Friday, August 22, 2008

this week kicked my ass

All nighter. Another one. For reals. I rewrote the final scene of Ten Cent Night last night because its original incarnation was a clusterfuck. This is my largest cast play (7 actors, no doubling of characters) and I'm juggling a few different story lines that intersect throughout the play, but must converge in the final scene. If you don't stick it right, Olympic-style, it's just, like, points off from the German judge. The audience will kick you in the face if you screw up the ending. Endings have to be good. No pressure or anything.

At 4 a.m. last night/this morning, my apartment mouse made an appearance. I had been numbed into silent non-movement as my laptop sat on my stomach, irradiating my internal woman parts. The mouse scooted along the baseboards in my living room and I was so tired I thought I was hallucinating -- but no -- mouse. Mouse! I know you're still there, mouse. I have another mousetrap for you, mouse. FYI.

I e-mailed my rewrites at 5:09 a.m. this morning. Slept an hour. Typical. If I've had a productive night writing (it was productive) my brain continues spinning after I've submitted to the bed. Went to an 11:00 a.m. rehearsal at Chicago Dramatists, delayed slightly by a GIANT HOLE in Ashalnd Ave near Fullerton, and scene 10, completed 6 hours previous, was given preliminary blocking/rehearsal and -- you know what? -- I HAVE TO REWRITE HALF THE FUCKING REWRITE. WHAT THE FUCK. FUCK. (Wegrzyn throws chair at baseboard where she saw apartment mouse earlier in the day). I love actors, but they're so "detail oriented." They bring up "good points" like "how does my character know that information if she was never onstage to hear it." Godammit, you actors. Always making sense. Stop it. You're making my job difficult.

Common occurrence at today's rehearsal:

(director explains a certain complication in the story plotting)
Director: But that should be simple to fix.
Me: THEN YOU WRITE IT!
Director: I understand, you're tired.

I'm going to celebrate one success this week. I wrote my very first funny line about foot-blister pus. Throw confetti now.