Today it began.
Dec 16, 2013.
We entered through the Factory Theatre construction site, passing the workers working furiously against the cold. The cold must have followed us in because as we sat in the Factory greenroom we learned quickly what it means to be professional writers.
We channel the great writers ... Dickens... Dostoyevsky... Darwin... Dumas... Atwood... sitting over a candle with our tea and scarves contemplating the plight of being employed artists (ok there was no candle) and think that perhaps it would be better to just throw in the quill and get a 9-5 in a warm spacious office. We blow a fuse. It has nothing to do with the fact that we have five space heaters going at once. "This will help!", exclaims Morro as she pulls out a container of Friendship Cake which she baked just for this momentus occasion. Jasp begins filing through the application forms that she got when we applied for jobs at the Eaton Centre. "This is so hard, there are a lot of questions and empty boxes waiting my perfect response. The response that will get me hired". Morro is hard at work with a marker up her nose.
Don't boil the kettle and run the space heater at the same time - we blow another fuse. There is a sign saying just that but we didn't read it until after we blew the fuse... again. "What if you can't read at all? How are you going to know not to do that", says Morro.
There are super serious auditions happening in the next room - Oh yeah we are here to work. Must write brilliance. We go exploring for inspiration. We get to go through all the doors that say "No Admittance" and "Do Not Enter" so its pretty exciting as there are a lot of dark and mysterious back hallways, Although they always end up leading back to the same place. The greenroom... where me must write.
Dec 16, 2013.
We entered through the Factory Theatre construction site, passing the workers working furiously against the cold. The cold must have followed us in because as we sat in the Factory greenroom we learned quickly what it means to be professional writers.
We channel the great writers ... Dickens... Dostoyevsky... Darwin... Dumas... Atwood... sitting over a candle with our tea and scarves contemplating the plight of being employed artists (ok there was no candle) and think that perhaps it would be better to just throw in the quill and get a 9-5 in a warm spacious office. We blow a fuse. It has nothing to do with the fact that we have five space heaters going at once. "This will help!", exclaims Morro as she pulls out a container of Friendship Cake which she baked just for this momentus occasion. Jasp begins filing through the application forms that she got when we applied for jobs at the Eaton Centre. "This is so hard, there are a lot of questions and empty boxes waiting my perfect response. The response that will get me hired". Morro is hard at work with a marker up her nose.
Don't boil the kettle and run the space heater at the same time - we blow another fuse. There is a sign saying just that but we didn't read it until after we blew the fuse... again. "What if you can't read at all? How are you going to know not to do that", says Morro.
There are super serious auditions happening in the next room - Oh yeah we are here to work. Must write brilliance. We go exploring for inspiration. We get to go through all the doors that say "No Admittance" and "Do Not Enter" so its pretty exciting as there are a lot of dark and mysterious back hallways, Although they always end up leading back to the same place. The greenroom... where me must write.
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