…when you think you’re standing on solid ground, then the rug gets pulled out from beneath you and all of a sudden you find out that you were in fact standing in mid-air over a gaping abyss that you’re now staring into, and then the badgers start shooting at you with their laser guns?

No?

Me neither.

But something funny happened to me on Wednesday that wasn’t entirely dissimilar.

I’d been pushing and pushing to get my cast of 17 maniacs aged 11-18 to some kind of presentable level to do this year’s high school play. As always in theatre, there were Grand Plans to get the costumes done by some theoretical point, source all props by another point and whatnot; as always, everything was fabulously last minute but still somehow got done. The kids came through with flying colours, did an open dress on Tuesday which went all right-ish, a matinee for the staff on Wednesday and then a show for the parents on Wednesday evening. All good, applause, bows, bright lights and whatnot; a very tired director heading home on Wednesday night after a good 13-or-so hour shift*.

I flumphed down on my train, exhausted – but still… sometimes when I have theoretical writing time but am feeling melodramatic, I mutter ‘Make it count’ to myself**.  This happened; I pulled up my trusty old battered warhorse of a laptop, thought to myself that it would have been more cool to pull up an actual war horse, turned it on and had – nothing.

My second novel was still in copy-edits.

I couldn’t get a handle on the third until I’d gotten my grubby fingers into the second for some key changes.

I’d shipped new and improved versions of all three of my screenplays and I had promised myself I would not start a new one for a little while - and I had nothing to write.

I’ll tell you how that felt: Uncomfortable. It felt really, really uncomfortable.

I ended up hunting through folders with names like old/old computer/docs/old/ideas, and found a couple of things I could be getting on with – but that feeling, though. I don’t particularly want that feeling ever again.

I reckon I may be stuck with this ‘writing’ lark.

 

* And yes, I am aware that some people regularly work 13 hour shifts. If one of them is you, dear Reader, you are a Badass. Feel free to sneer contemptuously.

** If I’m feeling silly, I add a comma.