Today was the test I was preparing for: I met my class with whom I will be working, spending four weeks teaching - well, discussing - play development using Peter Brook’s The Empty Space (1968) as my text. My riddled, underlined, post-noted, old copy has seen me through the creation of a number of my plays. ( I find books by/for directors or by/for actors are very useful for playwrights.)
I re-read the book (lost count of how many times), and my morning swim-cum-meditation has been almost completely devoted to thinking about it, sort of constant counterpoint to everything else that I was doing.
All this and baseball, too. I’ll be glad when the World Series is over. I need the sleep.
So I have lots of thing to write about. But not tonight.