New Timer

Sketch a day - Day 229/365

Today is and was deadline day.

And not just a deadline but a rehearsal draft deadline day.

And of course the play will change and have tweaks in rehearsals. Of course it will. Loads of things will happen between now and when you come and see it, that will mean it will be different (Because, after all of this damn work, you are coming to see it right? Come on dear hearts. Surely you are).

Deborah will start finding new meaning and languages that weave through and into the text. The actors will bring their meaning and illumination to lines that will make me go - oh my god, that's what that line meant all along - It's equal measure madenning and amazing that I know this will happen. It has happened at least once in everything I have ever written to be performed. And it is a humbling and important reminder that plays are not fucking literature.They are alive. And the literature bit I bring is just a part of the whole.

But that all said. This is the moment the shape of the play takes a profound lurch from the place of liminality into the place of becoming a thing. Becoming a thrumming, defined moment, that can be seen and heard and breathed within at the same time as being imagined into. Every dimension of life exists inside a moment of theatre. It is why it is so addictive and beautiful and utterly terrifying to write for and make.

I am very tired. And there are parts of the play that are so tender and hopeful and exposing. Writing makes me want to vomit sometimes. But,despite all of that, it is here. It is here and there is no rest now until that first performance in the Beacon in September.

It made me smile, that the new timer I ordered (it's a special visual kind that is meant to be awesome for ADHD brains) came today, 1 hour and 15 minutes after I sent my draft in.

Never mind, it will be there for the next time I need to get some words over the line.

Other than to say - Free Palestine - that's all I’ve got. Good evening. 🇵🇸💔🔥