Some theatre each day keeps the doctor away…

The Return of the Lines

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So, 34 lines on the play today.  And that will probably be all that I do until the New Year, knowing my record.  (Either that or I will do a thousand more.)

Finished reading Letter 54 in Clarissa.

Watched Happy Feet Two and found it knowing near as good as the first one.

Watched an interview with D. T. Max and (I think) Tom McCarthy – a conversation between the two, rather – in which Max was talking about young writers needing to find older writers that they like and have similar styles to them (or something along those lines) so that they get permission, as it were, to be the writers they want to be.  I thought this quite apt, though I’m not entirely sure who my writers that I’ve gotten permission from are…  The obvious choice, one would think, would be Stoppard, but I’m not convinced that he’s necessarily influenced my style (as it stands right now).  Before there was some imitation going on, but I think I’ve got that largely out of my system.  (Of course I could have a huge blind spot about this, too.)  I might say that Shakespeare gave me permission to write in blank verse, but I think that’s a bit of a weak link…  Hmm.  Stoppard, I suppose, for awakening my true literary instinct, perhaps.

I’m  bored trying to discover this aspect of myself.  I shall leave it uncovered for the moment.


Written by epistemysics

December 16, 2012 at 12:18 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

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