Excuses, Excuses.
I’m posting this both by way of apology and by way of being kinder to myself.
This past week has been the first full week of the full-time content writing job I have until the beginning of June. I’m helping craft online training scenarios for the managers of a large American business, using the principles of a popular modern business philosophy book. In other words, I’m being paid to adapt, interview, and write short plays for forty hours a week. I am being paid more per hour for this job than I have been paid for any full-time job I have ever had in my life.
This past week I’ve also been hammering out as much writing as I possibly could for the upcoming CRISIS (The Musical Game Show), the next Neo-Futurist prime-time production. I’ve been working on this show for months now, as a member of the “Think Tank” team, which develops the questions and challenges that contestants will be facing in their quest for a real cash prize every evening. I’m deeply excited about this show and the work I’ve already put into it…I think the show is fun, smart, and at times deeply edgy…all the things I love about the work the Neo-Futurists produce.
This past week I have also been coordinating and determining the viability of a handful of gigs and upcoming tours, as per my job as the Neos’ Booking Coordinator, and maintaining the Neos’ social media sites as per my other job as a Marketing Communications Writer. I’ve attended a long and occasionally contentious business meeting and I’ve assembled two film projects to represent the Neos for this Saturday’s World Theatre Day festivities. (You can catch those on the WTD Tumblelog on Saturday.)
This past week has also seen me as sick as I’ve been in about a year–what has been, knock wood, my yearly average. It’s as if my body requires me to get sick once a year just to remind me to slow down, that I’m no less mortal than anybody else, just perhaps more fortunate than some.
(And to those some: welcome to the new health care paradigm. I hope it treats you well.)
In the midst of all that, I started this week’s Fiction Friday story and it’s been completely built in my head, if not transcribed to paper with exactly the words I’d choose.
And I’m not writing it tonight.
I would. I was planning to. It’s killing me not to. But this week has been killing me enough on its own already.
Rain delay, folks. We will resume our regularly scheduled program as soon as possible. Thanks for watching.
Creative Control 