Sunday, March 25, 2018

Back to Text

I wrote to Colin, the playwright and editor who reviewed my script in June of last year. I’ve asked him to review it again.
I have two months to do any revisions before I start all over again with the Arts Club. Last time I knew what I was hoping for; Rachel, the departed dramaturge, had clear development tracks for new scripts. This time I have no idea how the new administration plans to handle new scripts but I want in no matter how they do it.
When I made the blog about my project this past week I realized I am one dress short of the baker’s dozen I want for the show. I have at least one more dress to make. I might make two. Why not? I have the world’s greatest studio in which to work.
It feels very good to be renewing my emotional commitment to The Defiant Dress. If the Arts Club picks it up for development this man’s biggest dream in life will come true. If they pass on my script, my ladies will come out some other way — perhaps in the public art gallery here.
Saturday was a lovely day but it was cooler than it’s been of late. Tony, father of my neighbour Meryl, came by for a chat then Sheba and I went for a nice long walk on another new trail. It was a nice slow day.
At Happy Hour I felt good; I had my second spa of the day during which I contemplated the last six months of work establishing my life here. In two weeks, Darrell will be getting under way on the courtyard — that’ll be the last of my renovations and the eight tons of topsoil I’ve shoveled twice (!) is enough for now. I feel officially settled-in at Pinecone Park & Spa.
April is a new beginning: The warm half of my first year begins; April 7th is my six-month mark here on Gabriola; April 9th is the second anniversary of my loss of fluency and my first month after stopping therapy at VGH. Now it’s time for this fruit to enjoy the benefits of his (and Darrell’s) labour.
Ethical sensitive me got my hammock hanging hardware in the mail. It allows me to fasten the hammock to two trees in my yard without penetrating them with a nail or screw-hook. I can’t do that to a tree.
Paula T., who’s bought a place on the island and with whom I worked decades ago, is coming over this morning to go for a good long walk with Sheba and I.  
It’s very weird reading my play again after so incredibly long away from it, but I’m absolutely loving it. The break from it has me working with a lot of enthusiasm and I am chuffed by how it’s going. I feel I’m making huge improvements in refining the text.

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