Mar. 13th, 2012

sbearbergman: a photo of my head and shoulders, dressed in a navy suit and bright blue shirt, face turned partly away (Default)
I have So Many Things I need to work on that I'm feeling a little stuck.

• Flamingo Rampant,
• The Virginity Lost & Found (my show for Toronto Fringe),
• my reboot of Clearly Marked for high schools (edited and re-cut for content, style, and the reality of this year's gender presentation),
• book proposal for new anthology (still classified Sooper Sekrit until I sell it)
• ongoing work on new book (tentative title All Right Then, I'll Tell You Both, tentative pub date fall 2013)
• write the new stories that are busting to get written since tour (chief among them, a piece called G-d Loves Storytellers).

Plus, you know. Assorted activism & volunteer work, business-y things and booking, travel for work, parenting a toddler, being a partner, and doing something about the laundry, and then the startling discovery fresh this morning that my son appears to have sprouted up two inches overnight and now half his pants are too short. And so on, and so on, and so on.

I'm taking him to CT tomorrow to spend a couple days with my folks. In theory, I could bug out Thursday night and go someplace, or do something. I had a little fantasy about going into NYC, eating something nice, and queuing for rush tickets to Anything Goes (I feel as though I could use a little Cole Porter right about now) but it seems like more running around than I prefer, even though I know I'll be happy to have gone. And also, I should hole up and work on some of my umpteen-squillion projects.

I should go right now and collect my husband's bike. The problem being, I'd have to either ride it home (Nooooo....) or tie it into the trunk, which I feel supremely unqualified to do since that's (we think) how the brake assembly got fucked up last time.

Many things are lovely. Don't take this as complaint, please. It's just that there are so *many things* I want to work on that it feels like my focus is broken. Hrm. Is there a writerly equivalent of blinders?

Oh, well. Better busy than bored. Maybe I can make some phone calls and fold laundry at the same time to get things going a leetle faster here.

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sbearbergman: a photo of my head and shoulders, dressed in a navy suit and bright blue shirt, face turned partly away (Default)
S Bear Bergman

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