We had our second rehersal tonight for the excerpt of my pilot that's going to be read on October 11. The feeling of delight is there, but not as euphoric as last week. It's been replaced by a tinge of awe, a touch of apprehension and a huge dollop of belonging. Yes siree bob, this chick's a writer. Oh, lordy, I hope it's enough to interest the audience.

I realized sometime during the evening that the actors and director have ten pages of script. Yet, they have picked up on the nuances of the relationships between the three characters, the histories behind them and the motives that drive them. Dang. I want to jump up on a chair and claim full credit for that, since if it ain't on the page, it ain't on the stage, but on the other hand I want to sit quietly in the corner and gape in amazement. How do they do that (the actors and director, I mean)? How do they manage to see all those bits and pieces in only ten pages. What did they pick up on? Very cool, to watch this evolve from black and white to technicolor!

Also, I could get very, very hooked on writing for the stage, not just the screen. Mostly its the the thrill and magic of watching living, breathing actors put forth energy and excitement right in front of you. There's also a bit of me that likes tha part where if someone wants to change a line, the first person they look to for permission is me. Whoa. The writer means something to stage actors.

As it's way past my bedtime, and my ability to put two coherent sentences together in the same order is fast fading, I'm cutting this one short. I can only hope that for each and every script I hear read for the first time I experiece the same thrill.

Cheers!