Bollocks

Okay, okay. I know I said I would write something (no matter how boring) every day in February, but this is not a good day.

I was hoping (fervently) that a couple of weeks from now I’d be starting rehearsals of my new play, with me (the author) directing me as the director/author, along with the other members of a great cast. The idea was that there would be online performances sometime in April.

So much, it seems, for that idea. There are only two people who have the technical expertise to stage manage a live online One-Act Play Festival. One of them wants to be in my play (and I also very much want him to be) and the other has a work commitment that will keep her busy until the very end of April, which means the absolute earliest we could do the show would be the end of May, which conflicts with longstanding plans of the director of the other play, so probably early to mid-June. Bollocks, bollocks, bollocks, bollocks.

The last show we did was in early December. Yes, I had a little creative flurry a few weeks ago when I turned an old play into a new play, but that only took three or four days. I bloody need an outlet and I need it soon.

Gave it my best shot this morning and tried to recruit a tech savvy replacement stage manager, but he said no. He did suggest a possible alternative candidate and someone else (who knows said candidate better than I do) is going to pursue this, but I don’t think I should hold my breath.

Bollocks, bollocks, fuckety bollocking bollocks.

We’ve had other one-act plays submitted which we might, possibly, maybe could turn into another online show in June, but not if we can’t do the first one until late May at the earliest. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Deep breath. This is not the end of the world. (Even if the frustration does make me want to scream.) I’ll live. The weather will improve in March. I can start doing things in the garden. I could launch myself into spring cleaning. I could paint the bathroom. I could take up crocheting. I could spend weeks catching up on the pile of reading beside my bed. (The book pile never seems to get any smaller.) I could spend my days binge watching Schitt’s Creek. There are lots of things I could do to take my mind off not being involved in rehearsals.

Still.

FUCK!!!!!!!!