Fitting the word to the action.
This image is of my mornings writing for my play, “The Swing Years and Beyond.”
I’ve started with one sentence - “I’m afraid to go and I’m afraid to stay.”
This strikes me as too succinct an observation from a character who isn’t even sure if she is alive or dead. ( I tend to underwrite.) I decide, one word at a time to build the sentence into something more reflective of her attempt to work out, under great emotional stress, what’s happening to her.
Here’s this mornings go:
I’m afraid to go I’m afraid to stay.
It’s obvious, I’m afraid to go but I’m afraid to stay, and my shoes are not even keeping me on the ground.
It’s obvious, I’m afraid to go but I’m afraid to stay, and my shoes, without question, are not keeping me on the ground.
It’s obvious, I’m afraid to go but I’m afraid to stay - I, not I, outer, inner. My shoes, without question, are not keeping me on the ground, something terrible has happened to my head.
It’s obvious, I’m afraid to leave but I’m afraid to stay - I, not I, Outer, Inner. My shoes, without question, are not keeping me on the ground. And something terrible has happened to my head.
It’s obvious, I’m afraid to leave but I’m afraid to stay - I, not I, Outer, Inner. My shoes, without question, are not keeping me on the ground. Something terrible has happened to my head. And where is my luggage?!
It’s obvious, I’m afraid to stay but where would I go in this state? I’m also afraid, even crestfallen that I must go - I , not I, Inner, Outer - my shoes, though covered in mud, without question, are not keeping me on the sweet and juicy ground. Something terrible has happened to my head. And where is my luggage? It's . . . if I remember correctly . . American Tourister.
Needs more work but you get the idea. I'm having a good time with it and that's an excellent sign. Thanks for reading.