Playwriting gets into your blood and you can't stop it. At least not until the producers or the public tell you to.

I'll have you know, the play I wrote for my Theatre Appreciation class is going to be performed at the end of the semester.

When the group decided to produce my play, I was overwhelmed with immediate terror -- not pride. I did not want the play I was so far from being proud of to be put on stage for all to laugh at. I'd dealt with some kind of stage fright in sharing my 2008 NaNovel with my friends and family, but this was different. All the other students in the group had written plays for our class, too, and some of them were even involved in the theatre department. But now, they were going to be carefully reading through every line in my script, pointing out flaws in the stage directions and holes in the almost nonexistent plot development. What in the world was I supposed to find in that process to look forward to? (Not to mention the fact that I was going to have to act!)

So, last night we met for a read-through. I'd been dreading this hour the whole day, and I told the other team members upfront that I was terrified; I was so glad our meeting place had low light, to mask my blush.

But then, we just got right down to it. The four of us who would be performing read through our lines, and we fixed the few parts that were awkward or mistyped. Our "director," the fifth member of our group (and a theatre major), gave advice to the one person who was having trouble reading the lines smoothly, and then we were finished.

I couldn't believe how natural everyone sounded -- even me! Granted, the character whose lines I ended up taking was one I had written with myself in mind. She's sharp, catty, and only dares to reveal the least bit of compassion. The others sounded really good, and finally, I felt that bit of pride I should have known all along in hearing them bringing to life the characters I'd imagined. Isn't that something?

The trouble with doing nothing is you never know when you're finished.

Here's the thing. I know I've been kinda torn for a while about participating in Script Frenzy '09 while it looms ahead, but I think I've settled on a compromise. I'm going to write another NaNovel -- 50,000 words in 30 days -- while Script Frenzy is taking over April.

I've had a certain story in mind for months now, and though it's not always at the forefront, the characters keep nagging at me to get them written down before it's too late. I can't wait for November and I need a self-proclaimed goal, so I figured I'll just stick with Script Frenzy for moral support -- because I just don't think playwriting is for me just yet (I need more practice).

On another, drastically unrelated note, I love the ease with which you can talk to some people. :D

Decision, n. Firmness of conviction.

Am I or am I not going to do ScriptFrenzy?!

The thing is, I just rewrote my ten-page play for Theatre Appreciation. I didn't feel comfortable turning in the project I'd already completed two weeks ago because I didn't think it met the requirements for the theatrical form I'd picked. So, I had to come up with a totally different scenario, which ended in a project with a forced feel, not at all natural. Oh, well. I can only hope meeting the requirements will earn points where I lose them for being sloppy.

Anyway, tonight's experience in playwriting has me thinking ScriptFrenzy is a bad idea. And yet, I can't help thinking that, if I don't participate next month, I'll be angry with myself for wasting the opportunity to try something new.

One belongs to New York instantly, one belongs to it as much in five minutes as in five years.

Here's a funny little story for you. I just got back from a two-night trip to New York City with four of my closest friends and roommates. Wednesday night, before we left, I logged on intending to blog before I went. I nice, short little update about what I was up to.

But my computer, and my school's network, had other plans. Long story short, I was promptly booted from the Internet, forced to run security updates on my machine, and reboot. But rebooting didn't work out so well, and I was forced to conclude that my poor, poor PC had died.

Luckily, it didn't. I was thoroughly convinced, however, that I'd lost everything -- including all the little writing projects I'd filed away over the past twenty months I've had this computer. I've accrued quite a lot of stories and scenarios and outlines, believe it or not, and I've now learned that I need to back those suckers up in case my hard drive decides a nice, sound crashing is in order.

Anyway. This is the blog post you should've gotten about seventy-two hours ago:

Tomorrow morning, promptly at 6 a.m., my roommates and I are packing into a two-door car and heading for New York, the city I called home all last summer. Seeing as how it's New York and it's my first roommate road trip, I'm sure I'm going to come back with plenty of writing material. I'm taking a Moleskine with me, and I won't let it out of my sight the whole time. Plus, I'll be Twittering and Posterous-(ing?) the entire experience. So I think I'll have a pretty good record when I get back. :D

So yeah. When I saw that my connection to the World Wide Web was being severed before I'd get the chance to update, I copy-and-pasted the post into a Notepad file on my desktop. I know, I'm a complete nerd. You knew that already, though, too.

And, if you're wondering, I ended up not taking my full-sized Moleskine with me. Nor did I Posterous a single moment, and my cell phone battery even decided to fail me at some points throughout the trip, preventing a thorough Tweeting of my experiences. But, I did buy a good old-fashioned photo album, and I plan to print good old-fashioned pictures off to tuck in its little slots. Yeah. If you were wondering.

Eureka: An exclamation indicating sudden discovery.

Following is the epic chronicle of how I finally gained inspiration to write my ten-page play for Theatre Appreciation.

Yesterday, I had a math exam in the afternoon that was causing a stress headache. It's math, so that's to be expected. When I got out of class, I went with Monica and Lauryn to get coffee before our next classes. I figured caffeine would either stifle or intensify my headache, and anyway, my headache cleared once my stupid math exam was over.

But it took twenty whole minutes to get my grande white chocolate mocha because the only woman behind the counter completely forgot about me while she filled a dozen more orders placed after mine. By the time I got to my American lit class, coffee in hand, my perfect front-row seat was occupied -- by none other than Creepy Carl. I ended up having to sit right behind him.

By that point, I was fuming, but at least my coffee was delicious. And while I was only paying half my attention to my professor's lecture, something in the short story we were reading magically triggered a story in my head that I just knew would be perfect for my play.

Anyway, I completely stopped listening to the lecture while I wrote down my ideas. Afterward, I ran straight up to the computer lab, typed my brainstorm in a coherent and neat outline, emailed the file to myself, and started writing my script in standard stage play format.

Just as a note: I don't thing stage playwrighting is my thing. I liked it and all, but I think I'll need more practice and fewer restrictions (like I have on my assignment) to improve.

I can't expose a human weakness on the stage unless I know it through having it myself.

I was playing games on i'minlikewithyou today with Monica and I thought, Hey, I should write my play about people spending too much of their lives on the Internet. And now I'm blogging about it. Awesome.

Even those who fall short of the word goal will be applauded for making a heroic attempt.

Also, the deadline for my ten-page play assignment continues to creep closer and closer. I'm pretty sure it's due March 16th, which seems like far enough into the future except Friday is my last day of classes before such a date. I have spring break next week, when I won't be getting anything done.

I must, must, must get my act together and write most of this play before Friday. I need to change my theatrical form to something like realism, domestic drama, or play of ideas. I emailed my professor to change from tragicomedy because the ONE story I have in my mind that would work as a stage play simply couldn't be forced into a tragicomedic mold.

Help.

Oh, and NaNoWriMo's Script Frenzy '09 will be starting two weeks after my ten-page play is due, and I'd be an idiot if I didn't just use the assignment as the first 10% of the Script Frenzy goal of 100 pages. Because honestly, something like Script Frenzy is just an experiment, right? And I should take advantage of the opportunity, because there's nothing to lose.

One ought only to write when one leaves a piece of one's own flesh in the inkpot, each time one dips one's pen.

For the past couple of days, I've been getting inspiration to write from the most random sources. The 60-degree, thunderstorming weather we had on Friday became treacherous snow and freezing rain on Saturday, in turn transforming to a regular blizzard and 20-degree chill yesterday. I always get a longing for something awesome to happen during strange weather, especially thunderstorms. And the dangerous drive on Saturday night back from a leadership retreat to Bristol, VA made me irrationally excited instead of fearful for my life.

On top of the weather, everyday activities like listening to music, playing games, and Twittering the conversations I have with my friends so I can remember them for future material have made me wish I had more time to write. Even with today, a snow day, I was too busy to slow down long enough to let my mind rest in some breezy narrative. I can't wait until it's my full-time job and I don't have to let school be my first priority.