Headlines, Breadlines, Blow My Mind*

*...and now this deadline...eviction or pay...RENT
(it is from RENT...if you didn't get that)

I decided to do some research last night on playwriting contests, grants, etc. Interestingly, Poets and Writers does not allow you to search for just playwriting contests (unless I am a complete fool and it is hiding somewhere). I found some other sites such as this one that has some information. There are quite a few contests that I would like to submit to and there are quite a few that have deadlines in the next month or so.

I had two reactions when reading these deadlines:
1. Holy crap that is soon.
2. Holy crap submitting is scary.

Let's tackle numero uno first.

Now, I know that on some level I could work on my play forever. There are tweaks here and there that I could make, would make, if I had to stare at the play for another month or two. I could give it to ten different people and have 1,000 different changes I could make if I took their advice. At some point though that becomes ridiculous. A play is meant to be heard and watched. I can read it as many times as I want (and in some ways that is helpful since people read the play when considering it for contests and such), but I won't truly have a sense of the play until I hear others say the lines, until I see others become the characters. I've been thinking of having my own reading in order to hear/see it (because I wouldn't find out from the contests whether my play has been chosen for months to come...and then I may get big fat rejections so why put all my eggs in one basket?).

So at some point, I have to say this is good for now. This is good until I see and hear it. This is good enough to throw into the pot. This means that I have to have a deadline for myself. And that deadline...is next week.

10.12.11.

You read it here first, friends.

Just writing that makes my stomach churn.

With that, I move to numero dos.

Um, submitting is scary. I've been the reader for several playwriting competitions in college and out of college. I know that I sometimes don't choose a play for what may seem like stupid reasons. I know that a play is subject to my mood, to my interests, to my taste. Of course, I try to be as open as possible, but at the end of the day writing is subjective. We may agree that Zadie Smith is a great writer, but that does not mean you have to like White Teeth. And then, of course, there are a few of you reading this probably thinking "I don't think Zadie Smith is all that good...". There are people that love Charles Dickens. I'd be happy to never have to read another Dickens' book in my life. I don't think he is that great. I respect him, but, if I became a teacher tomorrow, I would probably leave him off my syllabus ("Blasphemy!" some of you are thinking). Maybe I am mistaken. But maybe the person reading my play for the contest is mistaken too (like how I sort of put myself on the same level as Dickens and Smith? Ha. Don't worry. I am not delusional.).

But then maybe that person isn't mistaken. Maybe I am a crappy writer. Maybe my play sucks. And this is why submitting is scary because either is possible. You can be a great writer who will only be recognized after lots of hard work or, not to be pessimistic, death (gosh, how many writers and artists has that happened to?) or you can be a mediocre writer who would do better choosing another career. Scary. Or maybe you are chosen (yay!) but you are a one hit wonder. Scary.

Scary.

So I am going to fake it 'til I make it. I am going to submit and feign confidence. I am going to set a deadline and stick to it. And then I am going to turn my attention to getting the ball rolling on having a reading of my own and to another piece that sits in my head, waiting to be written. And hope that something positive comes out of something so scary.