I’m going out to dinner tonight with a poet. Fabulous. But he’s a very difficult sort of man; the evening will start with a beach walk with his two dogs and my two dogs and only then become comfortable and civilised as we find a pub or restaurant or fish’nchip shop. I’ve just emailed him in dismay ‘It’s raining’, hoping that he would reply ‘OK, we’ll forgo the walk and go straight to the pub’ but no…. his reply is simply ‘Put a Mac on.’
You would think that a poet would be a tiny bit fey and foppish, but it turns out he’s one of the robust, muscular no-nonsense poets. Just my luck. And apparently he likes to dine with a very, very grumpy dramatist.
I’m on page 25 of my comedy script. Has it made me laugh yet? I think there was a wan smile at about page 12. Laughs are not in it. But I think I know what’s wrong – I know where it’s going. That’s never a good thing in comedy. So, I’m going to forget the storyline and just see where the characters take me. One is quite promising, a bit of a bad-lad, ex-cop, in his 60’s, never reads but is an affable sort of cove, a bit dense but then, he was a copper for 30 years (memory from South Africa ‘Why do so many policemen have Alsatian dogs?’ Answer; ‘Two heads are better than one’.) and I think he may turn out to be funny. The real problem is the woman – she’s D.U.L.L.
None of my women friends are dull so why has this happened? Why can’t she be as naughty as Jane, as fiercely focussed and slightly rebellious as Lisa, as crazily delightful as Em or as eruptive as Beth, as Famous Fivish as Anne or as Eyore-like as Helen? And yes, there is such a word as ‘eruptive’. Shut up. Truth is, sorry girls out there, us women tend to behave rather better than the men do. That’s why I like the company of so many men. For my 6 women friends there are 8, 9, 10 (and counting) men. Some of ’em dead (including my husband) but their memory lingers on and makes me smile. Which is more than this script does.
I’m due to deliver the damn thing tomorrow, so here’s the plan: dog walk, dinner, come home, drink a bit too much wine (not very too much) and then attack the script with gusto. Fix it. Yesssss.
Watch this space.
Oh dear, it’s 5.20 am. I didn’t write last night, and I’ve woken early full of bubbling joy and prayer, but no writing. I sense that today is not going to be a writing day. Today is about God and about prayer and about the amazing bewilderment that I know Him. I mean, ME! Me, knowing God.
That’s just plain old weird and wonderful.
I was taken to task by a dear friend who slipped off my list of women friends. She’s the Oompa Loompa who helps to make up the naughty corner in church. So, 9 women friends. And counting. Maybe I have as many women pals as men pals after all. Or nearly. Almost…. once again, watch this space.