Superstitious

I was going to post a monologue (it came to me in a blur last night) from the new play I'm working on, but I realize I'm a little superstitious about the whole process. I look at playwriting as a "spooky" enterprise. I accumulate facts, incidents, ideas and lines, (I have about 30 pages of notes so far, jotting down things that intrigue me, some of the same things that surface in this blog), then somehow I "discover," a voice, or a series of voices that kind of "take over." I start making connections, trusting that if I can make the leap from one thing to another, others will be able to do the same. It's a way of "fooling" myself into creating something new, it helps keep things fresh, I make little "discoveries" along the way. I realize it's really a little game I've learned to play, I sort of know the outline of the rules, but what actually comes out, and when it comes, is all basically unknown. It's not something I can force, or will, if I'm trying too hard, it doesn't quite jell. It's not about "effort," it's more about "inspiration," but the key is to sit down at the keyboard, without any preconceptions, and tap into the flow. What's weird is I've had a number of "false starts," (who knows, this could be another one) but last night, one of my original conceptions came back to life. I realize, I do know what I want to write about, but I've been hesitant to fully commit myself. This "voice" just came pouring out, I realized it is demanding to be heard! OK, so my job is to not get in the way, to open myself, to be the vehicle, and let it come down.