The play Death’s Door is underway. In fact, I started it two weeks ago. But it’s stalled at 17 pages and I’m struggling. But hell, I am a struggling writer. So I’m using this blog as a tool to get my juices flowing. Anyway, here’s a synopsis so you know what I’m failing to get anywhere with…
DAD is on his death bed. MAM is keeping herself occupied with an ever-increasing array of hobbies and activities. Meanwhile, the vultures are circling overhead.
Daughter JENNY and son MATTY turn up to see their dad off in style, although he doesn’t quite depart this mortal coil as quickly as everyone planned.
Production note: Throughout the play DAD should get progressively greyer. During his lengthy monologues he should be bathed in a swathe of glorious, technicolor lighting.
Today I managed three pages. Three pages of trite dialogue. Although I am rather proud of myself for turning out the following:
MAM: Quick, Jen, action stations. We need to get him to the lavvy.
DAD: Quick as you like. Quick as you like. I’m practically touching cloth.
Not that that will mean anything out of context. I’m toying with the idea of scrapping the play and turning to another idea, although that would mean scrapping a goal I set myself to get the damn thing finished within, shock horror, the next 48 hours. I’m realistic to know that’s not gonna happen anyway…