Wasn't able to do any playwriting this morning. Tomorrow I'll get up early to write.
I'm pleased as punch.
Recalled forgotten scribbled scenes from an unfinished manuscript.
I somehow retrieved from a cobwebby mind, a precious liner for my character Julian, to whom my dialogue was inspired by all the Iris Murdoch novels, I eagerly devoured at the time.
I wonder if more furious frowning wouldn't encourage other older lines to pop out.
Three characters sitting round a table with steely eyes and having the most blazing row.
Julian being very cold.
As it turns out, he was the love & Nirvanish light for a lady who married someone else. Now she looked anxious, and playacted the defacto peacemaker, ready to placate fury.
There were secrets.
The couple sat facing Julian. They weighed a couple of insurmountable issues all of which upheld the silent scene from where Julian wielded his calculated power with dexterity.
And I think I planned to kill one character. A tragedy. Yes...and I remember my colleagues at the office, being upset at that stage murder.
What then bounced in my head? No wonder, Julian was pacing up and down the room with a whiskey glass in his hand.
I don't think it was a one-act play at all that I was writing, but a full-length one.