Sunday, October 02, 2011

Luckily, three of my scripts turned up from amazon on Friday. I gobbled them down by teatime on Saturday.

I think it must be wonderful to be a professional and not worry about whether or not something can be cast. Invariably, despite my best vetting and ruling out of anything with even a sporadic onstage appearance of a teenage child, I still ended up with a collection of three plays that would each present very minor casting predicaments. Or logistical / proppy predicaments.

For example, play two begins: "XX (forgot her name) is 27". I can think of no girl (that acts) that is precisely 27. Though as we're in the business of fabrication, this matters least of all.

Scene 2 and we see said girl passed out on the floor with "something" on the floor that "we" the audience cannot quite spot. This turns out to be a syringe (this, in itself, holds no fear for me now) and a pint glass of urine. (Now would this be more or less scandalous for a venue with concerns about propriety than a play about incest?)

And then icing on the cake - and this made me laugh alone in my flat like a drain for approx three minutes as dawn broke on Saturday morning - I turn the page onto the final scene and the sole man in the play - who plays 5 hugely different characters - no mean feat for anyone - has become a South African. Man alive.

Anyway, three more down. A couple of possibilities. One is a two hander. (Do I really want to do a two hander?) And I await a final volume which unfortunately is not published til the middle of October. I'm not sure this'll survive the programme print deadline which is my decision date.

Oh for decisions dictated by stationery.


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