Not so long ago I could sit at the computer until three in the morning, writing and writing and writing. Now it's 10:40 and I feel too tired to get out a single valuable idea. I have a ten-minute play due tomorrow; ok, that's alright, it's not the greatest thing yet but it's good enough to hand in. I also have a detailed outline of a one-act due, and I haven't a clue what I'm doing. I've been realizing all throughout this semester that my ideas are horribly handicapped with holes. I come up with a great line, or a character, or a place, and I can't seem to develop anything in conjuction with these single brain storms. Not storms--bolts of lightning, really, and no rain to give it any sense. Just crash, there we go! And....nothing. How the hell did I ever write Thread? Granted, that could have been better, but for what it was, it was pretty damned good. I mean, really, I was clueless at the time. Maybe I know too much now. Maybe I'm trying too hard to hit all four corners of the box; plot, characters, purpose, audience. I don't know. Maybe I'm just too stressed. Or maybe I really am just that out of practice. I'm too rusty, too dried up, and now everyone is too demanding. Maybe taking all this writing was a bad idea, maybe I'm doing too much at once. In just two weeks I need to have written a short story. No biggie, I suppose, except where is the time? The time to gather thoughts, to think hard and clearly? How can I think about something like fiction writing when I've got due dates and exams and meetings? It's one of those days, you know? One of those days when you just question everything; am I in the right place, did I do the right thing, am I on the right track, is this good for me, amd I happy? I think that's really what this play I'm trying to write is all about. It's about people ending up in places they don't feel they belong in. People who just kind of "float" to a place and never questioned their direction until they'd already settled there. And even if they do question it, they feel stuck and bury themselves in routine and the processes of having an acceptable job that pays. So how do you get a turtle to come out? You light a match under his shell. Carrie