The Story of September in Five Parts -- Part I

I was invited to submit a play to a theatre festival. Doesn’t that sound like a fabulous offer? Downside, I needed to write a draft of my play in less than nine days. Doesn’t that sound doable? 

The reality of the situation is that I wrote a draft of my Black Girl Punk Rock play (I’m not ready to reveal the title yet.) in about four days. It was a hellish yet spiritual experience. I felt like I was being tested and I wanted to do everything possible to live up to the expectations ... my expectations, honestly. 

There were times when I was immersed in the story and things were moving along but I felt like the number of pages weren’t adding up. I was falling in love and hate with the characters but the number of pages were still not moving ahead. Then exhaustion arrived and my brain seemed to stop working at times, so I laid down and closed my eyes. I did not allow myself to sleep because I understood the danger I was in. A few hours of sleep would be the equivalent of my computer dying without me having a chance to save my work. I knew I couldn’t sleep despite my body, especially my back, and my brain begging for it. I pushed on writing and editing my draft until I couldn’t move anymore. I stopped. Then I called my best friend who is a fellow creative artist and I asked her to lead me to the finish line. Of course, before I crossed the finish line (hitting the submit button) I had a mini-mental breakdown that came in the form of me wailing at the top of my lungs and crying. Then I hit the submit button and declared myself a winner.