Today has been one of those difficult creative days.  Too much outside influence has stained the page.

I've been working on putting together an event and I can't seem to pin down the venue.  I envisioned a larger space because too many of our readings happen in hot tiny spaces.  The person I contacted for a particular place just doesn't seem to be coming through with the details, the way I had hoped.  Hence, my frustration.

So I tried to channel that anger into working on my one- act play.  Usually, working out the drama on the page helps matters but I guess I'm too past my boiling point because I found myself even more frustrated. The scene is just not working.  It's so tame, so tepid.  The argument between the two characters needs to be heightened, needs to snap, crackle and pop and instead I have a slow fizzy soft drink on the page.  You would think that by feeling so emotional that it could come out in the script.  But alas, it escapes me today.  I've been working for about two and a half hours and the irritation is seeping through my skin.

Can I blame it on the weather? Planetary alignment?  No point blaming anything on the outside world when it's the interior environment that seems to be putting the breaks on.  I think it's time to gripe and complain onto my journal pages or find some fun activity because this foul mood is gumming up the works.  Argh!


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