This post is late.
It’s also short.
Short because this week I have:
Taught classes with my company, in school and privately.
Met with a business advisor through the Cultural Enterprise Office.
Been researching possible MA options and getting in a tiz woz because I don’t know what to do.
Squeezed a morning in at Stanza. Had breakfast with a lovely poet friend, attended an editing workshop and a wonderful visit to the Emergency poet.
Attended a Masterclass at the Rep with Graeye Theatre
Met with a lovely old pupil of mine before she goes to drama school.
Watched Blood Wedding at the Rep.
Been hammered with rejections all week long.
Tried to stop my house looking like a disaster zone (failed)
Still written my one draft a day (but not managed my edit session or to actually submit anything)
So I am late. Which is a theme at the moment. I feel late. Too late to do the things I want to do. Is this a truth? Yes and no. Some doors are closed. I am so aware of this at the moment. But there could be other doors, I hope there are other doors. I wish I could find them .