it should be. It does! It is gawd awfully long, but still really fun and engaging. Great satisfaction.
Also great is the feeling of writing it these days, knowing what is wrong, chewing on it for a while and coming up with something that feels right. And the empowerment of this feeling. I realize that not all days in hot creative pursuit will yield feelings like this, and that this heady plateau was reached only by much discouraging toil, and that getting here on this particular occasion has required spending approximately 72 of the last 96 hours writing. I don't care. I'll take it.
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