Today I fell out of love with my project, my play. The play I have been working on for coming up to a year and a half. To be honest, we haven’t been getting along for a while now. Me and my play. It’s been harder and harder to sit down and write. I’m consumed by ideas and brainstorms and charts, but I can’t seem to convert any of them to text, to dialogue, onto paper to form a coherent, fun play.
I completed a first draft of the play – a now very different play – just after New Year. It’s a draft I had been working towards throughout 2022 to help develop my writing practice. I finished it and sent it to my mentor. I hated it. It wasn’t the play I wanted to write. It wasn’t what I thought it would be. It wasn’t a play I even wanted to watch. I was embarrassed by what I had produced.
Some of those who read it said it was like reading a diary entry, the word melancholy was thrown around. This was not what I wanted for my play. This was not a show I wanted to perform. I wanted something funny. Catchy. That people would relate to. Let’s face it, I wanted Fleabag. How had I gotten it so wrong?
My mentor said it wasn’t as bad as I was making out. That it was a first draft, we hadn’t even finished the process yet. Did I want to give it a chance, push on through and complete the process? I thought about it. My gut said no. So, I said no. I wanted to go back to the drawing board, revisit the outline and think of a better storyline. I stuck that draft in a draw and never wanted to see it again.
I went back to the drawing board. I still wanted to write around the themes of the play, these were still shouting out to me but clearly the form or style or story of the first draft wasn’t working. What was it about this theme that I wanted to say? I couldn’t figure out the right question that my play was seeking to answer. The right way to phrase and frame the theme. What is the quest my character is going on?
Other writers were asking me what’s my unique take on the subject. And I all could think was, I have nothing new to say, it’s all been said! So, if that’s the case why am I bothering to write this play. Is it therapy? Is it self-indulgent art?
I know the underlying subject – it’s a coming-of-age story. A girl stepping into her power, taking control (or letting go) of her future. I want it to be an empowering story, a good night out, but, honestly, I can see how some people might think it’s bleak, ‘cos life can be a bit bleak, can’t it?! So, I know what the story is really about, but what’s the hook? The plot, the fun bit that gets people to buy the tickets and makes them want to come to the show?
I feel like this is the bit that people usually know first, and that I’m doing it all backwards. My story isn’t working, I can’t put my finger on why and I’m going round in circles with it. I’m consumed by spider diagrams and bits of paper flying around capturing fleeting ideas before they disappear. I’ve spent hours – days – thinking about the play. In my flat, in coffee shops, in rehearsal studios. But I can’t seem to commit anything to paper. I’ve done writing course after writing course, but nothing works in terms of helping you actually sit down and write. And now I’m at the point where I’m thinking, am I even a writer? Am I cut out for this? Why can’t I write ANYTHING. I sit for hours staring at blank pieces of paper and willing the words to come. Knowing the overarching gist of the story but not the details of each scene to be able to write them. Maybe I’m not creative. Maybe I don’t have the imagination for this…
About a week ago, I opened my drawer and reread that first discarded draft. Praise be for time apart! It’s like I was reading someone else’s work and not my own. And it wasn’t as bad as I remembered. The story weirdly worked – it still wasn’t the story I wanted to tell, but it worked as a story, the structure was there, and the writing was okay. Dare I say good, even, in parts. The play was by no means finished or good enough to share or perform, but it had potential. And it gave me confidence. I can write. Just apparently not the play I want to write. And I’m stuck at this crossroads of how can I harness the thoughts, feelings, emotions and ideas I have around this theme, into the fun, entertaining and empowering play I want it to be.
What’s stopping me from doing this and how can I overcome that block? The frustration. The pent-up tension. The pressure I feel on my shoulders when I even think about writing. Whatever the answer is to this, I believe is also the answer to why I’m currently falling out of love with the project. And I so, so want to be in love again.