One way to get past a slump like last weekend’s is simply to go submit some poems somewhere. I’ve done that, and we’ll see.

Another way is to start writing something new, as Mary suggested. Good idea, Mary. I still have the conclusion of the second novel to write, and then I’ll have four Nassau Mysteries complete, three of them ready for redrafting.

Another one is to get a couple of compliments. Now, normally I’m a little wary of compliments, especially when they’re given to my face (online it’s a little different, because in my experience online communication has an odd tendency to exaggerate the impolite, while — in my country especially — face to face communication tends towards the hypocritical). But here’s the thing. Last week my play opened. We’ve had poor houses, and I’m worried about money — the theatre where it’s being put on charges exorbitant rent. But we’re getting damn good critical reviews. People have also said nice things to me, and while I salt that liberally when it happens right after the show, when people come up to me two or three days later and tell me nice things, I tend to trust them a little more. Especially when it’s the right nice thing — like “I haven’t been able to get the play out of my head since I saw it”. That’s what I’m aiming for. I don’t want people to like the thing. I want them to be haunted by it.

And finally, the other thing is to see a profit from one’s writing. The profit I’m seeing is tiny — enough to buy lunch, maybe — but the script of the play’s been on sale at the performances, and I’ve finally done more than break even. Absurd that it makes me smile and lifts the blues, but there it is.


Now let me go work on the Bridport entry. Nothing ventured, as they say.



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