Could Be Worse, I S’pose

I found out on Friday that it’ll be ten weeks before I’ll be able to start gripping a pen.

Of all the facts surrounding my dislocation, this was easily the most disconcerting. I’ve attempted to scribble with the middle two fingers of my right hand, and taken stabs at it with my left. Both end up with incoherent notes. With the use of the computer means that it’s not a disaster, just that I find sometimes I need to drop away from the tech in order to get the ideas catching against each other in an interesting way. My poor notebook sits there, unused, after two days of scribbley abuse that I gave it in the first couple of weeks of injury. I’ll come back to you one day, gal, I promise.


Had a quick read through of Bump on Thursday which as always with readings, part depressing, part illuminating. I’m getting a feel for the internal conflicts of the characters but I don’t quite think I’m dramatising them in the best possible way. There is a twin theme of fallen friendship and the relationship doubts, but I have to find a way to either tie them together or raise one up to the primary slot since giving them equal dramatic weight in the time I have isn’t really working. Also, I am doing a lot of mugging for jokes that don’t have a useful dramatic purpose behind it. This is just writerly masturbation and I…er…need to knock it off. Finally, the flow of the piece is a little stop-start (but not in a good way) so will need to move shit around. I am sharpening up the hatchet, though for now I’ve stuck it in a drawer for two weeks (I actually have a drawer I stick scripts in now) so as not to be hasty.

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