The printed draft

There's nothing quite as exciting as printing the first "presentable" draft of a new project. I did this in the morning and tomorrow, I hope, I can begin the real joy of the writing process, which is rewriting, taking my time with it and playing out all the roles in my head, a private premier production to polish. Really looking forward to it. This the first stage play I've written in over a decade, it seems to me. There are some stories, some treatments of them, that must be theatrical, and this is one of them. This material, cast as it is, would never work as a film (it would as a filmed play, however) and would lose much as a novel. I'll never actually see this play, of course, but I'm experienced enough to do a pretty damn good "visual" production in my head. I think I'll enjoy it. It's not for most folks, admittedly, but I think I can make it what I want it to be. It's in the tradition of O'Neill's JOURNEY, Pinter's BETRAYAL, Albee's VIRGINIA WOOLF ... one of those complex, ugly relationship stories. I don't want to be around when anyone who knows the source material, the "inspiration" (this is not autobiography but more like a jazz riff on it), sees it. I don't want to talk about it with anyone who recognizes the source material. I want it to stand on its own merits, or not, as if the author were anonymous -- which, dead, is pretty damn close to what I'll be.