The link below is to the flyer for the NHSaves event this Thursday in Jaffrey. I’m going to post more of them around today. And am left with that uncomfortable feeling that no one will show up.
It’s interesting, trying to write a play as opposed to a book of fiction or non-fiction. A steep learning curve for me. No exposition. One has to step back, leave room for the characters, the actors and director. And story, every my failing, is so key.
All my notes for Triage sit on my desk in a pile I must now make sense of. Like a pile of fallen leaves, colorful, expansive, each one to be read, and placed, replaced and maybe composted, ready for reuse on another day.
I must be patient. One step, page and scene at a time.
Here is Blanche. She needs a bath. I think she’s a Tomboy girl practicing to be a broody hen.
Of which, I will never, ever allow myself to be defeated by a broody hen again. I look at the (absolutely adorable) 4 chicks cheeping about with their mother Splotches and wonder: do we have 100% boys, girls, or a mix?
am trying not to stress about it. What will be will be and all that. But more than one rooster is hardly doable . . . though I can dream. Cross my fingers. Hope. So much need for hope these days as I look about me at the colorful leaves outside, and the ones on my desk.