After tomorrow I will retire my first play from intensive submission. I might continue to send it out to niche contests, but it will essentially be off the monthly mailing rotation. It's a bit hard to believe a whole year has passed. That play netted a staged reading, finalist honors from a small contest and a number of full-script requests. It's still out there working for me, but I've done about all I can do to let the theater world know it exists. I've sent it to more than 160 theaters and contests. I suppose that sounds like I want some kind of medal. I'd at least take a discount from the USPS.
I'm now hammering out another synopsis -- an unpleasant undertaking, as some of you may know. I have high hopes for the new play, as well as the old one. But in life it seems things don't go as neatly or as in order as you'd like them to. However, I do feel one of these suckers (written or yet-to-be-written) is going to hit at some point in the near future, and I suppose that's all that matters -- at least in terms of contact with the outside world. Inside, I will continue writing, and as time goes on, I'll continue to enjoy that experience a tiny bit more than before -- and care a tiny bit less about what others think. I suppose that's the key to being a happy creative writer. It will never be total, but it can be a majority.