A Writer's Notebook, Day Four-Hundred-And-Nineteen

I somehow wrote an extra poem this morning.  It was not my intent, but I looked up and realized I had four poems, not three, as I have been intending this week.  I am thinking that I will continue writing four poems in the morning.  I did not intend to progress at this point, but it has happened.  I will see, of course.  If tomorrow I don't write that extra poem, well, it is fine.  I am just thinking it happened so naturally, it is worth honoring that. But I will not worry if it was just a fluke.

Anyhow, I am also thinking about the potential for a new short play. I wrote one last year for the New Play Festival at FAU and am in the position to submit another this year, so I am beginning to think about those possibilities.  I don't know what it will be. precisely, but I am considering what is possible. I have an idea. actually, that is forming, which I think I can develop, and which may work, but I need to think it through a bit more.  Funnily, as often happens, it is expanding in my head as I think about it right now, but I need to give it a little time at the moment, so I can understand it a bit better.  I think I may try an exercise or two to flesh out some of it.  It's not yet fully formed, but is interesting and has potential, as long as I don't turn it into a sketch.  That is a definite concern with a short play, but I think I have an idea of how to make something interesting and entertaining that will resonate.  It is hard to discuss, as I don't want to reveal too much, but I think it is already beginning to take shape, potentially.

It feels as though today has been quite productive, though I did not really consider it at the time.  Things can develop in ways that are not really predictable, and often they occur in ways that are completely covert.  I am not sure when thinking about a general theme, a question really, about certain ironies in modern life, turned into a set of characters in a conflict, just as I did not notice myself continuing to write another poem this morning.  It is yet more of the proof that doing more work, at least more creative work, breeds more of it, even keeps the mind moving towards those outcomes in what others might think are idle hours.

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