and it rained the whole night long

It is in the wee hours of the morning, long before the sun rises to startle the new day with warmth. My bed is empty, the overhead lights are on, and I am frustrated by the intellectual and literal nausea I am feeling. Tired of the same dreams night after night, and the same restlessness when I look at my unfinished work…knowing there is something I cannot control that is literally sucking the life from my creative flow…

Within life, we transition from event to event, from one season to another, but it is when the transition does not make sense or is not complete that we cannot seem to make a written transition work…and ’tis true for me now. The sun may come up, the skies may turn that pastoral-pastel blue…but for me, I am stuck in a Pastornak poem where it is raining…and it rained the whole night long...everywhere it rained…like the snow that fell from world’s end to world’s end in “Winter Night.” And, yes, the candle still burns on the table…

It will take another to stop the rain from falling. Or, maybe even a word or phrase. In this gray night, with no moon and no stars, time does not speed onward, it creeps, crawls…softly forward. And I wait for another…who has not arrived.

Reflecting on Floyd Collins

“Floyd Collins,” an off-broadway play that debuted in 1996, is one of the most intricate performances imaginable. It is a choreographer’s nightmare combined with an awkward musical score…a challenge for any actor. Still, tonight’s performance at the state theater proved memorable, particularly for some superb acting and singing from young Katy Nichols, a theatre graduate from Bethel College in Indiana, and Bob Bonhage, an actor originally from the Philadelphia area. While I expect good performances from seasoned actors- which I saw- it is particularly satisfying to see younger actors perform at a higher level…

It is when I see such performances, in spite of the shortcomings (or poor writing) of the playwright, that I am reminded of my duty to create a play that instigates a vivacious performance with ease, with a flow. Writing a play may be quite different than writing a book, but without flow, both never reach the level of communication and effect that their author intended. And that, dear ones, is why I was revising today, to return to the flow, to recapture what my imagination created months ago.

And so I reflect, and review, and return, as always. It makes me a better writer, and better person. For every time I revise, I am reminded that writing reflects life, and the need to reflect and revise every day. If we are not growing, if we are not becoming better people, then we have not learned how to revise, nor have we understood the truth of the essence of creative communication. We become as awkward as a poorly constructed play, with movement that causes us to be confused or misunderstood.

I admit that being an author and playwright helps me to be more aware of who I am and where I am going. While there is a price to pay for every dedicated professional writer, at least the revising process keeps me in line…unlike a young celebrated misadventurer who died deep in a Kentucky cave…

The Saturday Blues

Got my fingers on the keyboard

Just where they oughtta be- yeah yeah

Got my fingers on the keyboard

Just where they oughtta be- yeah yeah

Well when I got my fingers on the keyboard

Baby, that’s all I’m gonna see…

Maybe, just maybe, I should go outside. The sun came out and our “imminent thunderstorm” disappeared from the sky and every doppler radar out there. Now it is too late to  go have some fun in the sun…because I didn’t finish the next scene of my play. Since there is no one here to encourage me- I guess I’ll just go eat chocolate. Yeah, that should solve everything.

Reece’s cups, here I come….

Writer’s Block sucks. Big time.