There's nothing like it: putting in a five hour writing day on a scene you are determined to finally, finally get right. And then listening to your respected colleagues read it aloud (twice) and coming to the realization that not only haven't you made it much better, you may in fact have made it slightly worse. While the room fills with the faint, unmistakable smell of your own limitations. Nothing like it.
The rest of the afternoon was spent swearing in traffic and bursting into tears while trying to make supper. I think I might be a bit stressed.
But the nice, nice thing that happened today was going into the theatre and seeing the bridge for the first time. It's stunning, and I wish I had room to put it in my garden after.
You know, that scene is probably okay. It's just that I was trying for better than okay.
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