Back to the Writing Board

The nice thing about having a play in production is that it's a good and (get this) legitimate excuse for the only thing that most writer's are even better at than writing: Procrastination.

"Hey, I would work on that script/play/novel, but I'm just swamped with my actual living and breathing play right now." And unlike any other time in your artistic life, no one (including yourself) can really argue with this, because it's for the most part true.

So you get used to not writing, because you're insulated from the guilt and the mood swings and all the other weird symptoms of writing withdrawal by a lovely-if-super-stressful cloud of production haze.

If you're particularly good at procrastination -- and most writers are, you can even make that cloud last for like a week after the play. You need to "rest." You "feel so drained." You "need a vacation to recover." You've got "end of production blues."

Well, I had a good "it's over" cry on Monday as I drove into work. Went to bed before 10pm on Tuesday and Wednesday. Met my boyfriend in Vegas for buffets, window shopping, and Broadway shows that now live in Sin City this weekend -- more on that coming later.

And now . . .

It's officially been a week.

And I'm officially out of legitimate excuses not to write.

And that depressing feeling of uselessness is beginning to edge up on me.

And I'm officially in a bad mood, which is only compounded by back-to-work blues.

So I guess I officially need to start writing again.

Luckily for me, last winter my house-sitting client and fellow blogger, Cybele May, told me about National Novel Writing Month, an annual, international effort that takes place every November, during which participants are challenged to write a novel of 50,000 words or more in 30 days.

Last winter, I promptly stole the idea in order to create the Dirty Thirty -- a similar initiative for screenplays and plays that Hei Ren Productions launched last January.

And now I plan to give back to that inspirational effort by actually penning the novel I've been threatening to write for almost two years now.

Also, I'm doing it for you, dear readers, because I knew you would miss my constant references to Grown-Ups on the Playground, as much as I would miss making them. Right? I said, right . . . ?

Anyway, I'm actually excited to get back to my novel roots. Though, the last time I finished a novel, I was an aggressively unpopular high schooler with a short natural and a love of Neil Gaiman's Sandman, vampires, and acid-wash jeans. Now I can only claim the Sandman love . . . okay, and the vampires, but please don't tell anyone that.

Today, I feel like that moment in one of those cheesy films right before the main characters decide to embark on a project that will Solve All Their Problems. But I'm a little concerned, because I suspect that writing a novel will involve more effort than a "get to work" montage set to upbeat music might lead one to believe.

Dudes, wish me luck.