I went to the post office yesterday and gave them $17.50 of my hard earned money to mail my inquiries, bio, cover letters, 10-page samples, synopses, complete scripts, and resumes to 12 theater companies in NYC.

Now what?

Today, well, I did go to yoga for the first time since I was pregnant with my daughter over two years ago. But now? I’m sitting on the couch, having just eaten Ramen, potato chips, and prunes, and now I’m finishing it off with some chocolate I got in my Christmas stocking, and watching “Nine Months” with the oh-so-lovely Hugh Grant and my un-favorite, Julianne Moore. Whatever, she’s fine. She’s just too… red all over.

So now what do I do? I’ve submitted my play to all the places I know to send it to, and my screenplay is, well, still waiting until I get a better idea of where to send it. A writer writes, right? So I should write. I write plays because I love it. I write screenplays because they make money (and I enjoy it for the most part.) Is it time to start a new script? Oh, the dauntingness of it.

And yes, “dauntingness” is a word. It’s right after “daringlyest” in the dictionary.

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