i was working with ken on some rewrites at the workspace in chelsea tonight and he starts improvising around this one idea, just verbalizing intent and ideas and bits of things that we'd been discussing about entitlement and white people. i don't know why but something took off in me, running. hard and fast. i almost literally exploded in another direction. i stood there in the middle of the rehearsal space scribbling, while he went off. i couldn't write fast enough. it was astonishing, how effortless all of it was, how the words swung out of the pit of me, how what ken said had me bouncing in a thousand different directions, all of it oozing out of the tip of my pen.
it was almost as though i were in some sort of trance. not thinking, not feeling. instinctively shifting something inside me again and again and letting more and more out.
there was a time when i couldn't remember when i had moments like those as a playwright. now they're coming hard and fast, all the time. for this, i am truly grateful.
now back to my rewrites.