The process of editing has begun, and with it, the killing of my children. Not my actual children, but, my words and lines that I poured my soul into creating and putting down onto the page. They're part of me, products of me, and share many aspects with me; any writer worth their salt feels the same way. And one of the hardest aspects of being a writer is killing them. Anything extraneous needs to go. As one of my esteemed professors has told me many times: "Tell the fucking story."
Now that I've gotten the pretentious writer-ly part out of the way, I've begun edits for the script in earnest, subtracting here and adding there, most notably adding a monologue for Honey. Brian and I haven't decided where it'll go, or even if it'll end up in the final version of the play, but that's the beauty of it; it's my play and I can do what I want with it. The most I've taken advantage of this boon has been in just adding puns here and there. I'm excited to see where the script ends up by the time we actually perform it. Probably a lot funnier and streamlined from where it is now. Who knows? Only time will tell.
Until next time,