My playwrighting needs: nine months, a crap job or several, a brother with an apartment and a TV. That's supposedly what it took for Martin McDonagh to churn out 7 rough drafts. Read more here.
Somehow I suspect there's more to it than that. He had to learn how to write first. That's apparently where the television came into play. I also suspect he didn't have two children (I have a six year old and a two year old). If he only had a two year old he'd be severely handicapped because it's very hard to be two. Very hard to be two. You can't drive for one thing. And believe me, you want to.
Mind you, I'm not saying I want to write like Martin McDonagh. I just need to get some work done or I'm going to explode. At the rate I'm going, I'll be dead before I get all the scripts in my head written, and that's not considering new ideas that spring up. Wah. So sad to have a head full of writing.
What if I could pull it off? Seven rough drafts in nine months? I have a head start. I know how to write a play. I have a process. I have the material. I'm not starting from zero.
If only the damn thesis were done.
Perversely: my ideas for new plays increase in direct proportion to my thesis deadline. Happy to report that the beast should be done in the next month and I'll be able to rip out a script. In the meantime, I'll be posting some of the source material for this new work.
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