Bastille Day

The day my thesis play is due.  Also, tomorrow.

pictured: not me, but we’re making the same face.

There’s so much pressure to write this damn play it’s immobilizing.  The play that will define my education as a playwright.  The play that will showcase my talents for the school and the public.  And my mom will see it, so there can’t be too many titties.

Titty-restrictions?!  I can’t write under these conditions!

I’ve written approximately 30 pages of Attempt #3.  I started with Attempt #1, which was thrown in the trash can after a semester’s worth of work.  By the time Attempt #2 reached the hour-long mark, there was no hope for it, and into the incinerator it went.  Attempt #3 is barely a week old, but shows some promise, so long as I can keep from panicking about the fact that it’s my thesis play.

It’s like I’m in the final 3 in Top Chef and Tom Colicchio is like, “Make the best meal ever that showcases your talents or you’ll be humiliated in front of millions of people.”

sing it, sister.

So: good luck to me.  And remember – if it’s not perfect, THEY’RE ALL GONNA LAUGH AT YOU.

Back to typing!