Talking about not having much to write---here's a deluge. I now have to write five articles, each with its own dealine, and all of them before I leave town in the middle of next week. It's fun to read when you're asked to write. And vice-versa.
To sit down and get down to some really serious work is beyond me at the moment. When I have the articles in front of me (several Word windows tucked accusingly on the bottom of the screen), I feel like closing all of them and working on a new play or on one of my three novels in progress. Or the book I have to write (the publisher tucked accusingly on the bottom of my consciousness). Somehow, like before, they will write themselves and things will be resolved before the next deluge.
Those photographs. It's strange, these are among the only pictures I have of my plays. The earlier two plays have no reminders except in my mind.